God.
And somehow...somehow...this disaster was all Troy's fault.
Felicia couldn't say exactly how. She only knew that Troy had given her the news about Dean's marriage with such obvious delight. With smug glee he'd made it clear he understood the dreams she'd had. And he mocked them. He mocked her. He always did. He was odious, a toad, slime.
Down below, outside the window, Felicia could hear Aunt Hilda and Uncle Garrett's voices. They'd come out the front door and were saying goodbye to her mother.
When Felicia heard the slam of their car door, she moved. If her mother saw her light on under the door she would surely come in and submit Felicia to her interrogation this evening, instead of waiting for morning.
Her mother wanted to know everything that Felicia did, everything she thought and felt. It was a constant challenge to satisfy her mother's curiosity and maternal concern, even while telling her nothing of genuine intimacy. Sometimes...sometimes Felicia considered moving out of her childhood home — even if it would mean leaving her mother all alone.
But for now Felicia stole on experienced feet to the switch beside her bedroom door. With a flick of her hand, she plunged the room into darkness. Later, after her mother had walked past and gone into her own room Felicia could turn the lights back on.
Meanwhile, waiting with hushed breath in the darkness, Felicia could see the red light on her answering machine blinking. Someone had called on her personal phone line while she'd been at the opera.
Dean? Felicia thought, with a stupid leap of hope. Stupid, because Dean wasn't about to call her, even if he hadn't been married. She barely crossed his mind. The message was probably from a fellow member of one of the many boards to which Felicia belonged. There was the problem of finding a professional fundraiser for the Boston Family Aid Foundation, a problem that was becoming more urgent as the purely volunteer efforts to raise money fell short.
Felicia bit her lower lip. The Family Aid Foundation was close to her heart. She wanted to give families — mostly single mothers — a chance to get their lives together, to become independent and self-sufficient.
So once she heard her mother's bedroom door close at the end of the hall, she moved across the room to her bedside table. There she switched on the small lamp and then hit the button for the answering machine.
But it wasn't one of her contacts at the Family Aid Foundation. No, of all things it was Troy's voice that came out of the pretty white answering machine which sat on her night table.
"Guess this is kind of a shock," Troy muttered.
He could say that again. Felicia stared at her answering machine, which had suddenly become an alien creature, allowing Troy's voice to be stored inside, and now letting it drawl forth, right into Felicia's most private space.
Troy was everything Dean was not. Troy exuded sexuality. He was like — a big tom cat, physically expert and deeply sensual. Even now, his mere voice was making Felicia's hair stand on end.
"Don't know if I've ever called you about anything at all," Troy went on. "But — that's not the point. The point is — " And here Troy sighed, deeply. "The point is I wanted to ask you out...to lunch, I guess. Yeah, lunch." Here Troy cleared his throat. "I, uh, believe I owe you an apology."
An apology! Felicia didn't know whether to fall over in a dead faint or scream. Troy wanted to apologize? To her? Good God, did he feel sorry for her?
"So please call me back," Troy said. He rattled off a phone number and ended by saying, "You may think I've already taken care of my obligation by calling and leaving a phone message to say I'm sorry about the way I dumped Dean's marriage news on you." Then Troy's voice got weird, almost stern. "But you and I both know that an apology recorded on an answering machine doesn't cut it. I have to take you somewhere, and you have to come. That is...if you intend to accept my apology." There was a pause before he said, "So that's it."
The answering machine beeped and a computer voice announced, "End of messages."
Great, Felicia thought, glaring at the miserable machine. Just great. Troy was right. If he was going to apologize, properly, and if she intended to accept that apology — which she was bound to do — then they had to meet, in person.
As if losing Dean hadn't been bad enough.
Felicia crushed her teeth together, because the urge to open her mouth and scream was strong. Oh, how she hated Troy. She hated him, hated him, hated him!
CHAPTER TEN
It took until the next morning for Kelly to regret her kissing impulse of the night before. In her baby-doll, she sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed her forehead. What had she been thinking? No. That was the trouble. She hadn't been thinking.
Kelly sighed, pushed off the bed, and dragged herself into the shower. What she'd done last night was try to rationalize what she'd wanted to do all along: kiss Dean. She'd let her physical attraction for the man overrule her senses.
Kelly stood under the shower with her head lifted toward the spray. Unfortunately, she'd made a promise down there in the garage. She wasn't leaving.
But that didn't mean she had to proceed with this insane idea of 'releasing' Dean. Why, every women's magazine in the country, every self-help book on the shelves would say as much. It was impossible to change a man. You had to accept him the way he was.
Kelly wasn't ready to accept Dean the way he was.
She stepped out of the shower, drew on a pair of shorts, and then wiggled into one of her colorful tops. She was stuck here then, she thought. Seven-and-a-half more weeks. But she wasn't going to try to help, change, or improve Dean during that time.
Hungry for breakfast now, Kelly went down the stairs. At the archway into the morning room, she stopped short. Dean sat at the table with Troy and Robby.
Dean? Kelly blinked. She'd been sure he'd skedaddle after that kiss in the garage. She'd been certain he'd avoid her now more than ever. He wouldn't want to have anything to do with her or her proposed mission.
But there he sat, reading a newspaper. He looked up, caught Kelly's eye, and nodded a greeting. As if there was nothing unusual about the situation, kiss included.
Suspicious, Kelly stepped into the room. She squinted and took a seat across from him. Pride aside, she knew Dean couldn't possibly consider that kiss ignorable.
"'Morning, Kelly," Robby called from behind a bowl of cereal. "How was the opera?"
"Yes." Troy looked haggard, as if he'd woken much earlier than his wont. "How did you two enjoy yourselves?"
They were obviously checking up on their bet. Considering Troy's evident exhaustion, Kelly wondered just how high the stakes were in this wager. She gave them both a big, noncommittal smile. "The opera was fantastic."
"You were home later than we expected." Troy's eyes narrowed as he fingered the edge of the unused plate in front of him.
"You waited up?" Kelly felt an instant of embarrassment, then realized Troy couldn't have witnessed what had happened in the garage, even if he had waited up.
"I was...on the Internet," Troy explained. "You know how you can lose track of time."
"Oh, yes," Kelly agreed sweetly, only mildly annoyed now. "All those adult websites."
Dean snorted — the first hint he was even following the conversation — and Troy turned red.
"It's a legitimate user group," Troy claimed. "Besides, Dean's the one who needs adult websites."
Robby snickered, though Kelly couldn't imagine he knew what they were talking about. Meanwhile, Dean merely smiled and folded over a page in his newspaper.
Troy turned to him. "What's going on with you, Dean? I'm about to lose my bet here."
"Yes, I'm afraid you may lose that bet." Dean lowered his newspaper. "You see, Kelly thinks she's going to 'release' me. It's a project that may take some time."
Troy shot Kelly a confused look, while Kelly stared at Dean. So, he knew about the bet. And he casually told the others what she'd said last night in the garage, in his arms...as if it were some big joke.
br />
Well, it had certainly been stupid, but it hadn't been a joke. At the time she'd been serious and sincere.
Now she felt her face go hot.
Over his newspaper, Dean gave Kelly a patronizing smile. "Where were you going to start this morning, Kelly? I'm planning on going to the office, yes, even on a sunny Sunday morning. What ploy will you use to try to stop me, to...save me from myself?"
The room went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Kelly felt the heat in her face spread to the rest of her body. He was deliberately mocking her. It made no difference that Kelly had been mocking herself just a few minutes before.
"You think I can't do it?" Her voice come out low.
Dean didn't appear to realize that her question was genuine. He continued his smug smile.
A part of Kelly realized she was being goaded. Maybe Dean even thought he was going to scare her off. Well! He was having the opposite effect. She was making a complete about-face regarding his reformation. In fact, her opinion of the odds of success just leaped upward.
Not only could she reform him, she would. She'd wrestle 'her' Dean out of the guy if she had to pin him to the mat. She smiled very slowly. "All right, then. You're on."
"Excuse me?"
"You just issued a challenge. I'm taking you up on it."
Dean's expression managed to get more self-satisfied. "But I thought you were the one who was challenging me?" he purred.
"Is that how you see it?"
"Yes. You're the one who — " Dean stopped himself, the smugness suddenly gone and color brightening his face. Kelly smiled. She knew what he'd been about to say. You're the one who kissed me.
Dean cleared his throat and threw his napkin on the table. "It doesn't matter who's challenging whom. You think I need to be 'released.' I'm curious. How do you intend to do such a thing, particularly given there is no hidden personality caged inside of me?" Dean raised his eyebrows.
Kelly raised her eyebrows back. If that was true, then why did he bring it up?
Brows still raised, Dean stood from the table. "Troy's hypnotic suggestion had nothing to do with the 'real me.'"
"No?" She recalled Dean making the point that at least a part of him had been involved.
Dean huffed a sigh. "I suppose you'll be dropping in on me today, or providing some other, equivalent distraction?"
"Mm."
A flicker of worry crossed Dean's face at this non-reply, but he soon retrieved his obnoxious smile. "Oh, good," he said. "A surprise."
The unholy condescension — ! Kelly felt her palm itch. She blinked, astonished at herself. She'd actually wanted to smack him.
At that moment Dean met her eyes squarely. Kelly's conquering high tripped on its way up to the clouds. He'd done that. He'd made her feel that way.
Out of control.
As Dean kept his eyes on Kelly, a gleam rose up in them. She could swear he'd come to the same realization she just had: that he had as much effect on her as she had on him.
"Good morning, then," Dean said. Like a man who'd accomplished his goal, he smiled, inclined his head, and walked out of the room.
Silence followed his departure, a silence broken only by the sound of Dean's footsteps receding down the hall. Robby waited until the footsteps could no longer be heard, then moved his cereal bowl aside. "So, what're you going to do, Kelly?"
"Yes." Troy sounded curious, too. "What now?"
Kelly absently massaged her palm. Huh. Like she was going to tell the two of them, assuming she had the foggiest idea. Besides, she was still shook up. This war was not going to be one-sided. Dean had his defenses; strong, wickedly intelligent defenses. She was going to have to respect that, to respect him.
"You could win me my bet," Troy suggested.
"Leave him?" Kelly frowned.
Troy grinned. "I take it that's a 'no'?"
"It would hardly accomplish what I'm after."
Troy rubbed his chin. "No, I guess not." He stopped rubbing and looked at Kelly. "For the record, I'm not a fan of you leaving."
Kelly's attention went from distracted to arrested. "You aren't?"
Troy's smile quirked. "Like I said before, you distract Dean. Plus — " His grin went wide. "I happen to like you."
Kelly's eyebrows shot up. Was that so? She switched her gaze to Robby. He wore much the same expression as Troy, restrained hope. Kelly felt a leap of her own hope. Well, what do you know? She had a pair of allies here. Or at least...sympathetic bystanders. She smiled. "Okay, then. We're all on the same page."
"What?" Robby asked.
"She means we all agree," Troy explained, but squinted at Kelly. "Though I'm not sure we do. I want you to stay, Kelly, but I don't think you can change Dean."
"Not change him." Kelly tsked. "Release him."
"Uh huh," Troy said, and squinted even harder. Robby bent on Kelly a very similar expression, one of confusion and concern.
"What?" Kelly asked.
"Nothin'," Robby claimed.
"Oh, not a thing," Troy agreed.
But they both kept looking at Kelly in a most peculiar manner until she got up from the table and, still wondering how to get at the real Dean, left the room.
###
Kelly did not surprise Dean at the office that Sunday. Alone on the executive floor, he found his concentration slipping. He kept expecting a call from the guard downstairs or a knock on the hall door. It never happened.
At the office, he ordered a salad for dinner, then went home about eleven p.m. He braced himself as he walked the path from the garage to the house. But no curvy female jumped out of the bushes. Except for the crickets, all was quiet along the country path.
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 h
e 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.