His lips thinned. "I'm not 'saying it.' It's true."
Their eyes met, and locked. Never had Kelly met a crumb who could look so sincere. Sincere? He looked positively annoyed.
"Uh huh," she said, confused. Why was he annoyed?
His next remark answered that. "Believe me or not, Miss Williams, but we are legally wed. That gives us matters to discuss." He looked at her, implacable.
Kelly stared back at him, uncomprehending. Then it hit her. The divorce. "Oh," she said. He was sincere, all right. Sincere in his desire to get rid of her. She squelched a ridiculous little pang beneath her breastbone. This fellow wasn't the man she'd once believed him to be, not the sweet and tender love of her life. It was okay, it was good, to put an end to this.
"Matters," she said. "Fine. Wonderful."
His gaze averted. "I have a place we can be private."
###
Kelly had to admit herself impressed. He was all prepared. In the hotel, he'd reserved a conference room for their little meeting, with scattered sofas, end tables, and lamps. Formal, impersonal, and the message clear: neutral territory.
She strode in ahead of him, reassured. Neither emotions nor passion would get involved here. This was, indeed, simply business. And simply business was all Kelly wanted it to be. Handsome as he was, the man still wasn't admitting he even knew her. A crumb to the end.
"Please," he said, indicating a pink-striped sofa. "Have a seat."
Kelly glanced at him. His expression was cool, calm, even pleasant. A crumb with impeccable manners. With her fists clenched in her jacket pockets, she sat.
Dean moved with easy grace to a red floral chair to one side. He picked up a briefcase and set it on the coffee table between them.
So, Kelly thought, he already had the papers drawn up. Quite...foresightful. And quite unlike the man she'd known. That, apparently, had been one big, fat masquerade.
But whatever. All she had to do was sign. She did not lean back against the sofa cushions. Why, she'd be out of here, done with the whole humiliating episode in minutes.
Dean set one hand atop the leather briefcase. "I understand you don't believe me about the hypnosis, or about forgetting everything that happened during the ensuing two days. But I wonder if you wouldn't mind...humoring me for a few minutes."
"Um. What?"
He opened the clasps of the briefcase with a simultaneous click. "I'd like to know what I did for two days. You could help with the answers to a few simple questions."
Kelly chewed the inside of her cheek. She was supposed to humor him? To what end? "Well, I don't — What's that?" He'd drawn some sheets of double-folded paper from his case.
"This is my credit card report, starting with the plane tickets I bought Friday evening." He shook it open. "The first item I don't understand is a place called 'Nat's.'" He looked over at her.
Kelly looked back. Did he really think she wanted to play this game? And why? She wasn't going to fight a divorce.
His brows rose. "Bar?"
Kelly's breath rushed out. She didn't go out to bars with men she met after the show!
He tilted his head. "You're just humoring me, remember? Not admitting my story's true or anything."
"It's a diner," Kelly blurted, as if he didn't know that perfectly well himself. They'd sat over the same pair of free refill coffees for three hours. He'd smiled at her as they'd talked and talked, a smile all slow and tender. She'd begun to melt, thinking he really cared. Yeah, right. Just showed how much she knew.
Dean's eyes went back down to his sheet. "A diner. That sounds pedestrian enough. But what about this sailboat? I rented a sailboat in Las Vegas?"
"No, that was Lake Mead." Kelly snapped her mouth shut. What was she doing? He had to know they'd spent the day on the lake, just lazing and looking up at the blue, blue sky. He had to remember they'd shared their first kiss in the shadow of a narrow river canyon. The boat had rocked beneath them. And so, she'd thought, had her world.
"Pardon me. Lake Mead. That should have shown up on the printout." He frowned down at the paper. "We got there awfully early."
"We drove through the night."
He shot her a penetrating look. "I...see."
Kelly felt her eyes widen. "We drove," she said firmly. "Besides, we weren't married yet." But she supposed he'd 'forgotten' that, too. Forgotten her stammered explanation of her no-sex-without-marriage policy, forgotten his serene acceptance of her restriction, followed by his own, incredible proposal.
Apparently so, for his gaze went back down to his paper printout and his voice went dry. "Oh, yes. Our wedding, held at the Little Chapel of the Dawn. My investigator confirms: all perfectly legal. I even bought you a ring and — " His implacable face suddenly reddened. "Party favors."