by Alyssa Kress
She'd kissed him, the 'other' Dean — twice now. She'd felt something for him. She'd just spent the entire afternoon primping and dressing for him. And now she was disappointed that he was gone.
This wasn't right. It wasn't wise or good. It wasn't even loyal.
"Oh, well then," Kelly said out loud. "Might as well eat." She walked up to a chair and drew it out. But her mouth felt stuffy.
Robby half climbed, half sat in his chair. Troy seated himself elegantly in his own. With his brows rising, he picked up a linen napkin. "I must say, I can't blame the man for running. Robby told me you were kissing Dean, in the middle of the stream by the north fence." He looked over at Kelly.
"He was kissing me," she corrected, and tossed open her own folded napkin.
Troy snorted. "All the more reason to get scared. What have you done to him, Kelly, thrown some kind of magic spell?"
More like he'd thrown a magic spell on her. She wasn't a fickle person. She'd married a man in Las Vegas. But now, somehow, she was starting to have feelings for this other man in Massachusetts.
"I have to admit — " Troy picked up the spoon for his soup. "I didn't think you were going to get anywhere."
"All of you underestimate me."
"No-o-o." Troy drew out the word. "More like I underestimated Dean. Who'd have guessed he could hold the interest of a decent female this long?" Troy shook his head. "You defy all logic."
Kelly splashed her spoon in her soup. "Logic has nothing to do with it."
"Hm," Troy murmured.
There was a brief silence. Kelly stopped splashing her soup. She regarded the warm, golden color of the butternut squash, then looked up. What had she said? Logic had nothing to do with it.
"I know who I married," Kelly told Troy, vehemently.
Troy started. "Um," he said. "Okay."
Kelly felt heat build beneath her fancy gown, the one she'd picked out just in case Dean had been there for dinner. "I know who I married," she insisted, "and Dean isn't him. He's — he's — a different person altogether."
"Uh...okay," Troy agreed.
Kelly pushed her bowl of soup away. "All right, a part of him is the same, but only a part. And that part keeps coming and going so fast I can't keep track of where it ends and the rest of him begins."
Both Troy and Robby were staring at her. As her words came back to her, Kelly felt like staring at herself. She had just said, she couldn't keep track of where' her' Dean ended and the other one began. "Why, there is no difference between the two," she whispered.
There was no schism, no two, distinct personalities. Dean had been telling the truth in that conference room in Las Vegas. A part of him was the man she had married. That part was always there, but it was only one part. He was much more than that. He was —
Kelly leaned back against the sturdy oak frame of her chair. Who was he?
Troy frowned at her. "No difference between whom, Kelly?"
Good question. Kelly waved a hand. "I thought he was a different person. I mean, he's cold, closed-off, and — and — disapproving." Yes, and that same man had kissed her in the middle of a stream. He'd soaked his fancy business suit, wrestled a fish. Who was Dean?
"He's...more," Kelly said out loud.
"More than cold, closed-off, and disapproving?" Troy's frown deepened. "Not that I know of."
"You're wrong." Kelly laughed, but it was a weak, just-got-hit-in-the-belly kind of laugh. Dean was more. He was loyal, hard-working, and dependable. And when she closed her eyes she could see him standing there with his hands on her face, a look of stark yearning on his own.
He wanted more, too. He wanted love. He really did. In fact, he might even want to love her.
Kelly didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Dean wasn't the man she'd married, but he wasn't not him, either. Oh, how complicated everything had become!
"Personally, I don't think Dean is anything more than that cold, closed-off person you were talking about," Troy spoke up, sounding worried.
"Oh, but he is." Kelly couldn't dismiss the truth. "He just needs — " What? What did Dean need?
"To change his personality?" Troy's eyes widened. "Yes, I believe we could all agree on that."
"No." Kelly put her napkin down. She pushed out of her chair. "What he needs...is to be able to express his personality."
"Uh...doesn't he do that already?"
"No." Kelly paced the length of the dining room table. "He doesn't feel safe. And why should he? No one's ever made him feel that way."
Troy's brows drew down. "Don't get me wrong. I like having you here. But — " He grimaced. "But come on. Dean, not feeling safe? I can't think of anyone more supremely arrogant than my cousin."
Kelly arched her brows at Troy. "Is that right?"
"Yeah." But Troy's gaze averted, and he shifted in his seat. It was all the confirmation Kelly sought.
Troy seemed to know it. "Okay, fine," he said. "Dean may have his...little problems. But I'm sure he feels safe. Or, even if he doesn't, how could you make him feel that way?"
"I don't know how." Kelly gripped the back of her chair. "I only know I have to try."
Troy's gaze narrowed. "You have to try." His eyes became mere slits. "Why?"
Why?
While Troy's regard was narrow, Robby's was wide, and curious.
Why?
Kelly refused to acknowledge the immediate answer that came to mind. She stalked back toward her chair. "How...? Now, that won't be easy, of course." In fact, she hadn't a single, viable idea of how to make Dean feel safe, how to allow him to be who he really was.
But she would think of something, because this was important, vital, no longer a choice. She had to help him.
"No, I don't know the how of it," Kelly admitted and sighed with a wry smile. "But it looks like I have 'til Monday to figure it out."
CHAPTER TWELVE
It would have been a great weekend, Troy thought, with Dean guaranteed to be gone, except that he had this apology deal with Felicia to get over with on Sunday. Or at least Troy thought he'd get the apology over with on Sunday, but late Friday night he hit the button on the answering machine in his bedroom and found out she was going to keep the wretched thing hanging over his head — again.
"...so very sorry," Felicia's voice claimed, in her best high-society accent. "I completely forgot about this luncheon I absolutely must attend on Sunday for the Head Start Support Foundation. Really, I don't know how it slipped my mind. So, please, let's set another day. Next week perhaps..." Her voice trailed off as she muttered a few other inanities and said good-bye.
With one hand loosening his silk party tie, Troy used the other to put a finger over the stop button on the machine and slowly depress it. He could feel a muscle in his jaw clench. She was putting it off — again.
He might not have minded, he might even have approved of Felicia's delaying tactics if it wasn't looking more and more like his apology was going to be necessary.
Hell. Dean and Kelly looked like they might actually take a stab at being married to each other. His stuffy, uptight cousin had kissed her. Quite a smooch, if Robby was to be believed. And at dinner that night Kelly had sounded far gone, like she was falling in love, for heaven's sake.
Troy shook his head. Kelly was either heading for one terrific drop or...she was going to end up married, really married, to Dean.
The idea of Dean being permanently off the market and of the position in which that placed Felicia caused all sorts of conflicting and unpleasant emotions to churn in Troy's gut.
The more time that passed, the more difficult this apology was going to be.
He picked up the phone, about to call Felicia right then and there, about to demand she not put him off again, when he realized it was well after midnight. Cursing under his breath, he set the phone back down. He took a pace across the brown-gold carpet.
Perhaps it was just as well he couldn't call her. He needed to think. He needed to plan and strategize an
d come up with a guaranteed way to get Felicia to have this lunch date with him. Troy expelled a disgusted breath. Yes, he had to think.
Felicia had a way of forcing him to do that.
###
After a miserable weekend in Atlanta, Dean returned to Boston on Monday morning knowing exactly what had to be done. He went straight from the airport to his office.
"Get Myers on the phone, would you?" he asked Mrs. Barnes as soon as he walked through the door.
"Myers?" Mrs. Barnes looked up from her computer. "Your attorney?"
"That's right. See if you can set up an appointment for today."
"Yes of course, Mr. Singleton."
Ah, Dean thought, a woman who listened and did what she was told. So...refreshing. He continued through to his office, feeling good enough to whistle. The solution was so easy he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before.
Money. Everybody had his — or her — price. Dean chuckled. He wouldn't be falling down on his responsibility. Not if Kelly took it. That would mean she was accepting compensation, money for breach of promise. He'd be clear.
For the first time in countless days, Dean sat behind his desk, ready to work.
Mrs. Barnes buzzed. Dean pressed on the intercom. "Yes?"
"Would twelve-thirty do?" Mrs. Barnes asked. "Mr. Myers is completely booked, but will take off lunch since it's you."
Dean smiled hard enough to hurt. "Twelve-thirty is fine. Tell him I'll bring lunch."
"Very good, sir."
Dean released the intercom button and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. This was so damnably simple. By one o'clock, one-thirty at the latest, all his problems would be solved. He'd have Myers draw up a cash settlement, something not even Kelly could refuse. Yes, she would take the money.
And she'd be out of his life.
No more sighings over opera, no more fishing with bare hands. No more scary, out-of-this-universe kisses. Sanity. Whistling for real now, Dean separated his hands and bent over the papers on his desk.
Three hours of steady work later, Dean checked his watch. His eyebrows jumped, and he smiled. Three solid hours. Yes, he had been ready to get back to business. He straightened the papers on his desk and reached for his jacket. Mrs. Barnes buzzed.
Dean grimaced. Had Myers thought they were supposed to meet here? He pressed the intercom. "Tell him I don't have lunch yet."
Mrs. Barnes ignored that. "Your wife is here," she said.
Dean froze, his finger on the intercom. No. He hadn't heard that. He hadn't had a chance to meet with Myers yet. He — he didn't have the information necessary to strike a deal.
"Mr. Singleton?" Mrs. Barnes said.
Dean realized he was going to have to do something. He straightened, took a deep breath, and depressed the intercom button again. "My wife?" He did his best to sound casual. "Why, send her on in." As if there was anything else he could do. God.
One second later, the door of his office opened. Kelly sauntered in.
Every cell in Dean's body jumped to electrical awareness. It was almost painful. Almost.
"Well, hey," Kelly said, smiling.
Dean swallowed. He should have instructed Mrs. Barnes to make her wait, not that time would have dulled her effect. Her smile alone — It could warm the North pole. And then there was what she was wearing, one of those knit tops with spaghetti-thin straps, the kind that show a woman's bra straps. Only Kelly wasn't showing any bra straps.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Kelly sashayed in the direction of his desk. Her skirt was short. Very short.
Dean was glad he was standing behind the desk, and that the desk was piled sufficiently high with papers. It wouldn't do for her to notice his immediate, and purely physical, reaction.
He cleared his throat. "No, you're not interrupting anything at all." Except a meeting to get rid of you. He raised his eyebrows. "What can I do for you?"
Her eyes laughed at him. "Oh. So polite. So helpful." On the other side of his desk, she came to a stop.
"Excuse me?" Dean tried to look innocent.
She wagged a finger. "You ran away."
Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Dean could feel his face flush. "I — had to get to our plant in Atlanta. It was an emergency."
"Oh, I'm sure it was." She rolled her eyes. "Since you finally broke down and kissed me."
Dean crushed his teeth together. He could still feel that kiss, its velvety excitement. "Is there a reason you're here, Kelly?" As if he didn't know. She was here to...sink her claws into him. Well, he wasn't going to let her. He was going to make his meeting with Myers. They would concoct a plan to extract her claws.
She twisted to perch a hip on the corner of his desk. "I'm here so you can make it up to me." She threw him a very naughty smile.
Dean tried to meet her gaze dispassionately, but his inner temperature spiked. It was impossible not to fantasize exactly how she'd like him to 'make it up.' As calmly as he could, he lifted his watch. "Ahem, maybe some other time. You see, I have an appointment."
She laughed. "Oh, no. I'm sorry Dean, but you can't use that excuse again."
Her face had come alive with her laugh, become radiant. Dean forced himself to breathe. "It's not an excuse." Indeed, if he didn't manage to get Kelly out of his office soon, he'd miss his chance to make sure she never ambushed him there again.
"It is an excuse, but I'll tell you what." Kelly's head tilted. "I'll consider us quits if you answer one question."
Dean stared. That was it? One question? He didn't believe she would make it this easy, but asked, "What?"
To his surprise, her teasing gaze dropped. When she spoke, she sounded almost timid. "Tell me, Dean, what was the hypnotic suggestion?"
He froze.
Kelly looked up. "I always assumed it was — well, for you to go out and do something embarrassing. But I asked Troy and he said it wasn't that, but he wouldn't tell me. He said it would have to come from you." She gazed at Dean steadily.
Dean gazed right back, even though it seemed like all the air was leaving the room. The hypnotic suggestion. He couldn't answer her. Not truthfully. She'd make all kinds of assumptions — false assumptions. Like they really were meant to stay together or that he actually wanted to fall in love with her. He made himself breathe and his eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid that information is...not forthcoming."
"Not forthcoming?"
"I'm not going to tell you."
This provoked a lengthy perusal from those witchy green eyes. "You mean," she said at last, "it's too personal."
Dean gave a curt nod.
Kelly held her fortune-teller eyes on him a minute more, then lowered her gaze. "Okay," she said. "I guess I can understand that."
Dean blinked. She could? She was going to back off? Not that he planned to stick around and look a gift horse in the mouth. "Thank you," he said stiffly, and began to come around from behind his desk. "Then if you'll excuse me, I really do have an appointment to make."
He thought he was going to get away, he really did. He was halfway to the door when she stepped in front of him. She put a hand on his chest. "Not so fast."
"Pardon?" Dean tried his best to look unworried, though his heart was beating very fast beneath her hand.
"You didn't answer my question." The corners of Kelly's mouth curved. "So, now you owe me."
"I — what?"
"You owe me. Still. For running away the other day. So — " She got a wicked sparkle in her eye. "So no going to your appointment unless...you kiss me."
"What?"
"You heard. Kiss me. Right here." She tapped her lips.
Dean's own lips parted. No way, no how. He wasn't going to kiss her. It was exactly the kind of activity — the dangerous kind — he was going to meet Myers to prevent.
"You don't think you can do it." Kelly was arch.
"Of course I can do it."
"Hmm, yes. You kiss very well." Kelly patted his tie. "But you
couldn't just kiss me and stop there. Not any more."
"What are you talking about?"
Her eyes flicked up at him. "Your famous self-control. You don't have it with me."
The look in her eyes sent a thrill through Dean. "Nonsense." His own gaze averted. "You are no different than any other woman."
"Oh, really?" Her hand moved up his tie, lightly circling it. "Prove it."
Dean swallowed. That thing she was doing with his tie made his knees feel weak, but he could do it. He could kiss her, knowing it was a means to get out the door to meet Myers, and that Myers was a means to get her out of his life altogether. "Fine," he said. "I'll prove it."
Triumph — or was it arousal — flashed across her face. Dean felt a simultaneous fire blaze inside, but he could manage this. He did have the self-control.
Jaw clenched, he put one hand over hers. He moved it down from his tie. But that didn't really help. As she looked up at him he could feel heat spread from his center out to his extremities. But, fine. That didn't mean he was going to get carried away. He could kiss her and stop at that. In fact, he could make it a very short kiss. He had that much control.
He put his free hand on her cheek and bent his face to hers. They would touch lips, he decided. That defined a kiss. And it wouldn't be cowardly to leave it at that. Simply...prudent. His face lowered. Mouth touched mouth.
At the contact of his flesh to hers an incredible sensation rushed through Dean. A tidal wave, a volcano, a hurricane.
But still... He could pull back. He could stop there, as Kelly had taunted him that he couldn't. Even against a hurricane he could maintain control. But Dean didn't pull back. His lips stayed pressed against Kelly's.
He waited for the hurricane to pass, but there was no attenuation. On the contrary, the sensation grew wilder. More out of control. Dean felt his lips move against hers.
Oh, her lips were soft, pliant, amazingly giving beneath the savagery growing inside him. Then she moaned.
It was the merest sound, like a kitten's mew. But it made Dean breathe in hard and feel even more barbaric. He moved closer. God, he couldn't stop — feeling. It was — overpowering. His grip on her tightened and his mouth got fierce.
Kelly melted under this assault. Gulping in air, Dean squeezed her yet closer. His hands moved up and down her back.