Marriage by Mistake

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 even 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