The Man You'll Marry: The First Man You Meet and the Man You'll Marry by Debbie Macomber

Author:Debbie Macomber [Macomber, Debbie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781441816337
Amazon: 144181633X
Publisher: Brilliance Audio on CD Unabridged
Published: 1992-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Jill awoke late the following morning. It was rare for her to sleep past eight-thirty, even on weekends. The tour bus wasn’t scheduled to leave the hotel until ten, so she took her time showering and dressing. Breakfast consisted of coffee, an English muffin and slices of fresh pineapple, which she ate leisurely on her lanai, savoring the morning sunlight.

Out of curiosity, she glanced over at Jordan’s room to see if the drapes were open. They were. From what she could discern, he was sitting at a table near the window, talking on his phone and working with his computer.

Business. Business. Business.

The man lived and breathed it, just like her father had. And, in the end, it had killed him.

Dismissing Jordan from her thoughts, she collected her purse and hurried down to the lobby, where she was meeting the tour group.

The sightseeing expedition proved excellent. Jill visited Pearl Harbor and the U.S.S. Arizona memorial and a huge shopping mall, returning to the hotel by three o’clock.

Her room was cool and inviting. Jill took a few minutes to examine the souvenirs she’d purchased, a shell lei and several colorful T-shirts. Then, with a good portion of the day still left to enjoy, she decided to spend the remaining afternoon hours lazing around the pool. Once again she glanced over at Jordan’s room, her action almost involuntary. And once again she saw that he was on the phone. Jill wondered if he’d been talking since morning.

Changing into her bathing suit, a modest one-piece in a—what else—Hawaiian print, she carried her beach bag, complete with three different kinds of sunscreen, down to the swimming pool. With a large straw hat perched on her head and sunglasses protecting her eyes, she stretched out on a chaise longue to absorb the sun.

She hadn’t been there more than fifteen minutes when a waiter approached carrying a dome-covered platter and a glass of champagne. “Ms. Morrison?”

“Yes?” Jill sat up abruptly, knocking her hat askew. “I…I didn’t order anything,” she said uncertainly as she reached up to straighten her hat.

“This was sent compliments of Mr. Wilcox.”

“Oh.” Jill wasn’t sure what to say. She twisted around and, shading her eyes with her hand, looked up. Jordan was standing on his lanai. She waved, and he returned the gesture.

“If that will be all?” the waiter murmured, stepping away.

“Yes…Oh, just a moment.” Jill scrambled in her beach bag for a tip, which she handed to the young man. He smiled his appreciation.

Curious, she balanced the glass of champagne as she lifted the lid—and nearly laughed out loud. Inside was a large array of crackers topped with caviar. She glanced up at Jordan a second time and blew him a kiss.

Something must have distracted him then. He turned away, and when Jill saw him again a few minutes later, he was pacing the lanai, phone in hand. She was convinced he’d completely forgotten about her. It was ironic, she mused, and really rather sad; here he was in paradise and he’d hardly ventured beyond his hotel room.

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