And, indeed, Troy now heaved a deep sigh. "I do want something."
Dean resigned himself to a beg for a couple thousand dollars as Troy ambled toward the desk.
"I want somebody to tell me what's wrong with me." Troy's voice went whimsical. "I'm actually here to lecture you."
Dean glanced up sharply.
"Now don't jump all over me." Troy hitched a hip on the edge of Dean's desk. "You know you deserve one."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Come on, Dean. You haven't told her the truth, have you?"
Dean raised a brow. "The truth?" Surely Troy didn't expect him to tell Kelly what he really thought of her just then, which was pure dirt.
Troy sighed. "The hypnosis, Dean. You haven't told her the truth about the hypnosis."
Oh, that. Dean lowered his brow. He sat down and opened a desk drawer. "Of course I told her. She knows I was acting under hypnotic suggestion when I met and married her. That's why she's here."
"But she doesn't know what the hypnotic suggestion was."
Dean frowned at the contents of the drawer. "So?"
"So?" Troy straightened off the desk. "So?"
"She doesn't need to know."
Troy's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Like hell she doesn't! She thinks you were tricked into marrying her."
"I was."
"Bull."
Slowly, Dean stood up. Troy was off base here, completely off base. That had to be why Dean's heart was galloping. "She doesn't know anything about hypnosis. She would misunderstand."
"Or maybe understand all too well." Troy set his palms on Dean's desk. "You wanted to marry her."
Dean clenched his jaw and placed his palms opposite Troy's. "I wanted to have sex with her."
"You did both."
"Yes," Dean hissed. "Because I couldn't get the one without the other."
That gave Troy pause. His eyes narrowed. "I told you to do what you wanted, instead of what you should. You wouldn't have married her unless you'd wanted to."
Dean snorted. "Sure I wanted to — that night."
The two men's gazes locked. Dean's breathing wasn't as steady as he'd have liked. He hated what he'd done, the stupidity and impetuousness, and now he had to stand here and confess it all to Troy. But that was better than having anyone think he'd wanted this marriage, for God's sake.
Slowly, Troy straightened. His expression turned quizzical. "You're telling me the marriage was only a means to an end?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Elementary, my dear Watson."
"But — "
"Troy. Do I share a single interest or value with this woman?"
"But — "
"Do I?"
Troy's brows tangled. He didn't bother trying to answer Dean's question. "Only a means to an end. You're saying you were considering divorce, even as you were pronouncing vows?"
"No." Dean wasn't ready to condemn himself that far. "I'm saying I wasn't thinking about the consequences. I wasn't thinking about anything but what I wanted at that moment." Namely, sex. Completely uninhibited sex. Dean didn't have to remember to figure out that much.
"Oh." Troy's frown eased. "You mean, you were acting like the rest of us."
Dean looked away. "Not all men are completely irresponsible."
"No, just the ones in our family." Troy laughed.
Dean's jaw set. "I don't intend to carry on that tradition." And so far in his life, he hadn't. He had a trust fund, too, but that hadn't kept him from making his own way in the world. He'd worked hard about things that mattered. Last year the FDA had approved a drug for multiple sclerosis that his company had developed.
But Troy was still smirking. "Mm hm. You're responsible, straight and narrow — which is why you choose to conceal the truth about the hypnosis from your wife."
Dean's teeth crunched together. "It's not concealment."
"Then what would you call it?"
"I'd call it — intelligence. Kelly came home with me for one purpose only: to find out 'who I am.'"
"And — ?"
"And — I don't want the waters muddied with some fantasy I'm something I am not."
"Uh huh."
Dean only barely kept himself from slapping his palms on his desk. "I don't want her to create a fantasy of something I am not, and never could be. Or even want to be." Love, she had said.
When hell froze over.
But Troy's brows arched. "It's rather unclear, though, exactly what you want to be."
Dean glared at him. "Not in the least — to me. But apparently it's unclear to you, and very probably would be to her. Please realize she's already confused by how I behaved for two days — behavior I can't even remember!"
Troy's amusement sobered. "Another mystery," he murmured. "I didn't suggest for you to forget."
The men's eyes locked again. A feeling like panic crept up Dean's throat. It was a mystery, indeed. How could he walk out of a donut shop and suddenly realize he didn't know what city he was in, how he'd gotten there, or how long it had been since he'd patted Robby on the head and wished him better luck next time? How could that happen?
"Well, I did forget," Dean said now, his voice carefully controlled. "Probably because I didn't want to remember. It was all too embarrassing."
Troy raised his brows. "Or too much fun."
Dean's throat felt even tighter. "Sure." He closed his eyes. "Fun."
###
Well.
Troy walked out of Dean's study and into the quiet hall feeling as if he were stepping out of an alternate universe. Dean had stood behind his big desk playing the part of the defendant — for the first time ever. And in arguing for the defense — to Troy, of all people — he'd blatantly bent his hitherto iron-clad integrity.
Troy rubbed a hand over his eyes. What was the world coming to? Dean was lying, and Troy, well — he felt as beat as if he'd spent all night at one of his friends' unbridled parties. In actuality, he'd spent the night looking for that little brat, Robby — terrified he'd actually lost him this time. He'd been acting almost responsible.
Egads.
Troy yawned and made for the wide, carpeted stairway at the end of the hall. Well, he'd had more than enough of being responsible. Right now his bed was calling. Loudly. Thank goodness it turned out he didn't need to feel responsible for that Kelly woman, too. No, she looked like she could hold her own. Troy felt a grin spread over his tired face as he trudged up the stairs. Yeah, she looked like she could take Dean. Troy would be willing to bet she'd have his cousin all wrapped up in a nice little divorce settlement before you could say 'boo.'
Which meant that Dean was, indeed, turning out to be a prime example of Singleton male.
Troy was still smiling sappily as he swung open the door to his bedroom, a bedroom he'd slid into fifteen years ago when no one had been paying much attention and in which he'd squatted ever since. The curtains, rugs and furnishings had been chosen by some long-ago housekeeper in varying shades of brown, purple, and gold. Troy had no actual ownership of the bedroom, which was fine by him. Owning things required work. Troy never worked if he could help it.
He yawned again, and as he pulled his Cashmere sweater over his head he thought about the tennis match he was missing by crawling back into bed. Thinking about tennis led to thinking about the Club, and thinking about the Club led to thinking about Felicia, not that Troy spent much time thinking about the five foot seven, svelte, blond and blue-blooded, twenty-eight-year-old Felicia Thurgood. No, not much time at all.
Troy dropped to a seat on the thick counterpane of the bed and toed off his shoes. Felicia, Felicia, Felicia...so much female glory encasing so much female warrior. The formidable woman had had Dean in her matrimonial sights for years. So when Dean had called Troy that second time to say that he was bringing his wife home with him, after all, Troy had immediately wondered how Felicia would take the news.
But now that Troy had seen Kelly, he wondered if Felicia was ev
en going to find out about the marriage. The whole thing might be over and done with before the rumor mill got a chance to sink its teeth into it.
Instead of standing up again to take off his pants, Troy simply fell back onto the bed. With his arms resting above his head on the bed, he gazed at the coved ceiling. It would certainly be more merciful if Felicia never discovered Dean's utter perfidy in selecting a mate other than her perfect self, but Troy couldn't say it would be more...entertaining.
Troy's eyes closed and he smiled. Entertaining, yes. He'd dearly love to be a fly on the wall.
All of Felicia's commendable and upstanding expectations — trashed. She, the high and mighty, would be brought down low. She'd be so low she might even fall down to Troy's level. Oh, yes, if she ever did find out Dean was married...
To a Las Vegas dancer!
Still wearing both the smile and his pants, Troy fell asleep.
###
An hour after the rescue in the forest, Kelly was still alone in the morning room. She leaned her head on one hand and tapped her fingers on the polished sheen of the dining table. She'd long since consumed a plate of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and hash browns — all complete no-no's in her usual diet — and then washed the whole criminal feast down with some excellent Colombian coffee.
Discipline, at least for her diet, was usually strong, but she'd gotten thrown way off balance. Had she or hadn't she seen 'her' Dean out there in the woods? One minute she'd been so sure, the next she had to wonder if she hadn't made the whole thing up. Yes, made it up out of a pathetic wish that she could have seen him.
Because, darn it, she missed 'her' Dean.
At the table, Kelly sighed. Who wouldn't miss that slow smile, that easy drawl — and okay, she'd be honest — the great sex? More than anything, though, she missed how he'd liked her.
And for an instant there, a brief blink of time coming out of the tree house, she'd thought she'd seen him.
Kelly's fingers abruptly halted their dance on the table top. She turned.
Dean stood in the archway to the hall. He looked showered, freshly shaved, and was wearing a different Italian suit from the one he'd worn on the plane.
Kelly's heart staggered. He was that handsome. Admittedly, he was handsome in a vastly different way from the man she'd married. The fellow who stood before her was cool, collected, and quietly powerful. 'Her' Dean was definitely not looking out of this man's eyes. His gaze was as cold and remote as the North Pole.
He nodded toward the empty dishes on the table. "I trust your breakfast was satisfactory?"
Kelly cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah. It was great."
"Good. You'll find lunch in this room as well, but dinner is in the dining room. We dress."
"Oh, hey, I'm very glad to hear it."
He shot her a sharp look. Kelly didn't know whether to be amused or insulted that it seemed to take him a full minute to realize she was joking. "Yes, well." He smoothed his tie. "In any event, I came to say goodbye, and to tell you that if you need anything, ask Maggie. She's the housekeeper."
"Goodbye?" Kelly startled upright. "You're leaving?" But of course he was leaving. He was all dressed up in a suit and tie and there was a building in downtown Boston with his name at the top of it. She shook her head. "Sorry. I suppose you've got a million things to do."
"Yes, well, perhaps not a million, but my presence is required."
Kelly nodded, wondering why she felt let down. Surely she hadn't expected, or wanted, him to dance attendance on her.
"So." Dean inclined his head. "If you'll excuse me?"
Kelly bit her lower lip. Yes, he had to leave, but on the other hand, they needed to get the getting-to-know-him business out of the way. And there was one thing she very much wanted to know. "You have time for one question?"
Dean halted his retreat in progress. Turning halfway around, he raised his eyebrows.
"Uh...how did a nine-year-old boy manage to hypnotize you?"
Dean went very still. "He told you."
Kelly huffed. "What do you think we were discussing in the tree house, the weather? So, how did it happen?"
Dean tapped a thumb against his thigh. "It was an accident, as I already explained to you."
"An accident?"
Dean's thumb kept tapping. "Robby was doing a science project, to make up for missing school. I didn't want to discourage his initiative."
"A science project," Kelly repeated. "You mean he just got this out of a book or something?"
"Mm. And I was his 'test subject.' Nobody expected I would actually go under." His lashes lowered. "It just...happened."
Kelly could only stare at him, more baffled than ever. Robby was just a kid, and a kid who'd only been fooling around, for heaven's sake.
Dean waved a hand. "An accident."
"Yes," Kelly said. "I believe you." It certainly hadn't happened on purpose. But how had it even happened by accident? Dean didn't seem like he'd easily fall under the influence of anything, much less a nine-year-old horsing around. If he'd fallen into a trance, a deep one, it could only have been because on some level, deep down...he'd wanted to.
But why would he want that?
Kelly frowned, trying to puzzle it out. Meanwhile, Dean took a step back. "About Robby," he said. "Since you bring up the subject."
Kelly blinked.
"You're only going to be here for two months." Dean's jaw tightened. "Leave him alone."
The words were so unexpected that it took Kelly a moment to understand. Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
Dean's gaze was cool. "You'll only hurt him."
"Excuse me?" Kelly said again, louder.
"You know you will." Dean said this as if it were a foregone conclusion. "Stepmothers — Anyway, you'll be gone in two months."
"I will?" queried Kelly, and hastily changed her question to a statement. "Oh, yeah, you bet I will." She'd be gone in two months — or less. "But so what?"
"So what?" He appeared nonplussed.
"As if that has anything to do with — " Kelly rose to her feet. He'd accepted her two-month deal, only to inform her now that the outcome was predetermined. And he topped it off with this insult. "It would hurt Robby more if I ignored him." Indeed, how could she ignore that needy child?
"No." Dean gave a sharp shake of the head. "With all due respect, I know more about this type of situation than you do."
"You do." Oh, yeah, he was the big expert. His clear thinking about children led to Robby running away on a regular basis.
"I do," Dean insisted. "Furthermore, Robby is my responsibility, at least for the moment. So I would appreciate it if you would — "
"If I would use my own good judgment in the matter." Yes, he understood children, the man whose first words to Robby had been, "you're filthy." The man who she now realized was responsible for Robby not coming to join her for breakfast.
"I mean — "
"Yes," Kelly bit out. "I know what you mean." He thought she was completely insensitive, an idiot.
Dean's eyes narrowed. Kelly met his gaze directly. He'd done it, made her angry, and she didn't mind if he saw it, the jerk. He assumed she couldn't figure out how to behave toward Robby. Who did he think she was?
They stared at each other, the air practically crackling between them. Despite his utter wrongness here, he projected power with his gaze, and surrounded himself with an aura of inner strength. Facing him, Kelly felt her own strength hum in response, felt a novel exhilaration. Typically she backed down in the face of male anger, but not with Dean, not with the most powerful man she'd ever met. Against him she stood strong; heart pounding, nostrils flaring, blood tingling...
And turned on, she realized suddenly. Passionately so.
Kelly stopped breathing. In the middle of this nasty dispute she was feeling...sexual? But she couldn't deny it. Heat was flooding all her interesting parts.
She saw Dean swallow, saw his eyes darken, which told her he was feeling it, to
o. Something dangerous and unexpected.
This was too weird. And yet, Kelly couldn't look away from him. No, she just kept looking into his intense blue eyes, feeling angry and...sexual.
Finally, he took a big step back. "I'll...tell Maggie to put your things in the Lilac Suite."
Kelly didn't have to ask to know the Lilac Suite would be at the opposite end of the house from his own bedroom. "Yes," she murmured, "you do that."
But he turned on his way out the door. "About Robby," he said softly. "Don't cross me."
Kelly thought it best not to attempt a reply.
CHAPTER SIX
"No, no I understand. Thank you." Carefully, not to indulge any of the frustration he felt, Dean set down the telephone he'd been using at his downtown office desk. It was already May, he'd just been told, too late in the semester to enroll a new student.
Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. He should have started this process a week-and-a-half ago, when Robby had first dropped on his doorstep, but he'd resisted being the one stuck with the task.
Now...? Well, all morning he'd been hearing variations on the same theme: too late in the semester, Robby's grades not up to par, the obstacle of a good recommendation from his last school, and so on and so forth.
Dean leaned back in his chair. It seemed his half-brother had burned his bridges when it came to decent boarding schools. That was a problem in more ways than one. Not only was Robby missing out on some much-needed education, but Dean couldn't get him out of harm's way.
Instead the kid was stuck at home, stuck in the same house with that woman.
A helpless snort escaped Dean. Hell, he was stuck in the same house with her. In his own way, he was in just as great danger as Robby. Dean pushed out of his chair. He paced across the scrupulously white carpet toward the windows where downtown Boston stirred beneath him.
He barely noticed the city bustle, pondering instead his reaction to his wife. Whenever he was around her, something like a drug shot through his system, arousing his body and scattering his brain cells. He couldn't think straight when near her.