Marriage by Mistake (25 page)

Kelly made a low sound, though whether of
pleasure or scorn Dean couldn't tell. Hell, maybe she'd have
preferred the natural light of the moon. He hadn't thought of
that.

Clearly, he hadn't thought of anything that
would please her tonight.

Kelly's sneakers crunched on the gravel of
the drive that led off toward the garage. "I remember there's a
kind of meadow at the end of the trees in that direction." She
waved a hand. "Do you know how to get there?"

Dean gave a jerky nod. "This way." He walked
past her and toward the path that wound through the woods. He
didn't dare take her hand. If he did, she'd find out he wasn't
nearly as calm as he was pretending.

It was absurd, really. His whole goal here
was to come to an end in the relationship. If Kelly were displeased
with him, he should be happy. That meant she'd discovered their
fundamental incompatibility. They could come to a mutual, amicable
parting of the ways.

But, damn it, Dean wasn't ready for that. He
wasn't...through with her yet.

They walked side by side through the trees.
Accompanying them was the gentle peeping of new frogs and a hint of
the symphony of crickets that would come later in the summer. The
setting would have been bucolic if Dean hadn't felt so
panicked.

What did she want from him? What?

The path wound upward until the trees
thinned. They were beyond the scope of the electric lights by then,
picking their way along the softly matted path.

"Yes," Kelly breathed, looking forward.
"This."

They came out into the meadow, a place of
grass and wildflowers left to grow at will. Dean's hands itched to
take Kelly and draw her into his arms. He wanted them close again.
But she didn't want closeness. She'd told him so. Panic clawed its
way up his throat.

Kelly walked away from him through the long,
bending grass. He could see her breathing in deeply. He gazed
around himself in desperation, searching frantically for something,
anything, to say.

"Uh, so how is Robby?" he blurted.

Dumb. Dumb as a post. But it was the best
Dean could come up with under the circumstances. Pretending he
wasn't nearly suffocating from fear, he shrugged. "I haven't seen
him for the past several days. I assume you've continued
befriending him. How has he been lately?"

"The truth?" Kelly turned to face him,
crossing her arms over her chest. "I think he's bored."

"Bored? Oh." Dean wondered, without much
hope, if this was the problem. Did Kelly blame him for Robby's
boredom?

In the darkness, she frowned. "Troy is out of
sorts, as well. He's actually been home for dinner four nights in a
row. Very strange. But as for Robby, well    I never
thought I'd say this, but I think he needs to be in school."

On top of everything else, Dean felt a surge
of guilt. "I tried," he told Kelly. "No one would take him so late
in the semester. Not to mention his running-away problem and poor
grades. And now the school year is basically over."

"Ah, that's right." Kelly sighed. "Then even
someplace local wouldn't work."

"I'm afraid not."

Kelly uncrossed her arms. "What about a
tutor?"

"A tutor."

"He could make up for this lost semester,
maybe even raise his grades." Kelly waved an arm. "And he'd get
some confidence, being at home and getting individual attention and
all."

"A tutor," Dean repeated. So simple. So
exceptionally simple, and the idea had never occurred to him.

"Of course, he still needs some contact with
other children his age," Kelly went on. Her lips pursed. "Maybe a
few days a week in a summer day camp as well."

"Day camp." But Dean was still thinking about
that tutor. Robby could be got ready for school in the fall. Dean
had despaired, but it could be done.

"Yes," Kelly said. "Do you think you could
find somebody for the tutoring bit?"

Dean smiled widely. "I know people who know
people."

"Well, good then." Kelly was smiling,
too.

They were standing in the moonlight, yards
apart from each other, and both grinning like idiots. Whatever it
was she'd wanted, he'd managed to deliver it, by guesswork, by
sheer, stupid luck.

She wasn't unhappy with him any more.

The sense of relief that wound through Dean
was intense. It was so intense it took a minute before he got it.
His smile vanished. His relief turned to horror.

He'd cared. He'd cared about making her happy
with him. Desperately.

"What?" Kelly's smile disappeared now, too.
"What's the matter?"

Dean stood frozen. He couldn't believe
himself. He was a traitor to his own cause. He needed her
un
happy with him. He needed to make this thing end. Instead
he'd just done everything in his power to make it continue.

Why
? For God's sake,
why
?

"What's the matter?" Kelly repeated.

"Nothing." Woodenly, Dean turned toward the
house. "It's getting late. We ought to start back."

But Kelly wasn't moving. They'd been happy
one second ago, really connecting. And now Dean was acting like a
long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"No." She remained right where she was
planted. "What just happened?"

Dean stopped. His back stiffened. "You're
unhappy with me again."

"What? No. I wasn't unhappy with you to begin
with    " Kelly stopped. She realized that wasn't exactly
true. "All right," she conceded slowly. "Maybe I was a little
upset, but not with you. I was upset with    well, our
activities of late."

"Our activities?"

Kelly cleared her throat. "We only
   you know."

Slowly, Dean turned. He was frowning. "But
don't you like    ?"

"Well, yeah, sure." Kelly felt her face warm.
"But that's not
all
I'd like to do with you."

"No?"

He looked so confused, Kelly had to smile.
"No," she assured him. "I'd like to do all kinds of things with
you."

He cocked his head. "You would."

"Sure."

"But    other things aren't intense
enough. They won't get us through    "

"Through? Through what?"

Dean shook his head. "Never mind." He pressed
his lips together. "So what, exactly, do you think you want to do
with me?"

"Oh...anything. This walk, for instance. I'm
liking this walk."

Dean snorted.

"I am." Kelly took a step toward him. "It
isn't all that important what we do, just so long as we do it
together."

Dean's eyes narrowed on her. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why?"

Kelly hesitated. It was the million-dollar
question. And just how far, she wondered, dare she answer it?
"Why?" she asked again, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well, I guess because...I like you." Her heart beat very fast.

Dean went absolutely still. He stared at
Kelly like he'd never seen a creature of the sort in his life. "You
like me," he repeated.

Kelly tried to look nonchalant. "Sure."

Dean continued to stare until Kelly couldn't
take it any more.

"And you like me," she announced firmly. She
held out her hand. "Come on, you were right. It's time to go
inside."

For an awful moment she thought Dean was
going to ignore her outstretched hand. But then, jerkily, he
reached out. Their palms connected. Slowly, carefully, Dean closed
his hand around hers.

"All right," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Let's go inside."

###

Dean walked toward the house in a daze. She
said she liked him. She
liked
him. The woman was clearly
confused, muddled by the inexplicably powerful emotions roused by
their physical passion. He was no doubt adding to her confusion in
doing something so cozy as holding her hand.

Nevertheless, he gripped Kelly's hand all the
way back to the house. He sensed this gesture was dangerous, but he
didn't let go. Inside, he hummed.

Hand in hand then, they walked through the
kitchen and into the main hall. The stairs loomed before them. She
didn't really
like
him, Dean reminded himself. She just
thought she did, as a natural by-product of their physical
infatuation. The same with him liking her. Oh sure, she was sweet
and nice and all that, but the 'liking' would pass, probably around
the same time that their physical obsession faded.

Nevertheless, he kept her hand all the way up
the stairs.

As they approached Kelly's bedroom door, Dean
wondered if she still had a 'headache.' Not that it would be a good
idea for them to have sex tonight. In fact, it would be a damn
disaster. She'd take it all wrong. And besides, sex didn't seem to
be moving this relationship toward its natural conclusion.

But that didn't stop Dean from feeling a tug
of disappointment when Kelly let go of his hand at her bedroom door
and turned with definite physical evasion. "So," she said, and
leaned her back against the door.

"So." Dean had no idea what else to say.

Kelly wore a soft smile. "Thanks," she told
him. "That walk was exactly what I needed tonight."

"It was?" But it couldn't have been,
according to Dean's theory. As far as he understood things, Kelly
needed exactly what he did: physical passion. Their sexual
attraction to each other was at the core of this whole mess. A
little walk couldn't truly have satisfied her.

But Kelly's smile only widened. "Uh huh.
You're very good to me, you know."

Dean could feel his face warm. "Well..."

"You pay attention," she claimed. Then she
stepped forward and Dean felt the quick brush of her lips on his.
"Good night, Dean."

He had to close his eyes at the touch of her.
Such a simple thing, so soft, so delicate, yet it ran through him
with earth-shattering force. Meanwhile Kelly opened her bedroom
door, stepped around it, and was gone.

Dean was left in the hall, shaken by that
small kiss, though he knew by all his theories he shouldn't have
been. He really shouldn't have been.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

On Saturday night, Felicia decided she
couldn't avoid the Club forever. She might run into Troy, true, but
such a meeting was going to occur sooner or later. Considering the
people and places they had in common, they were going to see each
other again. Repeatedly. Somehow they would have to get back on a
normal footing.

Still, she didn't expect to see Troy her very
first time back. Walking into the lounge of cool green walls and
smart white furniture to find him sitting there in an overstuffed
armchair was something of a shock. He had one smartly clad knee
crossed over the other and was joking with Joe Esterley and Martin
Goeffland. Felicia's immediate reflex was to turn around and leave
the room.

But she suppressed the cowardly impulse. This
was her club, too. If she wanted to sit in the elegant, half-lit
lounge and enjoy a glass of white wine then she shouldn't let the
mere presence of Troy stop her.

Pinning a casual smile on her face, she
straightened her shoulders and waltzed on in. But she was acutely
conscious of Troy across the room, still chatting with his friends
and apparently unaware of her. She was terribly conscious of her
own body, the working of her legs and hips beneath her St. John
white dress as she moved toward the bar. And she was blisteringly
conscious of the precise moment Troy caught sight of her. From the
corner of her eye she saw his nonchalant smile falter.

An astonishing rush of satisfaction went
through her.

Behind her cool smile, Felicia gritted her
teeth. Oh, but feeling satisfaction was...inappropriate. She
shouldn't want Troy to notice her, nor should she want him
disconcerted because he had.

Deliberately, she placed her back to Troy and
his little group as she slid onto one of the leather cushioned bar
stools. "Glass of the house white, please," she told the
bartender.

The young woman with the blond ponytail
smiled and nodded. "Right there, Miz Thurgood."

Felicia kept on smiling but her heart pounded
at the sound of Troy's voice, recovered from his shock and now
rumbling in and out of the conversation going on behind her. It was
no lie they needed to get back to a normal footing. For three days
now she'd been hearing that voice, seeing his face. She'd been over
and over it, the image of his stark features right before his mouth
had come down on hers. The gritty sound of his voice telling her he
was
attracted
to her, that all this time he'd actually
liked
her.

At odd moments of the day her heart would
speed, just as it did now, simply from remembering.

Felicia breathed in and out deeply,
determined to calm down.

"You okay, Miz Thurgood?" The bartender's
youthful features showed concern as she set a glass of pale gold
wine in front of Felicia.

Felicia brightened her smile. "What? Oh, I'm
fine." To prove it, she lifted her glass and took a small sip,
smiling again at the bartender as she lowered the glass.

The young woman's expression relaxed and she
turned away. Felicia's smile faded. The wine, which she knew was
excellent, tasted like water. Nothing, actually, had tasted very
interesting since Troy's kiss.

Meanwhile, Felicia could hear the group
behind her breaking up. Joe was announcing he had a dinner meeting.
Martin grumbled that he had a wife and kids waiting for him at
home. Felicia felt her heart pounding mercilessly against the wall
of her chest.

Troy was going to leave, too. He was going to
walk out with the other two men. She tensed, in anticipation of
being able to relax.

"Tennis tomorrow?" Troy asked someone.

"Noon," Martin replied. "On the dot, man.
Some of us have jobs."

Troy chuckled. But then, instead of leaving
with the others, he walked right up to Felicia. The hair on her
arms stood up straight as he sauntered oh, so casually, to the
barstool on her right.