Marriage by Mistake

instance. I'm liking this walk."
    Dean snorted.
    "I am." Kelly took a step toward him. "It isn't all that important what we do, just so long as we do it together."
    Dean's eyes narrowed on her. "Why?"
    "Why?"
    "Yes, why?"
    Kelly hesitated. It was the million-dollar question. And just how far, she wondered, dare she answer it? "Why?" she asked again, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, I guess because...I like you." Her heart beat very fast.
    Dean went absolutely still. He stared at Kelly like he'd never seen a creature of the sort in his life. "You like me," he repeated.
    Kelly tried to look nonchalant. "Sure."
    Dean continued to stare until Kelly couldn't take it any more.
    "And you like me," she announced firmly. She held out her hand. "Come on, you were right. It's time to go inside."
    For an awful moment she thought Dean was going to ignore her outstretched hand. But then, jerkily, he reached out. Their palms connected. Slowly, carefully, Dean closed his hand around hers.
    "All right," he said, his voice hoarse. "Let's go inside."
    ~~~
    Dean walked toward the house in a daze. She said she liked him. She liked him. The woman was clearly confused, muddled by the inexplicably powerful emotions roused by their physical passion. He was no doubt adding to her confusion in doing something so cozy as holding her hand.
    Nevertheless, he gripped Kelly's hand all the way back to the house. He sensed this gesture was dangerous, but he didn't let go. Inside, he hummed.
    Hand in hand then, they walked through the kitchen and into the main hall. The stairs loomed before them. She didn't really like him, Dean reminded himself. She just thought she did, as a natural by-product of their physical infatuation. The same with him liking her. Oh sure, she was sweet and nice and all that, but the 'liking' would pass, probably around the same time that their physical obsession faded.
    Nevertheless, he kept her hand all the way up the stairs.
    As they approached Kelly's bedroom door, Dean wondered if she still had a 'headache.' Not that it would be a good idea for them to have sex tonight. In fact, it would be a damn disaster. She'd take it all wrong. And besides, sex didn't seem to be moving this relationship toward its natural conclusion.
    But that didn't stop Dean from feeling a tug of disappointment when Kelly let go of his hand at her bedroom door and turned with definite physical evasion. "So," she said, and leaned her back against the door.
    "So." Dean had no idea what else to say.
    Kelly wore a soft smile. "Thanks," she told him. "That walk was exactly what I needed tonight."
    "It was?" But it couldn't have been, according to Dean's theory. As far as he understood things, Kelly needed exactly what he did: physical passion. Their sexual attraction to each other was at the core of this whole mess. A little walk couldn't truly have satisfied her.
    But Kelly's smile only widened. "Uh huh. You're very good to me, you know."
    Dean could feel his face warm. "Well..."
    "You pay attention," she claimed. Then she stepped forward and Dean felt the quick brush of her lips on his. "Good night, Dean."
    He had to close his eyes at the touch of her. Such a simple thing, so soft, so delicate, yet it ran through him with earth-shattering force. Meanwhile Kelly opened her bedroom door, stepped around it, and was gone.
    Dean was left in the hall, shaken by that small kiss, though he knew by all his theories he shouldn't have been. He really shouldn't have been.

    CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

    On Saturday night, Felicia decided she couldn't avoid the Club forever. She might run into Troy, true, but such a meeting was going to occur sooner or later. Considering the people and places they had in common, they were going to see each other again. Repeatedly. Somehow they would have to get back on a normal footing.
    Still, she didn't expect to see Troy her very first time back. Walking into the lounge of cool green walls and smart white furniture to find him sitting there in an overstuffed armchair was something of a shock. He had one smartly clad knee crossed over the other and was joking with Joe Esterley and Martin Goeffland. Felicia's immediate reflex was to turn around and leave the room.
    But she suppressed the cowardly impulse. This was her club, too. If she wanted to sit in the elegant, half-lit lounge and enjoy a glass of white wine then she shouldn't let the mere presence of Troy stop her.
    Pinning a casual smile on her face, she straightened