Marriage by Mistake

always on top of a conversation. "A respectable production. Naturally, I've seen better."
    "Really?"
    "Well, at the Met..." He waved a hand, remembering a particular version of Rigoletto, with Beverly Sills and Luciano Pavarotti. He'd felt transported—
    Shivery, perhaps.
    He frowned. "It's hardly ever like that."
    "I would think not," Kelly agreed. "Tonight was—fantastic enough."
    Their eyes met. And Dean felt the strangest thing. Something like...connection.
    No. He flicked his gaze away. There was no connection between them. Ridiculous. And Kelly hadn't felt shivery from the opera. She was just doing what her kind were good at doing, reaching in, calculating what would please. It was only for the purpose of gaining the upper hand, toe-holding an advantage. She meant to eventually place herself in a position to get what she really wanted.
    Whatever that turned out to be.
    Dean pressed his finger against the edge of his spoon. They would have their refreshment and go home. Evening over, mission accomplished. Not a complete success, but not a disaster, either. He was not entangled in her web.
    The harried waitress returned with their drinks, set them down with a smile, and immediately hurried off. "Thank you," Kelly tried to call after her, but she was gone.
    Kelly glanced over at Dean and shrugged, smiling. He pressed his finger harder against the spoon edge. She turned her attention to her miniature hot water kettle and peeked inside before glancing up at Dean again. "It's funny, you know. We've done this before."
    "Gone to the opera?"
    "No." She picked up a sugar packet. "Sat talking late at night over tea and coffee."
    Dean stared at her and calmed a quick leap of dismay. Well yes, according to her , and his credit card report, they'd done this before. At 'Nat's'. Allegedly, they'd sat talking for hours. But he couldn't have divulged anything terribly intimate during that time; she would have used it against him by now, tried to pry further in. "I hadn't thought of that," he drawled, and leaned back in his chair.
    She tilted him a smile. "You had coffee with cream, before."
    Dean snorted.
    "You did."
    Dean shook his head. "Cream is full of cholesterol."
    Kelly's smile curved. "You like it."
    Dean slid her a glance. "Maybe." He told himself it was no big deal she knew this much about him, but couldn't help adding, "It isn't good for me."
    At that they both stopped. Kelly's smile faded. Dean's face froze. He could tell she was thinking the same thing he was: about the other things he liked that weren't good for him; things like the acts that took place in his recent night dreams. Amazing, athletic, erotic acts. Acts that made him want far too much.
    She caught her lower lip in her teeth. "Well, that was then," she said.
    The hell it was . It was as if the thing were sitting right there between them, big as a pink elephant, the night they had spent together, the intimacies that had occurred. She could remember. Dean could only guess. But neither one of them was going to bring it up. At least, Dean hoped she wouldn't.
    He cleared his throat and scrambled for another topic, anything, to keep the pink elephant from talking. "Since we have the opportunity, perhaps we should speak about Robby."
    "Robby?" She appeared understandably confused. The topic came straight out of left field.
    But Dean persisted. He was going to avoid the pink elephant and at the same time get back to a topic he'd completely dropped since Monday. "Yes, Robby. You have a problem with that?"
    Slowly, she shook her head. "No. In fact, I'm glad you brought him up."
    "You are?" Dean shot her a stern look. She shouldn't imagine he was going to let her off the hook. "You've been spending time with him," he accused.
    "Yes." She looked down and smiled. "And I've gotten to know him a little bit, I think."
    "Have you, now?" Dean was feeling better already. The pink elephant had nearly faded and he was on solid ground again. High ground.
    "I don't know why anyone would complain about his behavior," Kelly remarked. "He seems to act pretty much his age."
    "Yes, well." Dean laughed. "He always straightens up and flies right when he's living with me."
    Kelly gave him a strange look. "Really?"
    Dean tapped a finger on the edge of his coffee cup. "He knows I won't put up with any nonsense."
    " Really ." Kelly lifted her hot water and poured. "I find that very interesting." She set down the kettle. "I imagine he doesn't get good grades at boarding school,