Marriage by Mistake

her eyes, eyes that seemed deeper, more three-dimensional than the day before. His insides clenched. This was the moment to tell her.
    If he were about to do anything of the sort.
    Dean smiled. Everything within him calmed. He was not going to tell her. Not now, and maybe not tomorrow, either. This simply felt too good. And, wrong or right, he wanted to feel good.
    "I'm sure," he said. Still smiling, he kissed her.
    ~~~
    That day, a Monday, Dean drove Kelly up to Rockport, the old fishing village. They wandered the streets of gift shops, then toured the Revolutionary-era mansions. While enjoying herself, Kelly watched Dean. He was spontaneous. He was relaxed. But he also took care of his responsibilities. At one point in the afternoon he bought Kelly a fat paperback, installed her in a quaint café, and went off for forty-five minutes to make phone calls. When he came back he was smiling. Indeed, he was relaxed enough to sit down and order a fancy coffee, after which he suggested a hike.
    Kelly found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dean had spent so much of his life behind emotional walls. It didn't make sense for him to act the way he was today, as if he'd overcome all his fear. And yet, one couldn't deny he was having a good time with her, laughing, connecting. And that morning in bed, he'd really seemed to, well, care .
    She felt torn between wanting to accept things the way they seemed to be, and wondering if she ought to push the issue.
    She ended up choosing not to push the issue. Everything was too nice, too dreamy and marvelous. She didn't even question matters when Dean pulled off the road on their way back home, when they began kissing—and more—in the back seat of his car. If ever there was a time Kelly should have been protecting herself by making sure of a man's feelings, this was it. Yet she did nothing.
    All right, maybe there was something wrong here, something off, but most of it felt so good and right. The last thing Kelly wanted to do was ruin what appeared to be Dean's awakening, and the beginning of true love.
    ~~~
    "Okay, so that's taken care of." Felicia folded the budget request that Andrea, director of the Boston Family Aid Foundation, had just given her, and put it in her briefcase. Then she smiled at Andrea across the functional desk in the tiny office of the family shelter facility. "I'll see what I can do about getting you those folding chairs and call you later in the week."
    "That'd be great." Andrea stood to bid Felicia goodbye. Her mop of frizzy brown hair and ubiquitous blue jeans belied the sharp competence of a first-rate administrator. So when Andrea's smile turned questioning and her eyes went past Felicia's shoulder toward the door, Felicia turned around to see what had caught Andrea's attention.
    She found Troy Singleton standing in the doorway.
    Felicia hoped she didn't gasp. But, for the love of—there was Troy, with his sharp-fitting clothes, his easy grace, and his thousand-watt smile. Troy, who instantly made her stomach sink to her toes and her heart start racing. What on earth was he doing at the Boston Family Aid shelter?
    "Hey, Felicia," Troy said, and his smile managed to widen.
    As inconspicuously as possible, Felicia cleared her throat. "Hello, Troy." His appearance made no sense at all. Troy had been the one to suggest they never speak to each other. But Felicia recalled her manners and turned to Andrea. "This is Troy Singleton, Dean Singleton's cousin. Troy, please meet Andrea Shapiro, director of the Boston Family Aid shelter."
    "Pleased to meet you." Troy smiled and came through the door to shake hands with Andrea. "I've heard so much about this place from Felicia. Thought I'd come check it out." Then he turned to look at Felicia.
    It was a request. No, a demand. She was supposed to help him 'check it out,' by offering a tour.
    No way. Felicia wasn't about to give Troy a tour. She didn't want to spend five minutes in his company. Or, more accurately, she wanted to spend a great deal longer than five minutes in his company, while committing unspeakable acts with him. Oh, her response to him was so dangerous.
    She could easily imagine falling under his spell, losing herself, forgetting that Troy was not the kind of man a woman could trust. He wasn't Dean. Not solid or reliable or safe.
    But as she stood there being watched by both Troy and Andrea, she couldn't decently refuse to give him a tour. Andrea would wonder what the problem was. Troy would