Kelly stilled even as her heart raced. She couldn't believe her eyes. Was this Dean, really Dean, marching toward her in the middle of a busy Friday afternoon?
And if so, just 'which' Dean was he?
Dean strode up to her position, dropped the cases he was holding, and sneered. "Fishing," he said.
The usual Dean, Kelly decided, and he wasn't bending here at all. Quite the opposite, it appeared. But her heart kept on racing as she got to her feet. "Yeah," she said, and lifted her chin. "Fishing."
Dean put his hands on his hips. "You don't have the slightest idea how to catch a fish."
Kelly arched her brows and tried to calm her pulse. "So?"
He squinted at her. Slowly, he said, "So. Fishing is about catching fish."
"Oh, yeah?"
Only a brief hesitation showed he'd heard her answer. Then he was bending on one knee over his case to snap it open. "This is a real rod."
"No."
"Yes." He lifted an impossibly delicate-looking stick from the case. With a supercilious expression, he eyed her. "You have to use the right equipment, learn the correct techniques."
"Hmm." She'd been right. He wasn't bending. He'd only come to — to organize their fun. "Well, that might be true," Kelly told him, "if fishing were really about catching fish."
He blinked. "Pardon me?"
"I said maybe we'd need the proper equipment and the correct techniques if we were actually out here to catch fish."
She saw his nostrils flare. "You're not out here to catch fish?"
Kelly didn't dare glance toward Robby, who was staring at his line. "No."
Slowly, Dean rose. "Then what are you doing?"
Kelly crossed her arms. "We're...communing with nature. Taking it easy."
A muscle in Dean's jaw jumped. "I do know how to 'take it easy.' And fishing — fishing correctly — is not all that stressful a sport."
He wasn't getting it at all. They weren't out here to compete at sports. They weren't trying to achieve anything. Oh, he was utterly hopeless. And yet as she stared into his grim, intense face, Kelly couldn't help feeling something warm and tender grow inside.
"Sports in general are stressful," she countered, perhaps more sharply than necessary. She didn't want to feel warm inside! "Believe me, I know. And we are not doing any of that here. We are relaxing." And she was not falling in love with him, she wasn't! But despite it all, the warm feeling inside her grew.
He tilted his head and gave her a peculiar look. "The hell you say."
"Excuse me?"
"Move aside. I intend to show Robby how to fish."
"No."
"Yes."
"A fish!" Robby exclaimed. "I've got a fish!" His words cut through the escalating argument like a knife through butter.
"What?" Kelly whirled.
"No." Dean stepped toward him.
"It's — it's something," Robby said, battling to hold onto his line.
It was indeed something. Kelly could see Robby's kitchen string line stretch tight. "Hold on!" she called.
"A net," Dean muttered. "He needs a net."
"No time!" Kelly exclaimed, and splashed directly into the stream.
"Oh, for the love of — " she heard Dean growl, but Kelly clomped toward Robby's taut line anyway. It wasn't the right way to do things, but neither was Robby's paper clip hook or cheese bait correct, so Kelly figured it evened out. She stooped and plunged her hands into the stream.
"It's getting away!" Robby wailed.
"No. No, it isn't. I feel it!"
"You don't." Suddenly Dean was right in front of her.
"What?" The sight of him, up to his high-tailored knees in water, made Kelly start. She dropped the fish. "What — what the heck are you doing, Dean?"
"I'm going to get that fish," he replied, and plunged his own hands into the stream.
For half a second she stared at him. He was going to ruin his suit. Then her eyes widened. "Oh, no you don't. That's my fish — I mean, Robby's." She moved to intercept. Too late.
"Got it!" Dean crowed and lifted a wiggling fish. His jacket sleeves were soaked but he gave Kelly an unmistakable look of triumph.
"Ha!" Kelly gloated as the fish slipped out of his grasp. She lunged for it.
So did Dean. They collided midstream.
"Oof!"
"Hey!"
"I've got it."
"No, I have."
Robby was screaming something, Kelly couldn't understand what. Meanwhile neither she nor Dean actually had the fish, which wriggled between their pressed-together bodies. Kelly's hands grappled with Dean's in the slippery mess between them.
"Can't you — ?
"Over there!"
At one point they almost had it, four hands wrapped around the scaly creature. But Kelly could feel the fish gaining ground.
She started to laugh. It was too much, Robby jumping up and down on the bank, the two of them soaked and fighting this poor fish. Talk about stress! Still laughing, her eyes met Dean's.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Dean's hold on the fish loosened.
"Shoot!" Robby exclaimed, as the fish wiggled free.
God, Kelly thought. Oh God, oh God. It was there, shimmering in the air between them, the special something, the zing — exactly what she'd felt the first time they'd met in Las Vegas. As if...as if the two of them had been born soul mates, as if they understood each other and always would. As if they belonged together.
Dean looked like he'd been hit by a baseball bat. Kelly thought he was going to stumble backwards, but he didn't. Instead, a sort of haze rose over his eyes. Then he leaned toward her, took her face between his hands, and kissed her.
At first Kelly couldn't do anything but close her eyes. It felt so incredibly good, like a shower of sunshine spreading through her bones. Dean's hands, his mouth, the mere touch of him. Then he got hungry. He moved his head, shifted his lips. And the kiss went from good to other-worldly. Kelly moaned and reached up for him.
They seemed to meld, just blend right into each other. And warmth, such a fantastic warmth grew between them against the freezing cold water of the stream.
"Aw-w-w," Robby complained.
At the sound, Dean started. With his mouth still pressed to Kelly's, he seemed to come back to himself. She could feel him leaving her, first emotionally, then physically. The delicious warmth retreated as he pulled away.
Slowly, very slowly, in no rush to return to reality herself, Kelly lifted her lashes.
Dean was looking down at her with an expression of complete bafflement. As she gazed back, Kelly grew baffled herself. What had happened to 'her' Dean? She could tell he was gone. More bewildering yet, the warm feeling inside her, the connection, wasn't going away. No, it kept growing. Even though this wasn't 'her' Dean!
His brows curled. "I — "
"Have to take a picture," Kelly interrupted. She blinked and took a giant step back, nearly falling into the water. "Historic event," she chattered on. "Have to preserve for posterity." Her heart was going a mile a minute. What was happening to her? She didn't even care that 'her' Dean had left! The feelings — they kept escalating. She — had to think.
"What do you have to take a picture of?" Robby wanted to know. He shoved his hands onto his hips. "You're all done kissing."
Dean choked. Kelly laughed. A register too high. She turned and splashed away from Dean, up the bank. Camera, camera. She needed something to occupy her hands. Because she hadn't switched allegiance. She wasn't settling. She wanted her Dean, the one who was free and easy, the one who loved her.
On the bank, Kelly fumbled for her disposable camera, picked it up, and made herself turn around. Dean was standing ten feet away from her, fancy suit dripping. He looked like he wanted to strangle somebody, starting with himself. He looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Definitely not 'her' Dean at all. Yet Kelly felt something puff up enormous in her chest.
"Here, I'll take the picture," Robby said. He shoved past Dean. "Because both of you guys are lunatics."
Kelly didn't protest as Robby took the camera out of her hands. She was about to drop it, anyway. What was going on with her?
Dean, meanwhile, had obviously figured out exactly what was going on with him, and didn't like it one bit. He got a tight look on his face, the kind that said he was so above it all. Before Robby could snap a picture, he took a big step away.
"Staff report," he claimed. "They're all waiting."
"Huh?" Robby said.
Dean didn't bother to explain. His eyes flicked once, worriedly, to Kelly. Then he turned, expression implacable again, and stalked away.
Though he was clearly trying his best to pretend nothing had happened, Kelly could hear water squishing out of his shoes.
She wanted to laugh. She might have laughed, if she didn't want to deny it all so badly herself. She'd fallen in love with one man. She just couldn't have gone and become interested in another one.
###
Three hours later she was not surprised to learn that Dean had fled the scene altogether.
"Emergency," Troy announced when she walked into the dining room and looked around. His gaze was close on her. "In Atlanta. Said he'd be out of town 'til Monday."
Kelly stood in her floor-length gown, the one she'd picked out especially for Dean, and tried to absorb her disappointment. He was gone. Well, that was...good. Yes, good. Because she was having serious doubts about her sanity.
She'd kissed him, the 'other' Dean — twice now. She'd felt something for him. She'd just spent the entire afternoon primping and dressing for him. And now she was disappointed that he was gone.
This wasn't right. It wasn't wise or good. It wasn't even loyal.
"Oh, well then," Kelly said out loud. "Might as well eat." She walked up to a chair and drew it out. But her mouth felt stuffy.
Robby half climbed, half sat in his chair. Troy seated himself elegantly in his own. With his brows rising, he picked up a linen napkin. "I must say, I can't blame the man for running. Robby told me you were kissing Dean, in the middle of the stream by the north fence." He looked over at Kelly.
"He was kissing me," she corrected, and tossed open her own folded napkin.
Troy snorted. "All the more reason to get scared. What have you done to him, Kelly, thrown some kind of magic spell?"
More like he'd thrown a magic spell on her. She wasn't a fickle person. She'd married a man in Las Vegas. But now, somehow, she was starting to have feelings for this other man in Massachusetts.
"I have to admit — " Troy picked up the spoon for his soup. "I didn't think you were going to get anywhere."
"All of you underestimate me."
"No-o-o." Troy drew out the word. "More like I underestimated Dean. Who'd have guessed he could hold the interest of a decent female this long?" Troy shook his head. "You defy all logic."
Kelly splashed her spoon in her soup. "Logic has nothing to do with it."
"Hm," Troy murmured.
There was a brief silence. Kelly stopped splashing her soup. She regarded the warm, golden color of the butternut squash, then looked up. What had she said? Logic had nothing to do with it.
"I know who I married," Kelly told Troy, vehemently.
Troy started. "Um," he said. "Okay."
Kelly felt heat build beneath her fancy gown, the one she'd picked out just in case Dean had been there for dinner. "I know who I married," she insisted, "and Dean isn't him. He's — he's — a different person altogether."
"Uh...okay," Troy agreed.
Kelly pushed her bowl of soup away. "All right, a part of him is the same, but only a part. And that part keeps coming and going so fast I can't keep track of where it ends and the rest of him begins."
Both Troy and Robby were staring at her. As her words came back to her, Kelly felt like staring at herself. She had just said, she couldn't keep track of where' her' Dean ended and the other one began. "Why, there is no difference between the two," she whispered.
There was no schism, no two, distinct personalities. Dean had been telling the truth in that conference room in Las Vegas. A part of him was the man she had married. That part was always there, but it was only one part. He was much more than that. He was —
Kelly leaned back against the sturdy oak frame of her chair. Who was he?
Troy frowned at her. "No difference between whom, Kelly?"
Good question. Kelly waved a hand. "I thought he was a different person. I mean, he's cold, closed-off, and — and — disapproving." Yes, and that same man had kissed her in the middle of a stream. He'd soaked his fancy business suit, wrestled a fish. Who was Dean?
"He's...more," Kelly said out loud.
"More than cold, closed-off, and disapproving?" Troy's frown deepened. "Not that I know of."
"You're wrong." Kelly laughed, but it was a weak, just-got-hit-in-the-belly kind of laugh. Dean was more. He was loyal, hard-working, and dependable. And when she closed her eyes she could see him standing there with his hands on her face, a look of stark yearning on his own.
He wanted more, too. He wanted love. He really did. In fact, he might even want to love her.
Kelly didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Dean wasn't the man she'd married, but he wasn't not him, either. Oh, how complicated everything had become!
"Personally, I don't think Dean is anything more than that cold, closed-off person you were talking about," Troy spoke up, sounding worried.
"Oh, but he is." Kelly couldn't dismiss the truth. "He just needs — " What? What did Dean need?
"To change his personality?" Troy's eyes widened. "Yes, I believe we could all agree on that."
"No." Kelly put her napkin down. She pushed out of her chair. "What he needs...is to be able to express his personality."
"Uh...doesn't he do that already?"
"No." Kelly paced the length of the dining room table. "He doesn't feel safe. And why should he? No one's ever made him feel that way."
Troy's brows drew down. "Don't get me wrong. I like having you here. But — " He grimaced. "But come on. Dean, not feeling safe? I can't think of anyone more supremely arrogant than my cousin."
Kelly arched her brows at Troy. "Is that right?"
"Yeah." But Troy's gaze averted, and he shifted in his seat. It was all the confirmation Kelly sought.
Troy seemed to know it. "Okay, fine," he said. "Dean may have his...little problems. But I'm sure he feels safe. Or, even if he doesn't, how could you make him feel that way?"
"I don't know how." Kelly gripped the back of her chair. "I only know I have to try."
Troy's gaze narrowed. "You have to try." His eyes became mere slits. "Why?"
Why?
While Troy's regard was narrow, Robby's was wide, and curious.
Why?
Kelly refused to acknowledge the immediate answer that came to mind. She stalked back toward her chair. "How...? Now, that won't be easy, of course." In fact, she hadn't a single, viable idea of how to make Dean feel safe, how to allow him to be who he really was.
But she would think of something, because this was important, vital, no longer a choice. She had to help him.
"No, I don't know the how of it," Kelly admitted and sighed with a wry smile. "But it looks like I have 'til Monday to figure it out."