The Summer Wedding: Groom Wanted / The Man You'll Marry. Debbie Macomber
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like Hawaii, is it?” Jordan asked as he handed her a long-stemmed wineglass.
“No, but just as beautiful in its own way.”
“I’m going back to Oahu next week.”
“So soon?” Jill was envious.
“It’s another short trip. Two or three days at most.”
“Perhaps you’ll get a chance to go snorkeling again.”
Jordan shook his head. “I won’t have time for any underwater adventures this trip,” he told her.
Jill perched on the edge of the sofa, staring down at her wine. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to separate you from my time in Oahu,” she said softly. “The rest of my week seemed so … empty.”
“I know what you mean.”
Her heartbeat quickened as his gaze strayed to her mouth. He sat beside her and removed the wine goblet from her unresisting hand. Next his fingers curved around her neck, ever so lightly, brushing aside her hair. His eyes held hers as if he expected resistance. Then slowly, giving her ample opportunity to pull away if she wished, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Jill moaned in anticipation, instinctively moving closer. Common sense shouted in alarm, but she refused to listen. Just once she wanted to know what it was like to be kissed with real passion—to be cherished by a man. Just once she wanted to know what it meant to be adored. Her heart filled with delirious joy. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders as she clung to him. He kissed her again, small, nibbling kisses, as though he was afraid of frightening her with the strength of his need. But he must have sensed her receptiveness, because he deepened the kiss.
Suddenly it came to her. The same thing that had happened to Shelly was now happening to her. The phenomenon Aunt Milly had experienced sixty-five years earlier was coming to pass a third time.
The wedding dress.
Abruptly, she broke off the kiss. Panting, she sprang to her feet. Her eyes were wide and incredulous as she gazed down at a surprised Jordan.
“It’s you!” she cried. “It really is you.”
“What do you mean, it’s me?” Jordan demanded. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “What’s wrong, Jill?”
“Everything,” she cried, shaking her head.
“I hurt you?”
“No,” she whispered, “no.” She sobbed quietly as she wrung her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Why do you have to do anything?”
“Because … oh, you wouldn’t understand.” Worse, she couldn’t tell him. Every time he looked at her, she became more and more convinced that Shelly had been right. Jordan Wilcox was her future.
But she couldn’t fall in love with him, because she knew what would happen to her if she did—she’d become like her mother, lonely, bitter and unhappy. If she was going to marry, she wanted a man who was safe and sensible. A man like … Ralph. Yet the thought of spending the rest of her life with Ralph produced an even deeper sense of discontent.
“I’m not an unreasonable man,” Jordan said. Then he added, “Well, generally I’m not. If there’s a problem you can tell me.”
“It’s not supposed to be a problem. According to Shelly and her aunt Milly, it’s a blessing. I know I’m talking in riddles, but … there’s no way you’d understand!”
“Try me.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“But it has something to do with my kissing you?”
She stared at him blankly. “No. Yes.”
“You seem rather uncertain about this. Perhaps we should try it again….”
“That isn’t necessary.” But even as she spoke, Jordan was reaching for her, pulling her onto his lap. Jill willingly surrendered to his embrace, greeting his kiss with a muffled groan of welcome, a sigh of defeat. His arms held her close, and not for the first time, Jill was stunned by the effect he had on her. It left her feeling both unnerved and overwhelmed.
“Better?” he asked in a remarkably steady voice.
Unable to answer, Jill closed her eyes, then nodded. Better, yes. And worse. Every time he touched her, it confirmed what she feared most.
“I thought so.” He seemed reassured, but that did nothing to comfort Jill. For weeks she’d played a silly game of denial. They’d met, and from that moment on, nothing had been the same.
She didn’t, couldn’t, believe in the power of the wedding dress; she scoffed at the implausibility of its legend. Yet even Mr. Howard, who’d never heard of Aunt Milly or her dress, had felt compelled to explain Jordan’s past to her, had seen Jill as his future.
She’d spent only three days with Jordan, but she knew more about him than she knew about Ralph, whom she’d been dating for months. Their day on the beach and the dinner with Andrew Howard had given her insights into Jordan’s personality. Since then Jill had found it more difficult to accept what she saw on the surface—the detached, cynical male. The man who wore his I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude like an elaborate mask.
Perhaps she understood him because he was so much like her father. Adam Morrison had lived for the excitement, the risks, of the big deal. He poured his life’s blood into each business transaction because he’d never really acknowledged the importance of family, emotion, human values.
Jordan wouldn’t, either.
Dinner was a strained affair, although Jordan made several efforts to lighten the mood. As he drove her home, Jill sensed that he wanted to say something more. Whatever it was, he left unsaid.
“Have a safe trip,” she told him when he escorted her to her door. Her heart was pounding, not with excitement, but with trepidation, wondering if he planned to kiss her again.
“I’ll call you when I get back,” he told her. And that was all.
* * *
“I have a special fondness for this place,” Shelly said as she slipped into a chair opposite Jill. They were meeting for lunch at Patrick’s, a restaurant in the mall where Jill’s branch of PayRite was located. Typically, she was ten minutes late. Marriage to Mark, who was habitually prompt, hadn’t improved Shelly’s tardiness. Jill often wondered how they managed to keep their love so strong when they were so different.
Patrick’s had played a minor role in Shelly’s romance with Mark. Jill recalled the Saturday she’d met her there for lunch, and how amused she’d been at Shelly’s crazy story of receiving the infamous wedding dress.
The way Jill felt now—frantic, frightened, confused—was exactly the way Shelly had felt then.
“So tell me everything,” Shelly said breathlessly.
“Jordan stopped by. We had dinner. He left this morning on a business trip,” she explained dispassionately. “There isn’t much to tell.”
Shelly’s hand closed around her water glass, her eyes connecting with Jill’s. “Do you remember when I first met Mark?”
“I’m not likely to forget,” Jill said, smiling despite her present mood.
“Anytime you or my mother or anyone else asked me about Mark, I always said there wasn’t anything to tell. Remember?”
“Yes.” Jill thought of how Shelly’s face would become expressionless, her tone abrupt, whenever anyone mentioned Mark’s name.
“Well,