Marriage by Mistake

for herself. All she could do was...move on. Put Dean Singleton and her bad judgment behind her.
    Next time she'd be smarter. Next time she'd find out for sure whether or not the guy really loved her.
    Kelly sniffled, rubbed her nose, and bent to snag the green sweatshirt off the floor. The simple act made her feel better. A crumb cake, Kelly decided. She almost smiled as she mashed the sweatshirt into a ball.
    Tomorrow she'd ask the girls for the crumb cake. With her boots pinching, Kelly limped toward her bedroom. A good crumb cake ought to clean Dean Singleton right out of her system.
    ~~~
    Seated in a rental car parked in a lot behind one of the biggest hotels in Las Vegas, Dean lifted his wrist and checked his watch. According to the private detective's report, Kelly—yes, that was her name, Kelly—would be getting out of her required workout just about now.
    Dean lowered his wrist. He'd been surprised to learn the number of hours Kelly put in at her job. It was clear she was in a show that demanded real dancing and not a simple display of physical attributes. In fact, according the detective's report it was family oriented, no nudity. That made Dean feel marginally better.
    Not completely better, of course. He still couldn't believe the cold facts of the matter, all he'd done his two lost days. The whole affair was so pathetically tawdry. But at least he was facing it now, dealing with the consequences. Part of that involved sitting here, waiting to speak to the woman who had not, after all, been hired by cousin Troy to interrupt his vice presidents meeting.
    Dean looked out the car window and chewed the inside of his cheek. This was duty. The sooner he got to it, the better.
    Suiting action to words, he clicked his car door open. Desert air hit him as he unfolded from the car. Cool for Vegas in May, but warm for a New Englander. He took a moment to adjust to the temperature, then shut the car door and straightened his tie. With a deep breath, he started through the parked cars toward the gym door.
    His palms sweated and his neck felt stiff. Everything depended on his doing this right; his sense of honor, his self-respect—everything.
    He slowed when he saw the crowd. About a dozen women, hair bands and sweat suits, gathered in the parking lot around the back of a car. They were laughing and excited. Among them Dean saw Kelly. That's when his feet stopped. Partially hidden behind a red Bronco, Dean stared his fill.
    Kelly's hair was loosely bound in a ponytail high on top of her head and she was dressed just as sloppily as everybody else, in a sweat jacket with the sleeves pushed up, but Dean felt the wind knocked out of him all the same. There was something about her, the way she stood, an angle of head—it simply cried out: sex .
    He hadn't expected that. For some reason, he hadn't thought the same reaction would assail him now that had hit him in his office on Monday. Dean drew in a deep, slow breath. He could handle this, get past it. He could still prove that he was not just like his father.
    Meanwhile Kelly took control of the crowd. "Now, now," she called, raising her hands. "Calm yourselves, girls."
    "But you said you were ready," complained a woman in a purple jogging suit.
    "So blow him out," a redhead in shorts recommended.
    Dean frowned, peering to see what they were talking about. A sheet cake was laid on the back of a car. Thanks to the angle of the car's trunk he could see the orange-frosted concoction was cut in the shape of a human figure. A single candle was stuck in just the right place to create an anatomically correct male figure.
    The women in the parking lot laughed. A few jumped up and down. "Blow!" came the cry. That's when understanding finally hit Dean. His face went red.
    Kelly, her attention on her comrades, was shaking her head, smirking, and clearly milking the situation for all it was worth.
    "Blow! Blow! Blow!"
    Kelly patted the air with her hands, then drew in a deep breath and blew the candle out.
    There were cheers and a few whistles.
    "Now slice him up!" someone shouted.
    "Bloodthirsty," Kelly scolded, but she had no trouble accepting a huge kitchen knife that was handed her way. Indeed, she lifted it high.
    Dean couldn't help flinching when her blade hit the cake man.
    "And this one's yours." One of the women picked up the piece with the candle still stuck in it.
    Kelly bit the tip of her finger. "Oh no, I couldn't."
    "You already did," somebody called out.
    There was