Five minutes before the dinner hour, Dean drove his Lexus into the estate's multi-car garage and rehearsed the set-down he intended to give Kelly. But as he got out of his car, he wondered if he was over-reacting. Robby had spent enough time with his father to have discovered for himself the disappointing nature of stepmothers.
On the other hand, there was something about Kelly that invited a person to believe she was different from all the rest. Something...well, inviting.
As the automatic garage door closed behind him, Dean shook his head. The woman was a menace. She had to be stopped. That was all there was to it.
Approaching the house from the side, Dean used his normal route in of an evening, through the kitchen.
Roberto, the cook, was alone in the room. He spoke before Dean could attempt a greeting. "It's what they said they wanted."
"Excuse me?"
"Hamburgers with French fries. It's what they said they wanted." Roberto turned to slap his spatula on the stove.
The cook apparently wanted exoneration. "Hamburgers are fine," Dean said. Who cared what was being served? What he needed was something to ease the nerves tightening his stomach. He was going to see her. She was going to do that thing she did to him — to his hormones, that was.
Determined to overcome his unruly nature, Dean spent another moment in the kitchen, straightening his lapels and taking in a deep breath. Then he pushed through the swing door to the formal dining room.
The room was empty. But Dean heard the sound of laughter and a boy's chatter. If he wasn't mistaken, Troy's tenor was involved, too.
Outside.
Frowning, Dean went to the French doors of the dining room and pulled them open. On the stone walkway that abutted the house, a wrought-iron table had been set for dinner. Kelly, Robby, and Troy, all wearing shorts and T shirts, sat around it in animated discussion.
So much for dressing for dinner. In the span of four short days Kelly had dispensed with that family tradition.
Dean felt his righteousness return. And then his eyes met hers. Righteousness departed as his heart took a drop, and then sped.
Dean lifted his chin. "Good evening, everyone."
Troy and Robby turned to look at him then, and Dean heard how stilted he'd sounded, particularly compared to the casual style of conversation he'd interrupted. Kelly reacted first, a wide smile spreading over her face. Laughing at him, no doubt.
"Hi, yourself!" she said. "Are you hungry?"
He stared at her. Her legs were bare and long, and she wore something soft and drapy on top. Then, hamburgers, he realized. She was talking about hamburgers. His face warmed. "No, I...ate on the way home from the office."
"Too bad." Robby reached to grab a handful of fries. "This is way better than the grub Roberto usually fixes."
Before Dean could reply, Kelly tapped the back of Robby's hand. "Enough carbos there, my friend. Have a carrot peel."
Dean saw Robby's expression change and braced himself for the boy's nasty retort. Instead, turning utterly complacent, Robby plucked up a carrot peel.
Dean blinked. He knew Robby made an effort to control himself when he was living with his big brother, but this was something else again.
"Well, pull up a chair, anyway," Kelly offered.
Dean hesitated, still wondering about Robby's behavior. It reminded him that he wasn't here to socialize. Hardly. At the same time, he couldn't chew Kelly out right in front of everyone. So he shrugged and walked up to their happy table. Trying not to seem too awkward, he lowered into one of the wrought iron chairs.
Kelly crunched down on a lettuce leaf. "We were just talking about what to do over the weekend."
"Is that right?"
"Oh, we understand that you'll be working, of course." Troy hooded his eyes at Dean.
Dean hooded his eyes back at Troy. "A fair assumption. I usually do work on the weekends — unlike somebody else I know, who doesn't work any day of the week."
Immediately, Dean was stunned by his own words. He never goaded Troy about his lack of employment. For one thing, it never worked. Troy would merely laugh and toss back some flippant reply.
Today, however, a dusky color crossed Troy's face. As if he actually cared. He dropped his gaze to pluck up his own carrot peel. "Ah, now I wonder who that worthless fellow could be?" Despite his faint blush, Troy was grinning again when he lifted his eyes to meet Dean's.
Dean frowned. Despite the grin, he could swear Troy was embarrassed.
"Yes, we know Dean will be working," Kelly spoke up. Her smile was wry. "We've gotten to know you that well, anyway."
Dean looked at his wife. She smiled back at him with too much innocence, meanwhile crunching down on another lettuce leaf.
Troy coughed, hiding a smile.
Apparently indifferent to this byplay, Robby interjected, "I liked the park. We could do that again."
"The park?" So that's where Kelly had taken the kid. Maggie hadn't mentioned specifics.
"Basketball." Robby gestured a hook shot. "Those guys were all right."
"Normal children," Kelly murmured, not quite under her breath. "Living in normal houses."
Troy did his best to suppress another cough, or perhaps it was a snicker. In any event, Robby went on, enthusiastic. "And Kelly, she's got quite a jump shot. You should have seen her, Dean. Whammo! She knocked their eyes out."
Dean could well imagine she'd done exactly that. He frowned meaningfully at Kelly. "It sounds like you two had quite a day together."
"Yup." Robby nodded vigorously. "We did."
But Dean kept his gaze on Kelly. She was supposed to have used her 'good judgment.' She was supposed to have listened to him, dammit, and left the boy alone.
Kelly had the gall to smile sweetly. "You shoulda been there."
"Indeed, I think I should have been." He sent her another killing glance, but she remained complacent.
"Maybe next time," she said, as if there would ever be such a thing. "Hey, we bought watermelon for dessert." She smiled directly at Dean. "Want some?"
Despite his acute annoyance with her, a bolt of heat shot through him. Want some of what? His body posed the question, lascivious, before his brain caught up. She was talking about watermelon.
"No?" Kelly queried.
"No," Dean replied, then added a reluctant, "Thank you." He pushed up from his chair. "I would appreciate a few minutes of your time, Kelly, when you've finished dinner. I'll be in the study."
"Sure, Dean." She plucked up another leaf of lettuce. "I have nothing but time these days."
###
Kelly knew Dean was furious. She also knew she hadn't done anything wrong, or at least not much wrong. How could it be wrong to give Robby some much-needed attention, to get him out of the house and playing with other boys? Nevertheless, she dawdled at the outdoor table as long as she possibly could. She waited until the watermelon had been eaten to the green. She waited until Robby, himself, decided it was time for a bath. She was waiting for Troy to leave, too, but instead he arched a brow and leaned over the wrought iron table.
"You aren't afraid of him, are you?"
Kelly shot him a glare. "Who, me? Afraid?"
Troy's smile broadened.
Kelly crushed her teeth together. "I think it's you who's afraid of him."
"Oh, absolutely." Troy had no problem confessing. "I was afraid of Dean even before I had to attend the same school with him and live up to — or fail to live up to — his example." He laughed. "And it's only gotten worse as I sink lower and lower to my true level."
Troy was smiling, but his little laugh hadn't sounded happy. Kelly suddenly wondered what might be going on at Troy's "true level." Before she could ask, he laughed again, in a tone more like his carefree self.
"But recently I've been able to relax." He grinned. "Seeing that Dean's got you in his sights, instead."
Kelly went from worried about Troy to scowling at him. "For heaven's sake, Dean doesn't have anybody 'in hi
s sights.'"
"No? A few minutes ago I could swear I saw his finger on the trigger." Troy was still grinning as he got up from his chair. "Have fun."
Huh. Kelly remained at the patio table as Troy walked away. She didn't believe Dean had his finger on the trigger, or at least she wasn't afraid of that. She was afraid because the mere sight of Dean coming out to the patio had...stirred her so. She'd felt her heart beating and her lungs struggling for air. Sexual, again.
It made no sense. The man had been avoiding her, he looked down on her, but that didn't seem to matter. Her body kept acting like he was the tender, loving friend she'd made beside a casino slot machine. No, worse than that. Her body acted like this fellow would do just as well as the other — if not better.
The sun was starting to descend into the tops of the trees. Kelly shook her head and pushed out of the chair. Friend or foe, it was time to face him down.
###
At the desk in his study, Dean sifted through his papers, not really seeing any of them. All he could think was: you asked her in here, to be alone with you, you idiot. What were you thinking?
Dean slapped his hand down on a perfectly well-conceived business plan. He was thinking about Robby, that's what he was thinking. Robby was the reason he'd asked Kelly into his study for a good talking-to. She was going to break the child's heart, carelessly, recklessly. Dean wasn't about to stand around and let that happen.
Dean stared at his hand on the desk. It occurred to him that Kelly might not intend to do wrong. She might sincerely want to be kind. Tapping his thumb on the papers, Dean discarded the idea as irrelevant. No matter her intentions, in this case it was not kind to be, well, kind. In fact, kindness could be the worst sort of cruelty. He had to get that through to her.
The door cracked open. Kelly's face peeked round the jamb. "You wanted to see me?"
Dean let out a long, slow breath. His skin heated at her mere presence. He had to struggle to recover his equanimity as he stood. "Yes, please come in."
She slipped through the doorway cautiously, gracefully, like a deer. Her gaze swept the papers set in piles all over his desk. "I don't even know your job title. President, CEO?"
"Chairman of the Board." Of several boards, in fact, but even the one sounded pompous, suddenly.
"Family business?" She tilted her head.
Dean paused. "You could say." He'd founded the genetics research company himself, then added to it by the judicious merging with innovative competitors. He didn't feel like explaining the lone nature of the enterprise to Kelly, however. He was part of a family, wasn't he? So that made his business a family business, even if no other member of his family had ever had anything to do with it. "Please," he ordered. "Have a seat."
She thought about it, then moved toward the chairs. Intellectually, Dean understood the discipline it took to create her sinuous stride. Viscerally, he wanted to stop that stride and pull her under him onto the Aubusson rug.
Lord. He fought to bring his body under control. Robby, he reminded himself. His brother's welfare. That was his purpose here. Nothing else.
Kelly halted and rested her hands on the back of one of the brocade chairs. "I know why you called this little meeting," she admitted, "and I don't blame you one bit."
Dean raised his brows. She was going to make this easy for him?
"It's time we stopped fooling around here," she said.
"Excuse me?"
"We have less than two months now." She strolled around the armchair. "Clearly, you're a busy man, but you're going to have to find some sort of slot to fit me into your tight schedule."
Dean went very still. A slot to fit her in?
She was directly in front of his desk now, close enough to bang her thighs against it. "I need to get to know you," she said.
Dean's brain went cock-eyed. She needed to get to know him? Only by looking at her face and seeing the utter sobriety there, did her real meaning penetrate.
She needed to get to know him, him as opposed to the man she'd married. This had been her avowed goal as his temporary wife. He wanted to talk about Robby, he needed to talk about Robby, but...she had a point.
"Well?" She crossed her arms.
Dean raised his chin. "Of course. You do need evidence if you are to reach any conclusions. I understand that." But damned if he wanted to spend ten minutes in her company.
On the other hand, he had to spend time in her company. Implicitly, he'd given his word. Flustered, Dean heard himself blurt, "What about the opera? Saturday night."
She stopped her gentle banging against his desk. "What?"
'What,' indeed. It was a ridiculous idea. But Dean had gone too far to turn back. He adopted a lofty tone. "Come with me to the opera on Saturday night. A date. That is the conventional means by which couples get to know one another, is it not?"
"A date," she murmured.
A date at the opera. He was an idiot. Yes, he had tickets for the special benefit performance Saturday evening, but he'd planned to forego them. His showgirl wife would hardly appreciate La Bohème, and in his present circumstances he could hardly invite somebody more suitable.
"The opera," Kelly went on, speaking louder. One corner of her mouth curved thoughtfully. "Sounds...great!"
"It does?"
"That's a whole evening, right? Dinner, the show, at least three, four hours?"
"Closer to five." Dean was regretting his impulsive invitation more by the second. It would be five hours of temptation, five hours of physical affliction.
On the other hand, maybe a date with his wife would be a means to extinguish this inappropriate lust, once and for all. Seen against the backdrop of his real life she would have to look less attractive... Wouldn't she?
"Five hours," Kelly breathed. For an instant Dean thought she turned uncertain, too, but that had to be his imagination. What would she have to be uncertain about?
And, indeed, she gave a decisive nod. "Saturday night," she said. "It's a date."
###
A date with her husband. It had to be the worst idea in the world, Kelly decided. Why? For one thing, she didn't have a thing to wear.
Kelly stood inside the Olympic-size walk-in closet of her bedroom suite on Saturday afternoon, her arms crossed over her chest and one hip locked. No, not a single, solitary thing hanging in that closet was appropriate to wear to the opera. Not that Kelly knew what was appropriate to wear to the opera, but she was certain she didn't have it. And it was too late to go shopping. Besides, she needed to save her money, not working for two months.
Kelly scowled and fit one of her fingers between her teeth. All right, she wasn't worried about what she was going to wear; she could always figure out something. What had her all hot and bothered was being roped into this 'date' at all.
Five hours together with Dean Singleton.
Oh, it was her own fault. In Dean's study, knowing he wanted to blow up at her about Robby and not wanting to back down about her involvement with the kid, she'd reached wildly for some way, any way, to distract him.
So now they had to spend time together, five hours worth of time. Together.
Kelly let out a deep breath. Well? So? Wasn't it her goal here to spend time with Dean — 'this' Dean — to get to know who he was? She needed to put the question of this marriage firmly behind her.
But there was one small problem. Every time she saw Dean there was the heart beating, the blood rushing, and the sensation of butterflies in her stomach.
Worse, he was clearly hot for her right back. Meanwhile it was only becoming more and more clear how very wrong they were for each other. Their values, goals, and lifestyles were all at extreme odds.
Dean claimed that part of him was the man Kelly had met in Las Vegas, but she hadn't seen an ounce of evidence to support such a theory. He was cold, remote, and judgmental. And he'd been avoiding her ever since she'd moved in here.
Kelly lowered the finger she'd been gnawing and frowned. On the other hand, Robb
y had said things: about their absent father, about Dean's own youth spent shunted away in boarding schools, and about the endless stream of stepmothers. She could almost see why Dean behaved the way he did. He practically didn't have a choice. If no one had treated him with warmth, how could he know how to treat anyone else with warmth?
She'd noticed his abruptness when he'd met them out on the patio the other evening. It had been as if he'd wanted to join in, but had no idea how. As if, maybe, he were shy.
Kelly combed her hair back with one hand. Heck, maybe a part of 'her' Dean was inside there, trapped.
With her hand in her hair, Kelly halted. She blinked at the colorful her array of her clothes.
Whoa! No. Stop. Maybe Dean had suffered a lonely childhood, maybe no one had ever showed him they cared. Maybe that made him wall himself away, in self-defense.
But more likely he was just a cold fish.
Slowly, she finished combing her hand through her hair. She had a habit of making up virtuous qualities in a man to support her attraction. She couldn't do that this time. She had to keep her eyes open, her judgment clear.
She had to see the man for who he truly was, and not who she wished he would be.
'Her' Dean, trapped inside. Kelly shook her head at herself. Not likely. The real Dean was utterly self-contained, an island unto himself, and happy to be so. He wasn't needy. She'd see that crystal clear after spending five hours at the opera with him.
She pursed her lips and reached out to toy with a cerise silk number. That's right. She could get rid of her ridiculously romantic vision of 'Dean' trapped inside of Dean by the end of the evening. She'd see that her husband was not at all the man she had married.
Hmph. Kelly swept the cerise aside to pull a purple spandex miniskirt off the closet rack. So actually, this 'date' might not be such a bad idea, after all.
###
On a Saturday night Troy had any number of parties to choose from, the host of which would have been glad for his witty, charming presence.
On this Saturday evening he wasn't getting ready to go to a single one of them. He was sitting in Dean's formal dining room laying out solitaire hands. As he dealt the cards, he listened for the descent of Kelly from her bedroom. That scary interview of hers with Dean in the study had turned into a date.