Marriage by Mistake

her shoulders and waltzed on in. But she was acutely conscious of Troy across the room, still chatting with his friends and apparently unaware of her. She was terribly conscious of her own body, the working of her legs and hips beneath her St. John white dress as she moved toward the bar. And she was blisteringly conscious of the precise moment Troy caught sight of her. From the corner of her eye she saw his nonchalant smile falter.
    An astonishing rush of satisfaction went through her.
    Behind her cool smile, Felicia gritted her teeth. Oh, but feeling satisfaction was...inappropriate. She shouldn't want Troy to notice her, nor should she want him disconcerted because he had.
    Deliberately, she placed her back to Troy and his little group as she slid onto one of the leather cushioned bar stools. "Glass of the house white, please," she told the bartender.
    The young woman with the blond ponytail smiled and nodded. "Right there, Miz Thurgood."
    Felicia kept on smiling but her heart pounded at the sound of Troy's voice, recovered from his shock and now rumbling in and out of the conversation going on behind her. It was no lie they needed to get back to a normal footing. For three days now she'd been hearing that voice, seeing his face. She'd been over and over it, the image of his stark features right before his mouth had come down on hers. The gritty sound of his voice telling her he was attracted to her, that all this time he'd actually liked her.
    At odd moments of the day her heart would speed, just as it did now, simply from remembering.
    Felicia breathed in and out deeply, determined to calm down.
    "You okay, Miz Thurgood?" The bartender's youthful features showed concern as she set a glass of pale gold wine in front of Felicia.
    Felicia brightened her smile. "What? Oh, I'm fine." To prove it, she lifted her glass and took a small sip, smiling again at the bartender as she lowered the glass.
    The young woman's expression relaxed and she turned away. Felicia's smile faded. The wine, which she knew was excellent, tasted like water. Nothing, actually, had tasted very interesting since Troy's kiss.
    Meanwhile, Felicia could hear the group behind her breaking up. Joe was announcing he had a dinner meeting. Martin grumbled that he had a wife and kids waiting for him at home. Felicia felt her heart pounding mercilessly against the wall of her chest.
    Troy was going to leave, too. He was going to walk out with the other two men. She tensed, in anticipation of being able to relax.
    "Tennis tomorrow?" Troy asked someone.
    "Noon," Martin replied. "On the dot, man. Some of us have jobs."
    Troy chuckled. But then, instead of leaving with the others, he walked right up to Felicia. The hair on her arms stood up straight as he sauntered oh, so casually, to the barstool on her right.
    She wanted to look at him. She wanted to send him a cool and casual smile, something to say that he'd never rattled her. But all she could do was sit there, staring fixedly at her wine glass.
    A tanned hand moved into her vision, long fingers reached into the ceramic bowl of cashews in front of her.
    "Hi, Felicia," Troy said.
    Finally, Felicia managed to pin on a bright smile. She managed to turn his way long enough to flash it at him. "Hello, Troy."
    He didn't smile back. "You okay with me sitting here?"
    While her fingers played with her wine glass, Felicia gave a light laugh. "Okay? Why, of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?"
    From the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze turn mildly deriding. "I haven't seen you on the tennis courts recently."
    "That's because I haven't been playing recently."
    His voice pitched low as he asked, "Have I driven you away?"
    "Oh, Troy." She gave another little laugh, so superior, so above it all, and made herself glance at him again. "I wouldn't let you do that."
    But Troy simply looked at her.
    She smiled, held up her wine, and looked directly back at him. "I'm here, aren't I?"
    "Ye-es."
    "So." She waved a hand. As if to say she'd just proved her point.
    Troy leaned an elbow on the bar, rested his jaw on his hand, and gazed at her. His dark eyes did amazing and mortifying things to her physiology. "So," he said. "You'd be willing, say, to play on a tennis court right next to the one I was playing on?"
    "Certainly." Felicia took a sip of her wine, meanwhile imagining Troy playing tennis, his muscles moving under his shirt. Her heart sped the way it did when she remembered his kiss.
    "And you'd sit at a table