Marriage by Mistake

crossed her arms tightly. She glared at a painting of a beach. "What a thing to have to tell a rank stranger."
    They both stopped. A heavy silence descended on the room. As she stared at the beach, Kelly felt a prickling all over her skin. Slowly, she turned.
    He was watching her, very alert. Waiting.
    Kelly's heart started pounding. Was it possible—? Could he actually—? That is, she'd considered the scenario for half an instant here and there, but could it actually be true? Was he a rank stranger, someone who didn't remember meeting her...or anything?
    Kelly swallowed. She didn't want to believe it. It was too outrageous. It smelled like getting bamboozled again. She cleared her throat, intending to tell him she wasn't fooled when, even as she looked at him, he transformed.
    Not physically. No, physically he was the Dean she remembered; dark hair, wavy, left a little too long, blue eyes like a midnight sea, body like a panther. But behind the eyes—
    Behind the eyes was someone she'd never met before, herself.
    Kelly had to think in order to breathe. Her knees felt shaky. "Oh," she said. "Oh."
    The new man, the stranger, got to his feet. "There is one other document. Would you, please?" He indicated the sofa with his hand.
    Kelly shifted her gaze to the sofa but didn't dare move. She tried to go back to skeptical mode, but it wouldn't work. He wouldn't be the other man again, the one she knew. He was...somebody else. Somebody who'd been hypnotized, who didn't even remember meeting her, let alone remember falling in love.
    Apparently giving up on the idea she would sit, he plucked up something from his briefcase. It was a tiny piece of paper, only about an inch square and soiled, as by kitchen oil. He held it out to her.
    The insistence in his gaze finally made Kelly move. She took a step, close enough to see he was holding a receipt. "Duncan's Donuts," she read aloud. The prickling sensation returned, sweeping over her tenfold.
    "Does that mean anything to you?"
    Kelly could feel a bubble of hysteria inside. "You got the donuts."
    "I was holding a bag of them when I 'woke up.' For you, I presume. I never eat such things, myself."
    The bubble of hysteria inside Kelly expanded. She started to laugh. "But you were the one who noticed the store, who wanted them—" She stopped. Biting her lip, she looked at him, looked at the man behind the eyes. "No," she corrected. "That wasn't you ." Kelly felt a chill replace her hysteria. "Was it?"
    He turned. Delicately, he returned the little piece of paper to his briefcase. "Miss Williams, I can only repeat my heartfelt apology that you got mixed up in this...little accident of mine. The hypnosis—well, I never actually expected to go under, and then my cousin Troy had to get in on the act with his amusing 'suggestions.'"
    "Suggestions." Kelly's chill grew. She'd seen men, dignified, elderly men, bark like dogs under the suggestion of a stage hypnotist. She could make the logical deduction. "In real life you wouldn't have done any of it, what we did together. You wouldn't have given me the time of day to begin with."
    He didn't say a word. He just looked at her, looked at her with cool, unfamiliar eyes.
    Kelly whirled. A part of her wanted to laugh. Here it was, the magical explanation she'd been hoping for. Dean hadn't abandoned her, after all. He'd even bought the donuts.
    Yes, he'd bought them, and then vanished into thin air. Her easy-going, sweet and charming Dean Singleton didn't even exist!
    "Miss Williams."
    Kelly clenched her fingers on her upper arms. Inside she was reeling. This wasn't the man she'd met Friday night. Of course, she'd already seen as much in Boston. Her Dean was blue jeans and tee shirts. This man was English wool and silk. Her Dean smiled. This man looked like he hadn't cracked a grin in the past ten years.
    She'd seen it, she just hadn't wanted to believe it.
    "Miss Williams," he asked. "Are you all right?"
    The question was both ludicrous, and valid. She gave a soft laugh. "Sure, sure. I'm all right." She was just peachy. It was no big deal to discover the man she'd fallen in love with didn't even exist in real life.
    Instead he was an illusion, a dream, 'suggested' into being by this no-good cousin Troy.
    Her fingertips dug into her sweat jacket sleeves. She was used to falling in love with an illusion, the pretty picture of the guy she'd paint in her mind, but this was ridiculous.
    She sensed the other man, the real one, take a step in her