Marriage by Mistake

through. Fortunately, she was too intent on the twisting drive to notice his attention. He could see her strain to see the lines of the house in the distance.
    When the place finally appeared through a break in the trees, her brows shot way up. She turned to him. " This is your house?"
    Dean stared at her. He could swear she was implying the place was deficient. With fifteen bedrooms, twenty bathrooms, and thirty thousand square feet of premium interior decoration, the house was hardly deficient in any way. At least, that's what Kirk's third wife had said, the one who'd needled Dean's father into tearing down the ancestral manse to build the place. "It's supposed to resemble a Roman villa," Dean informed Kelly stiffly.
    "Well, it doesn't."
    Dean was at a loss. Every one of his father's brides had gushed over the house. But Kelly looked at him with a trace of...pity?
    Dean's brows dove. Oh no, he wasn't going to take pity from the likes of her— Then a glance out the window told him it didn't matter what Kelly thought. Jackson was pulling into the circular drive before the front entrance. Dean was about to see the back of her, at least for the time being. Yes, in just a few minutes, with some well-placed commands to his staff, he would be quit of her.
    Dean was sure he'd regain his customary equilibrium once out of her presence.
    But as soon as he stepped out of the car, Dean knew it wasn't going to happen the way he'd planned. He squinted. "Where is everybody?"
    Jackson cleared his throat. Dean turned around, still squinting.
    "Ahem," Jackson said. "I was instructed not to alarm you, sir, before you got back home, but the child is missing. Again."
    Dean said nothing. He was too completely dismayed. It wasn't that Robby had taken off; the kid did that too often for panic. But he wasn't going to be able to deliver his set of well-thought-out orders. He wasn't going to be able to sink back into the car and depart from the woman now standing by his side, her hands on her hips.
    "Who?" she asked. "Who's missing?"
    Dean kept his gaze on Jackson. "Troy," he snapped. "Where is he?"
    Jackson coughed into his fist. "Uh, where you would expect, sir."
    "Who is missing?" Kelly asked again. But Dean wasn't paying any attention to her. Of course not. He'd barely addressed a word to her since they'd lifted off from Vegas. He'd kept his nose buried in his papers or his ear to his cell phone. Now he turned on his heel and started for the monster double doors set in the center of the monster house.
    Truly, it was the most hideous house Kelly had ever seen. Big, square, and blocky, it looked like a mausoleum. She couldn't believe he chose to live in this pile, but there he was making for the building. It must really be his. She spent half a second thinking about it, then hustled after him.
    What child was missing?
    As soon as she stepped in the front door, she had to stop. Open-mouthed, she turned in a circle. There was marble from here to everywhere and a rainforest of crystal falling from at least three stories above. Just like the limo: nice, if you were in a casino in Vegas, but a bit much for home sweet home. Kelly shook her head and looked around for Dean. He was moving fast down a carpeted hallway. She hurried after.
    Looking stern, Dean pushed open one of the many heavily paneled doors lining the hall. Kelly caught the edge of the door and slipped in after him.
    They were in a study, the furnishings heavy and dark. There was a huge desk at one end of the room, and a bar at the other. It was at the bar that an athletic-looking young man lounged. Dark hair fell onto his forehead and a highball rolled between his palms. To his credit, he didn't appear to have been drinking. The glass looked more a prop against anxiety.
    Dean came to a dead stop. Kelly nearly bumped into him. The young man looked up. "Ah," he drawled, "I see you've heard."
    Kelly could tell Dean was holding on to his control with the greatest of difficulty. But he was holding. When he spoke, his voice was calm.
    "One thing, Troy. I asked you to do one thing."
    The other man's nonchalance dimmed. "Don't blame me. Kid's a regular escape artist."
    "You said he was dogging your steps."
    "He was." Troy's gaze flitted to Kelly. "Which is how he must have heard you were on your way home—with wife, after all."
    Dean didn't glance around, which told Kelly he'd been aware of her behind him the whole time. "I told him that it wasn't his fault."
    Troy swished his drink.