Marriage by Mistake

anger would burn through again. She wasn't that stupid. Oh, she'd let men feed her some pretty incredible lines, but she wasn't about to eat this one. Hypnotized.
    And to think she was married to him!
    In her cramped airplane seat, Kelly grimaced. Unfortunately, she had to recall that she'd been the one to bring up marriage. After her last disastrous relationship, with a musician who'd strung her on for months without committing, she'd decided to go back to basics, back to the values with which she'd been raised. She'd decided she could no longer go to bed with a man unless he was her husband.
    Last Saturday night in the back seat of her car and locked in a hot, wet kiss with Dean, the temptation had been strong to abandon this quaint little policy. He'd felt so good around her; his arms so strong, his hands so clever.
    But Kelly had forced herself out of her sensual haze. Panting, she'd pushed back from Dean. The look in his eyes then— Oh, not disappointed, not angry, but stricken . Yes, he'd looked as if her pulling away hurt as much as a blow.
    So Kelly had explained the problem. She'd been terrified he would laugh. She was a Las Vegas dancer, after all. She wasn't loose, but hardly a virgin. So—holding out for marriage? She'd expected an argument, persuasions.
    Instead Dean had given her one long, intense look—and then asked her to marry him.
    At the time, oh!— Kelly had thought it so romantic. Sure, she hadn't believed him at first. But Dean had talked fast. He'd talked hard. And he'd truly seemed to be absolutely, positively serious. He'd been so serious he'd made Kelly feel that way, too. As if they were meant to be together, not just for that night but for forever.
    Serious! All he'd been serious about was getting her into bed.
    Kelly's anger kept her going through the plane flight, the landing, and a cab ride home. By the time she got to her apartment, however, it all began to catch up to her. She hadn't slept the night before, or the night before that. She was worn to the bone.
    At the front door, her key wobbled in the lock. "Come on, come on," Kelly muttered. "Don't get picky on me now." The tumblers caught and she pushed the door open.
    She nearly tripped on the pale green sweatshirt trailed across the threshold.
    "Oh, no," she whispered. She could feel the muscles of her face contort as she kicked the sweatshirt to one side. She remembered, too well, how it had gotten there. After the wedding, they'd both been laughing, giddy with the gamble they'd taken. Married, after a courtship of only two days. Dean had pressed her against the door. "Now," he'd crowed, nuzzling her. His hands had lifted the hem of Kelly's sweatshirt. "Now I'm allowed to take this off."
    Kelly fell back against the same door. Her purse dropped and she threw her hands over her eyes. She'd promised herself she wasn't going to cry over him, not over some rock-bottom worm like that, but she could feel the hot moisture building anyway, could feel the spasms starting in her chest.
    What had she been thinking to fly out to Boston? Had she expected to get the better of such a super-class bum?
    Well, yes, she had imagined that. And something even worse.
    She'd imagined—oh, she hated to admit it, even to herself—but she'd imagined, deep down in the most naïve part of herself, that he was going to be happy to see her. Yes! She'd dreamed he was going to have some magical explanation to take away the hurt of what he'd done. His betrayal was going to vanish into thin air.
    In one, secret, wishful part of herself, she'd envisioned him flying home with her on the plane.
    Stupid. Utterly delusional and stupid.
    All Dean had wanted in Boston was to see the back of her—forever. And he hadn't cared how much more he had to hurt her to achieve that result.
    Kelly hiccupped painfully. Lord, she'd been brought up better than this, better than to accept less than complete commitment and respect. Her minister father and his devoted wife, her mother, had given Kelly a glorious example of a truly loving relationship. It certainly wasn't their fault Kelly was failing completely in the romance department.
    She was almost— almost —glad they were no longer alive to see what a mess she'd made of her own 'marriage.'
    Kelly allowed herself one last sob, then gave her head a brisk shake. All right. Enough. She'd made her mistake in insisting on a ring, and then compounded it by flying out to Boston. It didn't accomplish anything now to feel sorry