It would have been a great weekend, Troy thought, with Dean guaranteed to be gone, except that he had this apology deal with Felicia to get over with on Sunday. Or at least Troy thought he'd get the apology over with on Sunday, but late Friday night he hit the button on the answering machine in his bedroom and found out she was going to keep the wretched thing hanging over his head — again.
"...so very sorry," Felicia's voice claimed, in her best high-society accent. "I completely forgot about this luncheon I absolutely must attend on Sunday for the Head Start Support Foundation. Really, I don't know how it slipped my mind. So, please, let's set another day. Next week perhaps..." Her voice trailed off as she muttered a few other inanities and said good-bye.
With one hand loosening his silk party tie, Troy used the other to put a finger over the stop button on the machine and slowly depress it. He could feel a muscle in his jaw clench. She was putting it off — again.
He might not have minded, he might even have approved of Felicia's delaying tactics if it wasn't looking more and more like his apology was going to be necessary.
Hell. Dean and Kelly looked like they might actually take a stab at being married to each other. His stuffy, uptight cousin had kissed her. Quite a smooch, if Robby was to be believed. And at dinner that night Kelly had sounded far gone, like she was falling in love, for heaven's sake.
Troy shook his head. Kelly was either heading for one terrific drop or...she was going to end up married, really married, to Dean.
The idea of Dean being permanently off the market and of the position in which that placed Felicia caused all sorts of conflicting and unpleasant emotions to churn in Troy's gut.
The more time that passed, the more difficult this apology was going to be.
He picked up the phone, about to call Felicia right then and there, about to demand she not put him off again, when he realized it was well after midnight. Cursing under his breath, he set the phone back down. He took a pace across the brown-gold carpet.
Perhaps it was just as well he couldn't call her. He needed to think. He needed to plan and strategize and come up with a guaranteed way to get Felicia to have this lunch date with him. Troy expelled a disgusted breath. Yes, he had to think.
Felicia had a way of forcing him to do that.
###
After a miserable weekend in Atlanta, Dean returned to Boston on Monday morning knowing exactly what had to be done. He went straight from the airport to his office.
"Get Myers on the phone, would you?" he asked Mrs. Barnes as soon as he walked through the door.
"Myers?" Mrs. Barnes looked up from her computer. "Your attorney?"
"That's right. See if you can set up an appointment for today."
"Yes of course, Mr. Singleton."
Ah, Dean thought, a woman who listened and did what she was told. So...refreshing. He continued through to his office, feeling good enough to whistle. The solution was so easy he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before.
Money. Everybody had his — or her — price. Dean chuckled. He wouldn't be falling down on his responsibility. Not if Kelly took it. That would mean she was accepting compensation, money for breach of promise. He'd be clear.
For the first time in countless days, Dean sat behind his desk, ready to work.
Mrs. Barnes buzzed. Dean pressed on the intercom. "Yes?"
"Would twelve-thirty do?" Mrs. Barnes asked. "Mr. Myers is completely booked, but will take off lunch since it's you."
Dean smiled hard enough to hurt. "Twelve-thirty is fine. Tell him I'll bring lunch."
"Very good, sir."
Dean released the intercom button and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. This was so damnably simple. By one o'clock, one-thirty at the latest, all his problems would be solved. He'd have Myers draw up a cash settlement, something not even Kelly could refuse. Yes, she would take the money.
And she'd be out of his life.
No more sighings over opera, no more fishing with bare hands. No more scary, out-of-this-universe kisses. Sanity. Whistling for real now, Dean separated his hands and bent over the papers on his desk.
Three hours of steady work later, Dean checked his watch. His eyebrows jumped, and he smiled. Three solid hours. Yes, he had been ready to get back to business. He straightened the papers on his desk and reached for his jacket. Mrs. Barnes buzzed.
Dean grimaced. Had Myers thought they were supposed to meet here? He pressed the intercom. "Tell him I don't have lunch yet."
Mrs. Barnes ignored that. "Your wife is here," she said.
Dean froze, his finger on the intercom. No. He hadn't heard that. He hadn't had a chance to meet with Myers yet. He — he didn't have the information necessary to strike a deal.
"Mr. Singleton?" Mrs. Barnes said.
Dean realized he was going to have to do something. He straightened, took a deep breath, and depressed the intercom button again. "My wife?" He did his best to sound casual. "Why, send her on in." As if there was anything else he could do. God.
One second later, the door of his office opened. Kelly sauntered in.
Every cell in Dean's body jumped to electrical awareness. It was almost painful. Almost.
"Well, hey," Kelly said, smiling.
Dean swallowed. He should have instructed Mrs. Barnes to make her wait, not that time would have dulled her effect. Her smile alone — It could warm the North pole. And then there was what she was wearing, one of those knit tops with spaghetti-thin straps, the kind that show a woman's bra straps. Only Kelly wasn't showing any bra straps.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Kelly sashayed in the direction of his desk. Her skirt was short. Very short.
Dean was glad he was standing behind the desk, and that the desk was piled sufficiently high with papers. It wouldn't do for her to notice his immediate, and purely physical, reaction.
He cleared his throat. "No, you're not interrupting anything at all." Except a meeting to get rid of you. He raised his eyebrows. "What can I do for you?"
Her eyes laughed at him. "Oh. So polite. So helpful." On the other side of his desk, she came to a stop.
"Excuse me?" Dean tried to look innocent.
She wagged a finger. "You ran away."
Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Dean could feel his face flush. "I — had to get to our plant in Atlanta. It was an emergency."
"Oh, I'm sure it was." She rolled her eyes. "Since you finally broke down and kissed me."
Dean crushed his teeth together. He could still feel that kiss, its velvety excitement. "Is there a reason you're here, Kelly?" As if he didn't know. She was here to...sink her claws into him. Well, he wasn't going to let her. He was going to make his meeting with Myers. They would concoct a plan to extract her claws.
She twisted to perch a hip on the corner of his desk. "I'm here so you can make it up to me." She threw him a very naughty smile.
Dean tried to meet her gaze dispassionately, but his inner temperature spiked. It was impossible not to fantasize exactly how she'd like him to 'make it up.' As calmly as he could, he lifted his watch. "Ahem, maybe some other time. You see, I have an appointment."
She laughed. "Oh, no. I'm sorry Dean, but you can't use that excuse again."
Her face had come alive with her laugh, become radiant. Dean forced himself to breathe. "It's not an excuse." Indeed, if he didn't manage to get Kelly out of his office soon, he'd miss his chance to make sure she never ambushed him there again.
"It is an excuse, but I'll tell you what." Kelly's head tilted. "I'll consider us quits if you answer one question."
Dean stared. That was it? One question? He didn't believe she would make it this easy, but asked, "What?"
To his surprise, her teasing gaze dropped. When she spoke, she sounded almost timid. "Tell me, Dean, what was the hypnotic suggestion?"
He froze.
Kelly looked up. "I always assumed it was — well, for you to go out and do something embarrassing. But I asked Troy and he said it wasn't that, but he wouldn't tell me. He said it would have to come from you." She gazed at Dean steadily.
Dean gazed right back, even though it seemed like all the air was leaving the room. The hypnotic suggestion. He couldn't answer her. Not truthfully. She'd make all kinds of assumptions — false assumptions. Like they really were meant to stay together or that he actually wanted to fall in love with her. He made himself breathe and his eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid that information is...not forthcoming."
"Not forthcoming?"
"I'm not going to tell you."
This provoked a lengthy perusal from those witchy green eyes. "You mean," she said at last, "it's too personal."
Dean gave a curt nod.
Kelly held her fortune-teller eyes on him a minute more, then lowered her gaze. "Okay," she said. "I guess I can understand that."
Dean blinked. She could? She was going to back off? Not that he planned to stick around and look a gift horse in the mouth. "Thank you," he said stiffly, and began to come around from behind his desk. "Then if you'll excuse me, I really do have an appointment to make."
He thought he was going to get away, he really did. He was halfway to the door when she stepped in front of him. She put a hand on his chest. "Not so fast."
"Pardon?" Dean tried his best to look unworried, though his heart was beating very fast beneath her hand.
"You didn't answer my question." The corners of Kelly's mouth curved. "So, now you owe me."
"I — what?"
"You owe me. Still. For running away the other day. So — " She got a wicked sparkle in her eye. "So no going to your appointment unless...you kiss me."
"What?"
"You heard. Kiss me. Right here." She tapped her lips.
Dean's own lips parted. No way, no how. He wasn't going to kiss her. It was exactly the kind of activity — the dangerous kind — he was going to meet Myers to prevent.
"You don't think you can do it." Kelly was arch.
"Of course I can do it."
"Hmm, yes. You kiss very well." Kelly patted his tie. "But you couldn't just kiss me and stop there. Not any more."
"What are you talking about?"
Her eyes flicked up at him. "Your famous self-control. You don't have it with me."
The look in her eyes sent a thrill through Dean. "Nonsense." His own gaze averted. "You are no different than any other woman."
"Oh, really?" Her hand moved up his tie, lightly circling it. "Prove it."
Dean swallowed. That thing she was doing with his tie made his knees feel weak, but he could do it. He could kiss her, knowing it was a means to get out the door to meet Myers, and that Myers was a means to get her out of his life altogether. "Fine," he said. "I'll prove it."
Triumph — or was it arousal — flashed across her face. Dean felt a simultaneous fire blaze inside, but he could manage this. He did have the self-control.
Jaw clenched, he put one hand over hers. He moved it down from his tie. But that didn't really help. As she looked up at him he could feel heat spread from his center out to his extremities. But, fine. That didn't mean he was going to get carried away. He could kiss her and stop at that. In fact, he could make it a very short kiss. He had that much control.
He put his free hand on her cheek and bent his face to hers. They would touch lips, he decided. That defined a kiss. And it wouldn't be cowardly to leave it at that. Simply...prudent. His face lowered. Mouth touched mouth.
At the contact of his flesh to hers an incredible sensation rushed through Dean. A tidal wave, a volcano, a hurricane.
But still... He could pull back. He could stop there, as Kelly had taunted him that he couldn't. Even against a hurricane he could maintain control. But Dean didn't pull back. His lips stayed pressed against Kelly's.
He waited for the hurricane to pass, but there was no attenuation. On the contrary, the sensation grew wilder. More out of control. Dean felt his lips move against hers.
Oh, her lips were soft, pliant, amazingly giving beneath the savagery growing inside him. Then she moaned.
It was the merest sound, like a kitten's mew. But it made Dean breathe in hard and feel even more barbaric. He moved closer. God, he couldn't stop — feeling. It was — overpowering. His grip on her tightened and his mouth got fierce.
Kelly melted under this assault. Gulping in air, Dean squeezed her yet closer. His hands moved up and down her back.
He needed to stop. This was getting completely out of hand. He felt positively ablaze. But instead of stopping, he deepened the kiss, using his tongue. He slipped one hand beneath her shirt.
"The door." It was a hoarse whisper from Kelly, only possible because Dean had relinquished her mouth for her neck.
"Hmm?" Dean's seeking fingers found the nipple riding the softness of her breast. That wonderful nipple was taut and aroused, like himself.
"The door," she croaked, arching backward. "It's not locked."
Dean's busy fingers halted. The door, not locked. But — locking the door would mean he was committed, that he was going to proceed with this madness. That he wasn't going to stop.
And he was going to stop...
In just a minute.
Meanwhile...he nipped her ear. She gasped. The sound, the way her body jerked in response, pushed a roll of pleasure through him. He heard an animal sound come out of his throat.
Stop, a voice whispered, very dim, and far away. Dean ignored it. He leaned back, hitting his desk. But rather than distancing himself from Kelly, he pulled her with him, hip pressed to hip. In the moment of sway, while her shoulders were back, he pushed up her shirt.
Her breasts were a beautiful sight, aroused, as his fingers had discovered already, the nipples large and pink. Growling, Dean lowered his mouth.
She moaned again, louder than that kitten thing, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Dean couldn't get enough of her. She tasted so good. He suckled hard, not the delicate dance he usually played, tantalizing, in control. This was crazy, like wildfire, ferocious.
She shoved her pelvis against him. "The door," she said again, a soft wail.
Dean flailed back with one hand. The intercom. It took a minute to find the button, as he refused to let his mouth leave Kelly's breast.
"Yes, Mr. Singleton?" Mrs. Barnes' fluty tones swept into the room.
Dean forced his lips from Kelly's nipple. "No interruptions."
"Yes, Mr. — " Mrs. Barnes' voice cut off as Dean released his hand from the intercom. He moved that hand to Kelly's rear.
"This is — " Kelly's words ended on a groan as Dean palmed her bottom. Head thrown back, she began circling her hips against his.
This was crazy, insane, but Dean was beyond caring. It had been building for some time — from the moment she'd first burst through his conference room door three weeks ago, in fact, and he was through fighting it. God help him but they were going to finish this. Holding her hips close to his, he turned them both so that she was the one leaning against the desk.
Kelly understood what he wanted, parting her legs so she could wrap them around him. Dean drew in a deep breath and took her mouth again. Tongue plundering, he leaned her all the way down, her back flat on his desk. The Robertson report scattered. A pen holder fell. As finely sharpened pencils rolled onto the floor, Dean put his hand under Kelly's skirt.
Her panties, well, there was hardly anything to them. All he had to do was push a scrap of lace to one side and there she was. A crisp curl of hair and then a wet and warm softness.
"Dean!" Her whole body convulsed.
She was so wet, so hot and utterly inviting. And the way she responded — it was beyond Dean's experience. A woman needed more than what he was giving her, which was simply him taking whatever he wanted. He should slow down, behave like a gentleman, but she opened her legs and shoved against him. He gasped against her mouth. She liked this. She wanted more.
He nipped the edge of her jaw, then sucked on her neck. Meanwhile his finger flicked gently, making her jerk. At her responsive motion, Dean couldn't let his mouth linger at her neck, though he should have. He should have prolonged the pleasure, used control. Instead he slid between her legs. Holding her scrap of panties to one side, he applied his tongue.
She screamed. Well, not out loud. It was a between-the-teeth and in-the-throat kind of scream. As if she were doing her best to restrain herself — and failing. Dean felt an access of pleasure and pride. Despite his greed, he was driving her crazy, sending her right through the ceiling.
She moaned and thrashed her head from side to side. Dean used his shoulder to hold up her thigh and moved his hand to one pink nipple. Lightly, he pinched.
Her hips bucked and then her whole body jerked and shuddered. Above his shoulder, Dean could feel heat suddenly flush her body. "Enough," she whispered, and pushed his head.
Dean looked up and felt a surge in his own engorgement. Yes, she'd come. Very nicely, too. Her hair was tousled and her face a rose blush; her breasts were the same blush color, and more erect than ever. He barely had time to enjoy this achievement, though, before she sat up and pushed him back.
He landed in one of the visitor chairs. She leaned toward him with a lopsided smile. Dean had a split second to anticipate, his own skin flushing, before she reached for his fly.
"Oh, yes." It came out of his mouth like an oath, low and gritty.
Slowly, teasingly, Kelly drew down his zipper. Dean felt tight enough to burst. Kelly seemed to realize it, too. She pulled back, ratcheting up the anticipation. Then she threw one of those sleek legs over the armrest of Dean's chair. His palm went to her thigh. He could feel the capable muscles there. His own muscles leaped at this indication of female strength. Then with one hand on Dean's shoulder for balance, she threw her other leg over the opposite armrest.
Dean drew in a long breath. She was above him now, open and ready. Oh, his fingers remembered just how ready.
With a faint smirk, she dipped her hand into the tiny pocket of her miniskirt. Dean watched, lashes low, as she pulled forth a slim single-package condom. He almost laughed. Well, at least he didn't have to admit he had one in his front pocket, too. Not because he'd wanted anything to happen between them, but because he'd surrendered to the reality of his own weakness. A weakness he was experiencing in all its glory at that moment.
Indeed, he was beyond self-recrimination as he watched Kelly rip the plastic outer wrap with her teeth. He felt like a powerful engine, a jet revving as it waited to rush down the runway. Dean forced himself to keep waiting, though he hissed out a breath as Kelly rolled the thin plastic down his shaft. Her fingers drove his engine so much the faster. And then she was hiking herself closer along the chair arms. It was time for take-off. Dean took hold of her hips and clenched his teeth.
The feel of her closing over him, tight, hot, wet — He was going to start speeding down the runway. No, he didn't think he could stay still a moment longer.
"Move!" she whispered.
Dean closed his eyes and moved. He moved hard, he moved fast. It was too hard, too fast, but he couldn't stop himself. He was flying down the runway. Only he wanted —
"More," she muttered.
Dean's eyes shot open. Had she read his mind? He grabbed onto her bottom. He pushed harder. But still —
"Deeper." Her voice was a harsh growl.
Dean didn't know how to bring it any deeper, not in the position they were in. Clutching her close, he stood up. Kelly moaned. The sweat popped out in beads on Dean's forehead as, still holding Kelly tight, he laid her flat on the floor.
The carpet was nice and thick, something to sink into. Kelly looked up at him with deliberate challenge and spread her knees wide. Dean arched his back and drove into her.
Oh yes, this was better, definitely closing the connection between them. Dean drove in again and again, urgent to complete the union. Kelly's head moved from one side to the other.
"More," she said.
By this time Dean was pushing her across the floor in six-inch increments. His blood was on fire, every muscle in his body straining with need. Oh, it was as if she'd been made just for his own personal sin.
"More," Kelly demanded.
Her head bumped into the couch, the couch that was on the opposite side of the room from where they'd started. "Deeper," Kelly moaned.
With a sharp hiss, Dean pulled out of her. She moaned again, this time in protest. He ignored that as he took her limp body, lifted it, then bent her forward onto the seat of the leather couch. He pushed her skirt up and drew her panties to the side. She groaned low as he came into her from behind. "Oh yes," she breathed, pushing back. "Yes."
Dean was beyond hearing. The pleasure was excruciating now. He gripped her hips, moving fast, moving hard, taking himself exactly where he wanted to go. He wasn't even thinking about her, except as that part of himself he needed.
Needed.
Finally, he could feel the pleasure come to its absolute crest, the exquisite pain-point of release. At the same moment she seemed to come apart in his hands.
He rode the wave, out of control, rudder-less. Meanwhile his chest expanded to the point he thought it would burst.
My God, Dean thought. My God, my God, my God. Never, ever had he imagined it would be like this, so — so — Murmuring wordlessly, he folded himself over her back and put his arms around to hold her close. Together, they slid to the floor.