Kelly didn't wait to hear what word he might come up with. "I'll take a cab home. The party's kind of over, anyway, don't you think?" She ventured to glance over at him. Somehow, she smiled.
He paused in the center of the room. His expression was conflicted. On the one hand, he clearly did want to go back to the office, to prove he wasn't completely out of control. On the other hand, he seemed to think there were certain rules that applied to this kind of situation and they did not include walking out on a recent sex partner.
Kelly felt warmth rush back into her chest. He truly was a good man.
Just not one who was ready to love her.
The knot leaped back into her throat. She'd done it again. Jumped the gun, made up stories about the man's feelings. Kelly clicked open the door to the bathroom. "It'll just take me a minute to get dressed."
"Kelly — " Dean stepped toward her and Kelly halted. The look that was suddenly on his face — For half an instant she thought he was going to say something incredible, something magical, something that might allow her to believe she hadn't made such a terrible mistake, after all. Then whatever Kelly had seen in Dean's face disappeared.
"I'll call you the cab," he said.
"Right." Kelly pushed open the door of the bathroom. She managed a breezy smile as she stepped through. Once the door was closed and she was alone, however, the smile vanished. She turned to rest her forehead against the closed door.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Here she was in love, and Dean wasn't even happy he'd had sex with her.
Quietly, Kelly knocked her head against the bathroom door. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
###
Alone in his downtown office that Monday evening, Dean didn't get much done. It wasn't that he was tired, though he'd certainly exerted himself during the afternoon spent at the Parker House. Nor did he have trouble finding the parties he needed to reach in order to reschedule his missed appointments — Myers the attorney excluded. No, those weren't his problems.
His problem was Kelly.
Oh, she wasn't there physically. He couldn't blame her sensual aura, the clothes she wore, or that special light in her eyes. But she was there in front of him all the same.
I'm sorry, she'd said, her voice hoarse, her eyes shadowed. I didn't mean to make you miserable, she'd said.
Dean sat behind his desk and stared unseeingly at a budget projection. He couldn't get her voice or those words out of his mind. And he couldn't help wondering: could she have been sincere?
Was it possible she really hadn't wanted to make him miserable?
At his office desk, Dean squeezed his fountain pen between his fingers. An hour ago he'd been in her thrall. Utterly bewitched. Sexually stupefied. He'd easily have spent the next day, the next week, in her arms. He'd have hated himself afterwards, but he'd have done it. He'd totally lost control.
She'd had him just where she wanted him — that is, just where Dean had imagined she wanted him — and she'd let go. She'd called a halt to things, extricated him. She'd even sent him here to his office so he could take care of his responsibilities.
Dean pushed the budget projection away. He stared heavily at the opposite wall. One could almost argue she'd looked out for him, though he wasn't ready to go that far. However...
However, she most certainly hadn't taken advantage of him. She hadn't used his weakness to gain some selfish concession.
Dean scowled and uncurled from his chair. This was not what he'd expected of her, not what he'd...counted on. She was supposed to be bad, selfish, manipulative. She was supposed to be like one of his father's awful brides. Somebody he didn't have to consider.
Instead, she'd been...a mystery. Inexplicable.
Dean paced over to the window. With one hand on the frame, he stared at the lights on the street below. His own behavior had not been mysterious, however. His own behavior had been cloddish, at best. Loutish, at worst. The woman had been giving him the most exhilarating sexual experience of his life, and he'd brought her to an apology! He'd let her take the blame for his own flaws, his own miscalculations. She'd left the Parker House clearly feeling awful, as though she'd done something wrong. He'd let her leave that way.
Talk about bad, selfish, and manipulative.
Cars and people traveled by on the street fifteen stories below. Dean moved his hand from the window frame to a spot beneath his tie.
No, he was not getting much accomplished here at the office.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was not difficult for Felicia to see that her mother was unhappy. Over dinner on Monday evening in the formal dining room, her mother picked at her salad with small, sharp stabs of her silver fork. When she glanced over the polished table, her mouth was pinched. It was not until the main course had been served, however, baked chicken breast with lemon sage dressing, that her mother revealed her problem.
"You had a phone call while you were out," she told her daughter, prodding at the stuffed chicken breast on her plate. "From that cousin of Dean's, Troy." Her mother's gaze flicked up. "He wanted to remind you about your lunch date on Tuesday."
Felicia's first reaction was a rush of anger. Tuesday? Since when had she agreed to have this cursed lunch date with Troy on Tuesday? The last phone call had been hers, postponing the thing, and she hadn't given any date as an alternative. Purposefully. If she put it off long enough, they could both end up forgetting about it.
But, no. Troy couldn't let well enough alone. He had to call her mother, of all people, and set another date.
Her mother... Felicia came back to the land of the living with a bump. Her mother was now gaping at her. She wore the hurt look, the one she got every time she thought Felicia was holding out on her, not spilling every little detail of her life.
"Felicia," her mother asked. "Are you dating Troy Singleton?"
Felicia's eyes widened. "No!" She waved her hands, as if to shoo the notion right out of the room. "No, no, no."
Unfortunately, this strong denial only deepened the hurt expression on her mother's face. Felicia realized she was making it seem more, rather than less, as if romance was involved. "It's not a date. It's — a business meeting." Immediately Felicia realized that was hardly going to fly, considering her mother knew Troy Singleton. "That is, I hope it's going to turn into a business meeting," she quickly amended. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax, to slow down, and to smile. She picked up the salt shaker and drizzled some sodium over her chicken. "I'm trying to talk him into doing fundraising for the Boston Family Aid Foundation."
Brilliant, Felicia congratulated herself. For this was — almost — true.
Her mother tilted her head. "Troy?" She sounded dubious. She did, after all, know the man.
Felicia picked up her knife and began cutting her chicken breast. "Yes, Troy. Despite his lack of experience, he'd be perfect for it. He has everything that's necessary: a good smile, a silver tongue, and the right connections." She pierced a piece of chicken with her fork. "He only needs to be persuaded to bestir himself and do it." Felicia smiled, for that, too, was almost true.
All this truth appeared to convince Felicia's mother. The hurt, strained look on her face eased. "Oh, that's all," she murmured. "Well, good luck to you, my dear. That Troy seems pretty set in his ways."
"Mm." Felicia set her knife to her chicken again. Yes, Troy was set in his ways. Or rather, he was set on getting his way. Calling her mother...
Felicia didn't know whether she was more annoyed with Troy, her mother — or herself. Troy had overstepped the bounds. Her mother knew no bounds. And Felicia — ? Well, Felicia only put up with it all because she was such a coward. It was so easy to live at home with a doting mother whose presence effectively prevented any male of Felicia's acquaintance from thinking she'd fall into bed with him. She didn't have to dream up excuses for saying no. Her excuse was live-in.
She glanced across the table at her mother as a familiar sorrow sifted through her. What a half-life she l
ived. And the half she lived was spent so alone sometimes. This lunch date with Troy, for example. She had no one she could tell the truth about it. She knew no one who could help her scheme a way out of the thing.
She might have to go ahead and meet Troy on Tuesday. Get it over with.
Felicia looked down and impaled a piece of chicken with her fork. Yes, it was no doubt best to get it over with — if Troy was going to go around calling her mother.
###
By the time Kelly arrived back at Dean's humungous house in the woods, she was more than merely late for dinner, she'd missed it altogether. That was all right, though. Dean wasn't there to frown over her sin. He was back at his office, escaping from her and her inexcusable pushiness.
When the cab pulled up to the front door, Kelly added a tip to what Dean had already paid the driver, thanked Maggie, who opened the front door for her, and ran straight upstairs toward her room.
Or she tried to run straight to her room. Troy was coming down the stairs as she was going up. He raised a hand and opened his mouth. Kelly just knew he wanted to ask her if she'd managed to find Dean. So interested.
Really, Kelly thought, with a mental shake of the head. Dean's cousin didn't have nearly enough of his own to do. She smiled and sailed right past him.
But avoiding Robby was another matter. She had to pass his playroom on the way, and though Robby's back was to her, the kid somehow knew she was walking past him. He swiveled his chair from the dinosaurs he'd been exploding with his joystick. "Hey!" he called. "Kelly!"
She had to stop. "Well, hey." She bit her lip and tried to smile.
"So?" Robby bounced against the back of his wheeled chair. "D'you see Dean?"
Kelly felt like scuffing a toe. Oh, why had she boasted to Robby that morning that she was going to track Dean down? "Uh, yeah," she admitted.
Robby smiled. Kelly knew what he assumed. He assumed that she'd known what she was doing, he assumed that her words of determination and insight about helping Dean had been wise.
"Well, that's good then," Robby said.
There was no way Kelly could meet the kid's eyes. Maybe Dean had been right, she was realizing — too late. Maybe she shouldn't have befriended Robby. At least she shouldn't have led him to believe there was a chance she might become a permanent part of his life.
"I mean, isn't it?" Robby asked, turning worried.
"Isn't what what?" Kelly had lost track of the conversation.
Robby got up from his seat. "Isn't it good that you found Dean? Didn't you help him, like you said you were going to?"
Kelly stared at the child. It was all she could do not to burst into hysterical laughter. Had she helped Dean? But Robby was looking at her with trust and worry in his eyes.
"Ahem. Well, you know Dean." Kelly took a step back. "A difficult case. Things...may not go as smoothly as we'd like."
She'd meant her words as a gentle let-down, something to start Robby on the path to harsh reality. But the worry eased from his face. A smile appeared. "Aw, Kelly. You. You're so...fantastically stubborn."
"Uh..."
Robby waved dismissively. "You'll have Dean eating out of the palm of your hand in no time."
Kelly felt like her face was going to shatter.
But Robby had already plopped back into his chair. He'd already swiveled around. The sounds of exploding dinosaurs were already filling the air again. The kid trusted her. He thought she could live up to her own advertising.
Feeling terrible, Kelly backed away and left Robby. God, she'd made nothing but faux pas from the moment she'd entered these doors. She'd bullied Dean and misled Robby. No, she was definitely not living up to her own advertising.
Head down, Kelly opened the door to her bedroom suite. For the first time she could remember, she actually wished she were someone else.
Wanting out of her ill-fated, too-abbreviated clothes, Kelly stripped. She threw on a sweat suit and then paced the bedroom, brimming with guilt and shame. She'd led Robby on, and she'd overwhelmed Dean. She gritted her teeth and shook her head.
Dean. She hadn't thought about what he wanted. No, she'd only been thinking about herself, about what she wanted so badly. A life together with a man she loved.
But Dean certainly didn't love her.
Kelly grimaced and clawed her fingers into her arms. What had she been thinking? Obviously, she hadn't been thinking. She'd been fantasizing, dreaming that he could love her, he only needed to learn how. God.
Kelly came to an abrupt stop by the swag-draped window. Maybe she should leave. Go home.
Kelly squinted out at the dark night. Yes, maybe that was what she should do. Pack up and go. Get out of Dean's life and leave him alone.
She bit her lip. But she'd told Dean she was giving the marriage a two month chance. It had only been two-and-a-half weeks. Leaving now would be going against her word.
Kelly frowned. Did her word really matter in this situation? She didn't want to stay. Dean didn't want her to stay. What was practical — what was humane — was to leave.
In the morning she would go.
The decision made, Kelly suddenly felt exhausted. She dragged off her sweat suit, slipped on her nightgown, and got into bed. But the minute her head hit the pillow she couldn't sleep. Perversely, all she could think about was the last bed she'd lain in, with Dean, and all they'd done together there.
She wriggled onto her side and scrunched the pillow under her head. She shouldn't think about that. It was wrong to dwell on a sexual experience that had not been shared as the same wonderful, enriching thing by both parties. Dean hadn't been into it — Kelly suddenly remembered a moment when his tongue had — No. She stopped herself with a vigorous shake of the head. Despite that tongue thing, Dean hadn't been into it the way she had. He'd been...coerced.
She turned onto her other side. Meanwhile the grandfather clock in the hall tolled out eleven times.
Twelve tolled out and Kelly was still tossing. When she heard a single chime, she wrestled the sheets to switch on the bedside lamp. Sleep was obviously a losing proposition. Maybe she should read a book or watch TV.
Or get a head-start and pack.
Kelly was just swinging her legs over the edge of the bed when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. She halted, certain she couldn't have heard any such thing. It was one in the morning. Who'd be knocking on her door?
But she heard it again, a definite knock. Discreet but determined.
She reached for her wrap on the end of the bed. Maybe it was the maid. Who knew? A place like this, a little tap on the door was probably how they announced a fire. Tying the sash around her waist, Kelly opened the door.
Dean stood outside in the hall.
Kelly's heart took a strangled leap. What in the — ? How — ? She had to be the last person in the world Dean would want to see, and yet there he stood outside her bedroom door, his jaw shadowed with beard and his eyes haunted.
"I saw your light on," he said.
Her heart pounding now, Kelly explained, "I only just turned it on."
He sighed. "I know. I've been standing out here — Listen, could we talk?"
"Talk?"
Dark eyes rose to meet hers. "If you don't mind."
"Well, um." Kelly's pounding heart began to beat harder. "Uh, sure. I don't mind."
Dean lowered his lashes. "Never have I behaved so awkwardly with a woman."
"Oh," Kelly breathed. "No. You weren't — I mean, you were just being honest. And I appreciated that. Really, I did."
He raised his lashes and his eyes seemed to blaze at her. Kelly wilted, but knew she'd feel much better if she could get the whole thing off her chest. "I forced myself on you." Her voice cracked. "It was greed, really. I just wanted — Well, anyway, I am so, so sorry."
Dean's eyes fairly burned. Kelly barely managed to remain upright under that awful glare.
"Sorry," he finally said. It was a harsh whisper. "You're sorry."
She started to tremble. He s
ounded even angrier than she'd imagined he might.
"Kelly." He stepped toward her. "Kelly." His hands closed on her shoulders. "You really aren't — I mean, I always thought — " With a frustrated hiss, he shook his head. "I'm the one who is sorry. What you did, then how I behaved — I couldn't be more ashamed of myself if I'd whipped you." His lips pressed together as he released her. "Which, in a manner of speaking I did."
Kelly stared up into his face, confused. "What? You didn't whip — "
"Kelly."
"You didn't — "
He put a finger against her lips.
Kelly was afraid to say anything then. He certainly looked...adamant. At the same time she knew she was the one at fault. He wouldn't have been 'awkward' with her if she hadn't put him in such a position.
Dean lowered his finger from her lips. "Listen. After we parted this evening I started to think about it, about everything, from the very beginning. And I — " His brows drew down. "I came to the conclusion I've misunderstood you."
"I don't know about that."
Dean gave a harsh laugh. "I do. I have not given you the benefit of the doubt, to put it mildly. And I'm sure that's part of why I...exploded this afternoon."
"Lost control," Kelly murmured.
"Exactly." Dean's steady gaze shifted. "I wouldn't have done that if I'd been seeing you clearly."
"Mm," Kelly said.
Dean swore under his breath. "That didn't come out the way I intended."
"No, no. I think I get what you mean."
"You don't. What I mean is — is — "
"You wouldn't have slept with me if you'd been seeing me clearly."
Dean opened his mouth. He shut it again. His face was the picture of consternation before he laughed. "You think I'd only have wound up in bed with you if I thought you were bad?"
Kelly blinked a few times. "Well, um — " His logic was escaping her. Or perhaps it was her own logic that was failing. Had he thought she was bad? "Still, one way or another, you didn't want to," she insisted.
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