Marriage by Mistake

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, Robby 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