to fit her
in ?
She was directly in front of his desk now,
close enough to bang her thighs against it. "I need to get to know
you," she said.
Dean's brain went cock-eyed. She needed to get to know him ? Only by looking at her face and seeing the
utter sobriety there, did her real meaning penetrate.
She needed to get to know him, him as opposed
to the man she'd married. This had been her avowed goal as his
temporary wife. He wanted to talk about Robby, he needed to talk
about Robby, but...she had a point.
"Well?" She crossed her arms.
Dean raised his chin. "Of course. You do need
evidence if you are to reach any conclusions. I understand that."
But damned if he wanted to spend ten minutes in her company.
On the other hand, he had to spend time in
her company. Implicitly, he'd given his word. Flustered, Dean heard
himself blurt, "What about the opera? Saturday night."
She stopped her gentle banging against his
desk. "What?"
'What,' indeed. It was a ridiculous idea. But
Dean had gone too far to turn back. He adopted a lofty tone. "Come
with me to the opera on Saturday night. A date. That is the
conventional means by which couples get to know one another, is it
not?"
"A date," she murmured.
A date at the opera. He was an idiot. Yes, he
had tickets for the special benefit performance Saturday evening,
but he'd planned to forego them. His showgirl wife would hardly
appreciate La Bohème, and in his present circumstances he could
hardly invite somebody more suitable.
"The opera," Kelly went on, speaking louder.
One corner of her mouth curved thoughtfully. "Sounds...great!"
"It does?"
"That's a whole evening, right? Dinner, the
show, at least three, four hours?"
"Closer to five." Dean was regretting his
impulsive invitation more by the second. It would be five hours of
temptation, five hours of physical affliction.
On the other hand, maybe a date with his wife
would be a means to extinguish this inappropriate lust, once and
for all. Seen against the backdrop of his real life she would have
to look less attractive... Wouldn't she?
"Five hours," Kelly breathed. For an instant
Dean thought she turned uncertain, too, but that had to be his
imagination. What would she have to be uncertain about?
And, indeed, she gave a decisive nod.
"Saturday night," she said. "It's a date."
###
A date with her husband. It had to be the
worst idea in the world, Kelly decided. Why? For one thing, she
didn't have a thing to wear.
Kelly stood inside the Olympic-size walk-in
closet of her bedroom suite on Saturday afternoon, her arms crossed
over her chest and one hip locked. No, not a single, solitary thing
hanging in that closet was appropriate to wear to the opera. Not
that Kelly knew what was appropriate to wear to the opera, but she
was certain she didn't have it. And it was too late to go shopping.
Besides, she needed to save her money, not working for two
months.
Kelly scowled and fit one of her fingers
between her teeth. All right, she wasn't worried about what she was
going to wear; she could always figure out something. What had her
all hot and bothered was being roped into this 'date' at all.
Five hours together with Dean Singleton.
Oh, it was her own fault. In Dean's study,
knowing he wanted to blow up at her about Robby and not wanting to
back down about her involvement with the kid, she'd reached wildly
for some way, any way, to distract him.
So now they had to spend time together, five
hours worth of time. Together.
Kelly let out a deep breath. Well? So? Wasn't
it her goal here to spend time with Dean 'this' Dean
to get to know who he was? She needed to put the
question of this marriage firmly behind her.
But there was one small problem. Every time
she saw Dean there was the heart beating, the blood rushing, and
the sensation of butterflies in her stomach.
Worse, he was clearly hot for her right back.
Meanwhile it was only becoming more and more clear how very wrong
they were for each other. Their values,
in ?
She was directly in front of his desk now,
close enough to bang her thighs against it. "I need to get to know
you," she said.
Dean's brain went cock-eyed. She needed to get to know him ? Only by looking at her face and seeing the
utter sobriety there, did her real meaning penetrate.
She needed to get to know him, him as opposed
to the man she'd married. This had been her avowed goal as his
temporary wife. He wanted to talk about Robby, he needed to talk
about Robby, but...she had a point.
"Well?" She crossed her arms.
Dean raised his chin. "Of course. You do need
evidence if you are to reach any conclusions. I understand that."
But damned if he wanted to spend ten minutes in her company.
On the other hand, he had to spend time in
her company. Implicitly, he'd given his word. Flustered, Dean heard
himself blurt, "What about the opera? Saturday night."
She stopped her gentle banging against his
desk. "What?"
'What,' indeed. It was a ridiculous idea. But
Dean had gone too far to turn back. He adopted a lofty tone. "Come
with me to the opera on Saturday night. A date. That is the
conventional means by which couples get to know one another, is it
not?"
"A date," she murmured.
A date at the opera. He was an idiot. Yes, he
had tickets for the special benefit performance Saturday evening,
but he'd planned to forego them. His showgirl wife would hardly
appreciate La Bohème, and in his present circumstances he could
hardly invite somebody more suitable.
"The opera," Kelly went on, speaking louder.
One corner of her mouth curved thoughtfully. "Sounds...great!"
"It does?"
"That's a whole evening, right? Dinner, the
show, at least three, four hours?"
"Closer to five." Dean was regretting his
impulsive invitation more by the second. It would be five hours of
temptation, five hours of physical affliction.
On the other hand, maybe a date with his wife
would be a means to extinguish this inappropriate lust, once and
for all. Seen against the backdrop of his real life she would have
to look less attractive... Wouldn't she?
"Five hours," Kelly breathed. For an instant
Dean thought she turned uncertain, too, but that had to be his
imagination. What would she have to be uncertain about?
And, indeed, she gave a decisive nod.
"Saturday night," she said. "It's a date."
###
A date with her husband. It had to be the
worst idea in the world, Kelly decided. Why? For one thing, she
didn't have a thing to wear.
Kelly stood inside the Olympic-size walk-in
closet of her bedroom suite on Saturday afternoon, her arms crossed
over her chest and one hip locked. No, not a single, solitary thing
hanging in that closet was appropriate to wear to the opera. Not
that Kelly knew what was appropriate to wear to the opera, but she
was certain she didn't have it. And it was too late to go shopping.
Besides, she needed to save her money, not working for two
months.
Kelly scowled and fit one of her fingers
between her teeth. All right, she wasn't worried about what she was
going to wear; she could always figure out something. What had her
all hot and bothered was being roped into this 'date' at all.
Five hours together with Dean Singleton.
Oh, it was her own fault. In Dean's study,
knowing he wanted to blow up at her about Robby and not wanting to
back down about her involvement with the kid, she'd reached wildly
for some way, any way, to distract him.
So now they had to spend time together, five
hours worth of time. Together.
Kelly let out a deep breath. Well? So? Wasn't
it her goal here to spend time with Dean 'this' Dean
to get to know who he was? She needed to put the
question of this marriage firmly behind her.
But there was one small problem. Every time
she saw Dean there was the heart beating, the blood rushing, and
the sensation of butterflies in her stomach.
Worse, he was clearly hot for her right back.
Meanwhile it was only becoming more and more clear how very wrong
they were for each other. Their values,
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