Marriage by Mistake

feel better about Kelly."
    Dean closed his eyes. The terrible pain swept back again, and this time it wasn't from Troy's fist. "Then what is?"
    Troy didn't say anything. When Dean opened his eyes, he saw his cousin's lips were pressed tightly together.
    "What?" Dean demanded.
    Troy shook his head, as if he refused to say, but then blurted, "Maybe I should try to hypnotize you again."
    Dean stared at him.
    "Give you the same suggestion." Troy looked steadily into Dean's eyes. "Do what you want instead of what you should."
    Dean just kept staring. But a shiver passed through him. He knew what he wanted to do...and it was crazy, illogical. What would it accomplish? Feelings didn't last—and hers were over. She was done with him.
    But there was something in Troy's eyes, a...fellowship that made it hard for Dean to disguise his thoughts. Slowly, just slightly, Troy smiled. "Ah, but I don't need to hypnotize you. You already know what you want to do."
    "But—it wouldn't make any sense to see Kelly."
    Troy's brows lifted. "You think?"
    Yes, yes of course Dean thought so. Kelly was done with him. She'd gone so far as to leave him, just as he'd always thought she would. She didn't want to see him.
    Or was that true? Dean put a hand up to his temple. That blow to his head must have been worse than he'd thought because suddenly he was remembering his last conversation with Kelly.
    He'd been trying his best to forget it, but now one moment of that horrible conversation stood out clear in his mind. Kelly had stood there, waiting. She'd looked at Dean with such...expectation. Yes, she'd looked at him as if there'd been something Dean could have said or done that would have kept her with him...
    Slumped on the gym mat, Dean frowned. No, that was ridiculous. There was nothing he could do to keep a woman with him if she wanted to leave. And Kelly had wanted to leave.
    Hadn't she?
    He felt an abrupt wrenching of the gut. What had that strange moment of her looking at him been about? Had there been something he could have done to keep her? Had she wanted to stay?
    Dean rubbed his forehead. Hope wrestled with pain, but neither was stronger than a new and burning set of questions. For the first time in two weeks Dean wondered what Kelly was thinking, what she was feeling. Had he hurt her that day?
    Was that why she'd left?
    Was she miserable, too?
    Dean felt another wrench in his gut. Oh, God, had he made Kelly unhappy? If that were true— His gaze shot up to Troy. "I have to go see her."
    "Well, yeah." Troy sat back on his heels. "I was wondering when you'd figure that out."
    "Now," Dean said.
    "Almost now," Troy countered, smiling strangely. "First you gotta pay me that twenty grand."

    CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

    It had been a hectic day for Felicia, one board meeting after another. She'd been juggling budgets that were too small, and smoothing feathers that were constantly getting ruffled. By nine p.m. she was ready for a long soak in the tub and the rest of the evening spent curled in her bedroom armchair with a good book.
    Her mother was out at her bridge night, which was a mixed blessing because when the doorbell rang it was up to Felicia to deal with it. Giving a longing look toward her armchair—she hadn't had time to open her book—she started down the stairs.
    She soon saw she'd interrupted her pleasure for nothing. Murchison, the butler, was still up. He was opening the front door just as Felicia, in a pink sweat suit, was descending the staircase. But she halted, dumbstruck, when she saw the face beyond Murchison's heavy-set shoulder.
    Troy? Troy, grinning from ear to ear? Troy, who, with his sparkling eyes and flashing teeth couldn't be looking more wildly different than the mocking, distant man she'd last seen a week ago at the Club? Indeed, he was mercurial, unpredictable, and erratic.
    "Troy," she said, in as dampening a tone as possible.
    Troy ignored her tone. His reply was as warm and engaging as hers had been distant. "Felicia," he said. "You look...great. Say, can we talk?"
    Good God. Felicia didn't want to talk to Troy. But Murchison had apparently decided Felicia's greeting of the man constituted acceptance of his presence in the house. "Miss Thurgood," he mumbled, and marched off. Felicia was left to contend with Troy who, still grinning, had waltzed into the front foyer. He stood there, his hands dug into his trouser pockets, gazing at Felicia with all the bonhomie in the world.
    "So?" he asked. "Can