Marriage by Mistake (16 page)

Inside the house, it was even quieter. Dean
held his breath to listen. But nobody lurked in the darkness of the
kitchen, no tantalizing temptation came out of the shadows.

He went into the hall, still breathing
shallow, straining his ears. But nothing, nobody. He went up the
stairs.

Maybe she's left
. He halted at the top
of the stairs with a peculiar, sinking sensation. He'd taunted her
that morning, deliberately mocked her. Maybe he'd gone far enough
to make her quit the scene altogether.

No. Dean shook his head. The woman was
stubborn. She'd made up her mind and she would act on her theory,
baseless as it was.

Not that he
wanted
her to remain in
his home, of course, but he was sure that she had. Dean hesitated
at the top of the stairs. Well, almost sure.

In the midnight house, Dean stole silently
toward Kelly's room.

He knew he was being ridiculous.
Inconsistent. But he needed to know. Was she still here?

When he came to her door, he found it
closed.

Dean stood in the dark hallway and fought an
urge to open her door. Was she, indeed, inside her bedroom?

I'm acting like a fool
. Dean took a
step back. He couldn't open Kelly's bedroom door just to satisfy
his curiosity, intense as it might be.

But he might open it for another reason. Dean
tilted his head. He could open it to discover if she were willing
to go through with her implied invitation of the night before in
the garage.

Facing her closed door in the hall, Dean felt
his body warm and swell toward arousal. He snorted softly. Why,
Kelly didn't have to jump out at him from the bushes in the dark.
He could do a bang-up job of getting seduced all by himself. Look
at him.

He snorted again and took a deliberate step
back.

She was inside the bedroom. Of course she
was, or her door wouldn't be closed but open, ready for the staff
to clean the room in the morning.

Dean felt a flood of relief at this
reasoning. He didn't question the relief, but turned and strode
cheerfully to his own bedroom.

The next morning he exercised in the basement
gym and then showered, all at his usual hour. Or at least, it was
his usual hour since Kelly had moved in and he'd taken steps to
avoid her. Dressed and ready to drive to the city, he took a detour
on his way out the door, however, poking his nose into the morning
room. There he carefully counted how many plates had been set out
for breakfast.

Confirming her presence in the house gave him
a satisfaction that was no doubt absurd. Besides, she was going to
confirm the matter herself soon    and outrageously.

Once at his office downtown, Dean alerted
Mrs. Barnes to let him know immediately when his wife arrived. He
made sure to sound as if he was eager for the occasion.

It was a busy day. But between the phone
calls and the dictating, Dean kept half an ear open, waiting for
Mrs. Barnes' warning.

It never came. Kelly didn't come. She didn't
even call.

Okay, she'd be waiting for him at the house
then, Dean thought. Dinner. She'd think to catch him at the family
meal. He decided not to work late tonight. He could face the music.
Accordingly, he came home ten minutes before the dinner hour.

Indeed, Dean was so early he decided to enter
the house via the front door. He sauntered down the hall and
leisurely climbed the stairs. But he saw no one. Perhaps they were
already sitting at the table? In his bedroom, he quickly changed
his clothes, putting on a polo shirt and slacks. He wouldn't be
caught as the awkward, stilted one at dinner this time.

Moving leisurely again, he ambled down the
stairs. He opened the door to the dining room.

It was empty.

Dean frowned, then remembered to check the
patio outside. But the wrought iron table and chairs were
uninhabited. Frowning harder, he went into the kitchen.

Roberto was eating at the counter. He gulped
and stood when Dean walked into the room. "Sir."

Dean didn't bother with a greeting. "Where is
everybody?"

Roberto wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Went
out to eat, sir. I believe Chuck E. Cheese was mentioned."

"Chuck E. Cheese?"

"Yes, sir."

Dean waved a hand. "That video game and clown
place?"

"Uh, I believe that's the one, yes."

Dean gazed at Roberto, bewildered. It wasn't
the place so much as that they'd left without him. Wouldn't this
have been on Kelly's list for his reformation, to dine at such an
establishment?

"Have you had dinner, sir?" Roberto asked.
"Would you like me to fix you an omelet?"

Dean shook his head.

"A crepe, then, sir?"

"No, no, I mean an omelet will be fine." Dean
withdrew to let Roberto cook. Kelly hadn't even waited for him to
come home    on time. She hadn't even given him a chance
to see her.

Bemused, he ate his omelet alone in the
dining room.

At nine that night, Maggie informed Dean that
Kelly had called. She, Robby, and Troy were going to a movie. By
eleven, the group had not returned home. Dean went up to bed.

For the next three days he saw neither hide
nor hair of Kelly. He made no effort to avoid her, even returning
to his normal morning schedule. Yet their paths did not cross.

It was...unsettling. Dean kept preparing for
the surprise attack. None came.

What, he wondered, was she up to?

On the fourth day, he woke up later than
usual. Purely accidental. But the upshot was he exercised later
than usual, showered and went down for breakfast all later than his
norm. For this reason, his unusual tardiness, Dean happened to be
walking up the stairs after his breakfast when Kelly came down.
Exuding good health and cheer, she was dressed in shorts and a
grass-green cut-off top.

Dean's heart banged against the wall of his
chest. A stupid reaction, but Dean thought he disguised it well. He
nodded as if he'd only seen Kelly an hour before and not four
days.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," she replied, and smiled
brightly.

Staying true to his conceit that he'd only
seen her an hour before and this meeting was no big deal, Dean kept
going up the stairs. Her step lively, Kelly continued down.

And that was that. From the top of the
stairs, Dean could hear her sandals slapping down the hall in the
direction of the morning room. She hadn't tried to stop him, she
hadn't even tried to talk to him. Nothing. His skin tight, Dean
stalked toward his room.

He
wasn't going to turn around.
He
wasn't going to change his routine to seek
her
out. Why, then she would know he gave a damn whether or not he saw
her.

And that's when he got it. Dean halted so
abruptly he nearly stumbled on the second floor runner.

She was waiting for
him
to approach
her
.

He almost laughed out loud. Him, seek her
out? Him, deliberately put himself in the path of temptation? It
would be a cold day in hell. He was not weak. He had self-control.
And he had no need whatsoever for Kelly or her silly, romantic
games.

Letting out a breath, Dean smiled and
proceeded to his room. He felt much better, having figured it out.
Now he was back in control.

Dean drove to the city and his office as per
usual. He made phone calls, he dictated memos. But at odd times
during the day he found himself staring into space. Mrs. Barnes had
to call him three times to answer his own phone. He began to
pace.

Shortly after lunch he admitted he
was
weak. But he paced some more, determined not to give in to the urge
that had seized him. He was not going to go home early to find her.
He wasn't.

###

"Fishing?" Dean said.

Out by the limousine in the early afternoon
sunshine of the front drive, Maggie smiled at him. "Where the
stream runs along the north fence. Miss Williams thought they'd
have the best luck there."

"Fishing," Dean said again. He didn't know
why he was finding this so incredible. It was exactly the kind of
thing Kelly would do. She'd probably go about it by tying string to
a pair of sticks and baiting them with kitchen cheese. Then she'd
probably believe she was actually going to catch something. And
make Robby believe it, too.

"Were you going to join them?" Maggie
asked.

Dean gave her a sidelong glance. "I came home
to fetch a staff report." He closed the back door of the car. "I'll
go inside and get it. Only be a minute."

Maggie smiled. Beside the car, Jackson
nodded.

Dean went into the house. The staff report he
wanted was in the study. Dean was on his way to get it. He really
was. He had
not
come home to see Kelly. It was a plain,
provable fact that he suddenly, urgently needed the report that
he'd left here at home in his study.

As Dean made for the study, he saw Troy
trotting down the stairs. Dressed for tennis, he was probably
emerging from his room for the first time that day. Troy stopped
and dropped his jaw when he saw Dean.

Really, Dean thought, mentally shaking his
head. His cousin didn't have nearly enough to do if such a banal
sight as himself at home during a weekday was going to shock him.
Dean walked right past Troy staring after him    and past
the study door.

Fishing, he thought. Kelly was sitting out
there in the sun with Robby in some kind of Huckleberry Finn
imitation. She presumed she was teaching his little brother how to
'have fun.' She thought Dean didn't know how.

Like hell he didn't.

With a snort, Dean went all the way down the
hall to the game room. Around the other side of a covered,
competition-size billiard table he opened the cabinet that held his
fly-fishing gear.

He had to wipe a layer of dust off the tackle
box. It must have been six years since he'd gone on that
fly-fishing weekend with old man Harris. Being able to cast
properly for trout had sealed the deal on acquiring Harris' R&D
company. Dean blew a cobweb off the rod case.

All right, so he hadn't picked up the fishing
gear in six years. That didn't mean he didn't know how to have fun.
It didn't mean his life wasn't full enough, well-rounded enough.
And he certainly didn't need to be 'released.'

Carrying the fishing gear, Dean opened the
French doors that led outside.

He would show her.

###

Fishing. It seemed an appropriate activity to
Kelly, considering that's what she'd been doing for the past four
days with Dean. Casting her line and hoping. Now she leaned on the
grassy bank, a baseball cap tipped over her face, and sighed.

She was having no more luck with Dean than
she was with the jerry-rigged stick rod and cheddar cheese bait.
Not so much as a nibble.

Lazing around on this warm, idyllic
afternoon, she had to wonder if she'd made a terrible mistake.

After the challenge thrown down in the
morning room on Sunday morning, Kelly had thought hard about her
next move. In the end she'd decided to go with her original
impulse, which was to leave the hunting to her quarry. She figured
Dean's own secret desire for self-liberation would drive him to
seek her out. She thought it would be better for him to face and
acknowledge for himself that he wanted something different in his
life.

That's what she'd thought.

Now she didn't know what to think. He'd
passed her that morning on the stairs as if she were a piece of
furniture.

Kelly bit her lower lip. All right, fine.
She'd known success wouldn't happen right away. Dean would resist.
He'd think he knew better than to go after the freedom he truly
wanted. He'd think it was wise to avoid such a goal, using every
ounce of self-sacrificing discipline he owned.

But Kelly'd been sure he'd have broken by
now, or at least bent.

A few feet down from Kelly, Robby sat hunched
over his own homemade rod. He stared fixedly into the stream. The
fishing that had started as a whim on Kelly's part had gone over
big with Robby. The sun beat down with a pleasant warmth. Even
though her scheme hadn't panned out    yet   
she could at least be enjoying the day. But as Kelly rested on her
elbows, she felt grumpy and unsettled.

She missed Dean.

Kelly stared at the sparkling stream. She
missed him? How could she miss him? He was grim, remote,
unappreciative. They'd never had a conversation in which they'd
actually agreed on anything.

But as Kelly half sat, half lay there, gazing
at the stream, she felt an emptiness, a mild but unignorable
yearning inside. She missed Dean's handsome, forbidding face. She
missed the cool intelligence in his eyes. She missed his dry wit,
his intensity, and the unfailing good manners with which he treated
her.

Kelly blinked at the sunbeams shooting off
the water.

This was crazy. Was she starting to like him?
That is, was she starting to like 'this' Dean, unliberated, without
any of the qualities of the man she'd married in Las Vegas?

"Hey, you're swishing the water." Robby gave
Kelly an irritated look. "You told me we had to keep still."

"Still. Oh yeah, right." Kelly made an effort
to calm the rod she held. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay." Robby went back to staring at
his line. "Just don't do it again."

Kelly gripped her rod tightly. No, she
wouldn't swish the water again. Because it was impossible. She
wasn't starting to like 'this' Dean. That would be...fickle, on top
of stupid, disastrous, and silly.

The only man she was interested in was the
one she'd married and he, apparently, was nowhere to be found. He
certainly hadn't tried to seek Kelly out. He hadn't...shown himself
at all.

At that moment, the bushes across the meadow
parted. A man incongruously dressed in a three-piece Italian suit
and crisp red silk tie proceeded to push through.