Marriage by Mistake by Alyssa Kress

could ask, he laughed again, in a
tone more like his carefree self.
    "But recently I've been able to relax." He
grinned. "Seeing that Dean's got you in his sights, instead."
    Kelly went from worried about Troy to
scowling at him. "For heaven's sake, Dean doesn't have anybody 'in
his sights.'"
    "No? A few minutes ago I could swear I saw
his finger on the trigger." Troy was still grinning as he got up
from his chair. "Have fun."
    Huh. Kelly remained at the patio table as
Troy walked away. She didn't believe Dean had his finger on the
trigger, or at least she wasn't afraid of that. She was afraid because the mere sight of Dean coming out to the patio
had...stirred her so. She'd felt her heart beating and her lungs
struggling for air. Sexual, again.
    It made no sense. The man had been avoiding
her, he looked down on her, but that didn't seem to matter. Her
body kept acting like he was the tender, loving friend she'd made
beside a casino slot machine. No, worse than that. Her body acted
like this fellow would do just as well as the other    if
not better.
    The sun was starting to descend into the tops
of the trees. Kelly shook her head and pushed out of the chair.
Friend or foe, it was time to face him down.
    ###
    At the desk in his study, Dean sifted through
his papers, not really seeing any of them. All he could think was: you asked her in here, to be alone with you, you idiot. What
were you thinking?
    Dean slapped his hand down on a perfectly
well-conceived business plan. He was thinking about Robby, that's
what he was thinking. Robby was the reason he'd asked Kelly into
his study for a good talking-to. She was going to break the child's
heart, carelessly, recklessly. Dean wasn't about to stand around
and let that happen.
    Dean stared at his hand on the desk. It
occurred to him that Kelly might not intend to do wrong. She might
sincerely want to be kind. Tapping his thumb on the papers, Dean
discarded the idea as irrelevant. No matter her intentions, in this
case it was not kind to be, well, kind. In fact, kindness could be
the worst sort of cruelty. He had to get that through to her.
    The door cracked open. Kelly's face peeked
round the jamb. "You wanted to see me?"
    Dean let out a long, slow breath. His skin
heated at her mere presence. He had to struggle to recover his
equanimity as he stood. "Yes, please come in."
    She slipped through the doorway cautiously,
gracefully, like a deer. Her gaze swept the papers set in piles all
over his desk. "I don't even know your job title. President,
CEO?"
    "Chairman of the Board." Of several boards,
in fact, but even the one sounded pompous, suddenly.
    "Family business?" She tilted her head.
    Dean paused. "You could say." He'd founded
the genetics research company himself, then added to it by the
judicious merging with innovative competitors. He didn't feel like
explaining the lone nature of the enterprise to Kelly, however. He
was part of a family, wasn't he? So that made his business a family
business, even if no other member of his family had ever had
anything to do with it. "Please," he ordered. "Have a seat."
    She thought about it, then moved toward the
chairs. Intellectually, Dean understood the discipline it took to
create her sinuous stride. Viscerally, he wanted to stop that
stride and pull her under him onto the Aubusson rug.
    Lord. He fought to bring his body under
control. Robby, he reminded himself. His brother's welfare. That
was his purpose here. Nothing else.
    Kelly halted and rested her hands on the back
of one of the brocade chairs. "I know why you called this little
meeting," she admitted, "and I don't blame you one bit."
    Dean raised his brows. She was going to make
this easy for him?
    "It's time we stopped fooling around here,"
she said.
    "Excuse me?"
    "We have less than two months now." She
strolled around the armchair. "Clearly, you're a busy man, but
you're going to have to find some sort of slot to fit me into your
tight schedule."
    Dean went very still. A slot