The Man You'll Marry Read Free Page B

longingly at the upper level, wondering how she could get word of her delay to Jill. Needless to say, she’d forgotten her cell—could anything else go wrong? It didn’t reassure her to notice the number of people clustered by the railing, staring down at her. Her little escapade had attracted quite a bit of attention.
    “I’ve got an appointment, as well,” the man said, looking pointedly at his watch.
    The security guard ignored their protests. He removed a small notebook from his shirt pocket and flipped it open. “Your names, please.”
    “Shelly Hansen.”
    “Mark Brady.”
    He wrote down the information and a brief account of how they happened to fall.
    “I won’t have to go to the hospital, will I?” Shelly demanded.
    “That depends,” the guard answered.
    This whole thing was ridiculous. She was perfectly fine. A little shaken, true, but uninjured. She suddenly realized that she hadn’t thanked this man—Mark, was it?
    “I’m terribly sorry about all this,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for catching me.”
    “In the future, you might be more careful.” Mark glanced at his watch a second time.
    “I will be. But if it ever happens again, might I suggest you just let me fall?” This delay was inconvenient, but that wasn’t any reason to be quick-tempered. She studied her rescuer and shook her head slightly, wondering why she’d been so impressed. He looked as if he’d stepped off Planet Nerd. Dark blue suit and tie, crisp white shirt, polished loafer-type shoes. This guy was as original as cooked oatmeal. About as personable, too.
    If she was giving him the once-over, she discovered he was eyeing her, too. Apparently he was equally unimpressed. Her sweatshirt was a fluorescent orange and her jeans as tight as a second skin. Her ankle-high boots were black, her socks the same shade of orange as the sweatshirt. Her hair cascaded about her shoulders in alayer of dark frothy curls. Mark was scowling in obvious disapproval.
    The wide glass doors at the mall entrance opened, and two paramedics hurried inside. Seconds later, when the ambulance arrived, two more medical people entered the building. Shelly was mortified that such a minor accident would result in all this scrutiny.
    The first paramedic knelt in front of her while the second concentrated on Mark. Before she completely understood what was happening, her shoe was off and the man was examining her ankle. Mark, too, was being examined, a stethoscope pressed over his heart. He didn’t seem to appreciate the procedures any more than she did.
    It wasn’t until he stood up that she realized how tall he was. Close to six-five, she guessed. A good match for her own five feet ten inches, she thought automatically.
    It hit her then. Bull’s-eye. Aunt Milly’s letter had mentioned her standing beside a tall young man. Mark Brady was tall. Very tall. Taller than just about any man she’d ever met.
    Aunt Milly’s letter had also said something about Shelly’s blue eyes. She’d ignored it at the time, but her eyes weren’t blue. They were hazel. Mark had blue eyes, though. The kind of vivid blue eyes women generally found striking…Nor could she forget her initial reaction to him. She’d been attracted. Highly attracted. It’d been a long time since a man had interested her this much. Until he stood up, anyway. When she got a good look at him, she’d known immediately that they hadnothing in common. She’d bet he didn’t own a single article of clothing that wasn’t blue, black or tan. Mark Brady was clearly a man without imagination or flair.
    On a sudden thought, she glanced worriedly at his left hand. No wedding ring. Closing her eyes, she sagged against the back of the bench and groaned.
    “Miss?” The paramedic was studying her closely.
    “Excuse me,” she said, straightening. She jerked impatiently on Mark’s suit jacket. He was involved in a conversation with the ambulance attendant who was interviewing him and