The Summer Wedding: Groom Wanted / The Man You'll Marry. Debbie Macomber

“I’m … calling to apologize.”

      “Are you sorry enough to change your mind and spend the day with me?”

      Jill hesitated. “I’ve already paid for a rental car.”

      “Great, then I won’t need to get one.”

      Jill closed her eyes. She knew what she was going to say, had known it the night before. In the same heartbeat, she realized she’d regret it later. “Yes,” she whispered. “If you still want me to join you, I’ll meet you in the lobby in half an hour.”

      “Twenty minutes.”

      She groaned. “Fine, twenty minutes, then.”

      Despite her misgivings, Jill’s spirits lifted immediately. “One day won’t hurt anything,” she said out loud. What could possibly happen in so short a time? Certainly nothing earth-shattering. Nothing of consequence.

      Who was she kidding? Not herself, Jill admitted.

      She thought she understood why moths ventured close to the fire, enticed by the light and the warmth. Against her will, Jordan was drawing her dangerously close. She knew even as she came nearer that she was going to get burned. And yet she didn’t walk away.

      He was waiting for her when she stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. He stood there grinning, his look almost boyish. This was the first time she’d seen him without a business suit. Instead, he wore white slacks and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

      “You ready?” he asked, taking her beach bag from her.

      “One question.” Her heart was pounding because she had no right to ask.

      “Sure.” His eyes held hers.

      “Your cell phone—do you have it?”

      Jordan nodded and pulled a tiny phone from his shirt pocket.

      Jill stared at it for a moment, feeling the tension work its way down her back. Jordan’s cell phone reminded her of the pager her father had always carried. Always. All family outings, which were few and far between, had been subject to outside interference. Early in life, Jill had received a clear message: business was more important to her father than she was. In fact, almost everything had seemed more significant than spending time with the people who loved him.

      Jordan must have read the look in her eyes because he said, “I’ll leave it in my room,” and then promptly strolled to the elevator. Stunned, Jill watched as he stepped inside. Bit by bit, her muscles began to relax.

      While he was gone, Jill filled out the paperwork for the rental car. She was waiting outside by the economy model when Jordan appeared. He paused, staring at it with narrowed eyes as if he wasn’t sure the car would make it to the end of the street, let alone around the island.

      “I’m on a limited budget,” Jill explained, hiding a smile. The car suited her petite frame perfectly, but for a man of Jordan’s stature it was like … like stuffing a rag doll inside a pickle jar, Jill thought, enjoying the whimsical comparison.

      “You’re positive this thing runs?” he muttered under his breath as he climbed into the driver’s seat. His long legs were cramped below the steering wheel, his head practically touching the roof.

      Jill nodded. She remembered reading that this particular model got exceptionally good gas mileage—but then it should, with an engine only a little bigger than a lawnmower’s.

      To prove her right, the car roared to life with a flick of the key.

      “Where are we going?” Jill asked once they’d merged with the flow of traffic on the busy thoroughfare by the hotel.

      “The airport.”

      “The airport?” she repeated, struggling to hide her disappointment. “I thought your flight didn’t leave until eight.”

      “Mine doesn’t, but ours takes off in half an hour.”

      “Ours?” What about the sugarcane fields and watching the workers harvest pineapple? Surely he didn’t intend for them to miss that. “Where is this plane taking us?”

      “Hawaii,” he announced casually. “The island of. Do you know how to scuba dive?”

      “No.” Her voice was oddly breathless and high-pitched. She might have spent the past twenty-odd years in Seattle—practically surrounded by water—but she wasn’t all that comfortable under it.

      “How about snorkeling?”

      “Ah …” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “There are pineapple fields on the other side of this island. I assumed you’d want to see those.”

      “Another visit, perhaps. I’d like to try my hand at marlin fishing, too, but we don’t have enough time today.”

      “Snorkeling,” Jill said as though she’d never heard the word before. “Well … it might be fun.” In her guidebook Jill remembered reading about green beaches of crushed olivine crystals and black sands of soft lava. These were sights she couldn’t expect to find anywhere else. However, she wasn’t sure she wanted to view them through a rubber mask.

      A small private plane was ready for them when they arrived at Honolulu Airport. The pilot, who apparently knew Jordan, greeted them cordially. After brief introductions and a few minutes’ chat, they were on their way.

      Another car, considerably larger than the one Jill had rented, was waiting for them on the island of Hawaii. A large, white wicker picnic basket sat in the middle of the backseat.

      “I hope you’re hungry.”

      “Not yet.”

      “You will be,” Jordan promised.

      He drove for half an hour or so, until they reached a deserted inlet with a magnificent waterfall. He parked the car, then got out and opened the trunk. Inside was everything they’d need for snorkeling in the crystal-clear aquamarine waters.

      Never having done this before, Jill was uncertain of the procedure. Jordan patiently answered her questions and waded into the water with her. He paused when they were waist-deep, gave her detailed instructions, then clasped her hand. His touch lent her confidence, and soon she was investigating an undersea world of breathtaking beauty. Swimming out of the inlet, they came upon a reef, with colorful fish slipping in and out of white coral caverns. After what seemed like only minutes, Jordan steered them back toward the inlet and shore.

      “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful,” she breathed, pushing the mask from her face.

      “I don’t think I have, either,” he agreed as they emerged from the water.

      While Jill ran a comb through her hair and put on a shirt to protect her shoulders from the sun, Jordan brought out their lunch.

      He spread the blanket in the shade of a palm tree. Jill knelt down beside him and opened the basket. Inside were generous crab-salad sandwiches, fresh slices of papaya and pineapple and thick chocolate-chip cookies. She removed two cold cans of soda and handed one to Jordan.

      They ate, then napped with a cool, gentle breeze whisking over them.

      Jill awoke before Jordan. He was asleep on his back with his hand thrown carelessly across his face, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. His features were more relaxed than she’d ever seen them. Jill studied him for several minutes, her heart aching for the man she’d loved so long ago. Her father. The man she’d never really had a chance to know. In some ways, Jordan was so much like her father it pained her to be with him, and at the same time it thrilled her. Not only because in learning about Jordan she was discovering a part of her past, of herself, but because she’d rarely felt so alive in anyone’s company.

      As she recognized this truth, a heaviness settled over her. She didn’t want to fall in love with him. She was so afraid her life would mirror her mother’s. Elaine Morrison had grown embittered.