by Cindy Kirk
* * *
Growing up in East Los Angeles, Mitzi had plenty of experience with convicts. Her mother had dated many and had even lived with a few of them. Her sister had married one. Or was it two? Such relationships never ended well. Mitzi, who’d been determined to get out of that life and never look back, had never been remotely attracted to someone who’d had trouble with the law.
Of course, Keenan had been sent to prison for a crime he hadn’t committed. That still didn’t mean he was the kind of man she’d be interested in dating.
She wanted a successful man, someone with a lot of drive and ambition. From what she’d heard, Keenan had been living a hedonistic lifestyle before he landed in jail. Still, she enjoyed talking with him. What would be the harm in chatting a little while longer over a crab cake or two?
“Did I offend you with the convict comment?” she asked when he joined her.
“I am a convict.” Keenan shrugged. “I spent time in prison. Granted, I didn’t kill the guy, but I was still convicted and sent away.”
“True.”
On their way to the buffet table, they were stopped every few feet by someone wanting to hug Keenan or offer congratulations.
He handled the attention well, Mitzi noticed. Keenan had an easy charm and a ready smile, but she could feel the tension in the arm she held and knew this light mood wasn’t as effortless for him as it appeared.
“This must be difficult,” she said, when they finally reached the table.
“I’m not used to the social thing anymore,” Keenan said with a slightly abashed look. “But it’s nice knowing so many people care.”
Mitzi wondered if she’d inspire such loyalty, then shoved the thought aside. She had more important things on her mind right now. She slanted a sideways glance at Keenan. “Do you like crab cakes?”
He tilted his head. “Is that a trick question?”
“I want a bite of one but not the whole thing.”
“You could, I don’t know, leave the part you don’t want on your plate.”
Mitzi had spent many years in a household without enough to eat. She could be wasteful in a lot of areas of her life, but food wasn’t one of them. Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head.
His lips twitched. “Since that obviously isn’t an acceptable option, I’ll be a gentleman and help you out.”
With a satisfied smirk, Mitzi dropped a crab cake on the plate. “If you only want a bite of something, I’ll do the same.”
“I’m not a guy who does things halfway.”
Something told her he wasn’t joking.
When he reached for his own plate, she put a hand on his arm, shook her head. “We’ll share.”
Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”
“All the time.” She snatched a deep-fried ball of something from a tray and popped it into her mouth.
Rolling his eyes, he did the same. Chewed. Swallowed. “Tasty.”
“Better than prison food?”
“Much better,” he agreed.
They made their way down the long table, her pointing to something and him shaking his head, then repeating the process with him doing the pointing. By the time they finished, the plate was full.
Though Mitzi had just met Keenan, conversation flowed freely. They didn’t talk about medicine or theater events or fancy wines, but about food and now, cats.
“Mr. Tubs wasn’t anything special.” Keenan finished off the crab cake Mitzi had sliced in half with surgical precision. “But he was a good mouser and smart as a whip. Betsy and I even taught him tricks. Believe me, that wasn’t easy to do.”
Mitzi heard the affection, knew the animal had been special. “I had a cat, Oreo. I found her abandoned in a Dumpster. Like your Tubs, she earned a place in the household by keeping the mice population down.”
“What happened to her?”
Mitzi lifted one shoulder. “She got old. One day we opened the door and she slipped out. I read cats often go away to die. I like to think that’s what happened to her.”
Keenan nodded, lifted a mozzarella stick from the plate.
“What happened to Tubs?”
His lips tightened. “My mother sold him.”
Just the way he said mother told Mitzi there wasn’t any love between them.
“Why did she do that?”
“Like I said, he could do tricks.” Keenan looked down at the mozzarella stick as if trying to figure out what was in his hand. “She needed money for booze. We came home from school and Tubs was gone. She didn’t remember—she said—who bought him. It was...difficult. Betsy was devastated.”
From the look in Keenan’s eyes, his sister hadn’t been the only one. Mitzi took the mozzarella stick from his hand, dropped it onto the plate then set it aside. “Let’s take a walk.”
When they got to the back of the house, he reached around her to open the French doors leading to a deck festively lit with party lights. Couples stood in small, intimate groups talking and laughing under the golden glow from a full moon. The crisp scent of dried leaves mingled with the pungent aroma of evergreen.
After speaking briefly with several friends and getting hugs from a few more, Keenan moved to the rail and inhaled deeply. “So many times I wondered if I’d ever have this again.”
“Well, now you’re back.”
“And starting over.” He paused, shook his head as if clearing it. “That’s inaccurate. I’m beginning the next phase in my life. Out with the old. In with the new.”
That’s exactly how Mitzi had felt when she’d gone to college. Moving on. Leaving the past behind. Except she’d discovered the past often came with you, even without a proper invitation.
“What is that?” Keenan’s question pulled her from her reverie.
Mitzi turned, caught her breath at his nearness. With great effort she forced her attention to where he pointed. Someone had tied a sprig of berries to an overhanging branch. She smiled. “It’s mistletoe.”
Keenan cocked his head, looking perplexed. “Why would mistletoe be hanging from a tree branch in September?”
“It’s kind of a tradition.” Mitzi explained how Travis and Mary Karen had mistletoe at all their parties, regardless of the time of year.
He stared at the berries and waxy green leaves, then lifted a brow.
The moment his eyes touched hers, something inside seemed to lock into place, and Mitzi couldn’t look away. Her lips began to tingle with anticipation. But from the expression of watchful waiting in his eyes, it was clear he wouldn’t make the first move.
Though Keenan McGregor wasn’t someone she could see herself dating, kissing wasn’t dating. It was, well, just kissing.
It could be a glad-you’re-finally-out-of-prison kiss, a way of welcoming him back to Jackson Hole. It didn’t need to be complicated.
Without giving herself time to talk herself out of the impulsive gesture, Mitzi wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his.
Chapter Two
Before her lips could meet his, Keenan gently but firmly moved Mitzi back from him. Her eyes, which had started to close, flew open. “Wha—”
“I didn’t want you to feel obligated.” He gestured with his head toward the berries.
Mitzi rarely blushed, but she recognized the heat crawling up her neck. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had turned away one of her kisses or she’d been so completely impulsive.
Impulsive, most certainly. Completely impulsive, no.
“You’re right.” She flashed him a bright smile. “I don’t know what came over me.”
He skimmed his knuckles down her cheek. “I don’t know what it is, either, but it’s damn enticing.”
The gentle touch reignited the des
ire hovering just below the surface. But darn if she was going to make another move on him.
She didn’t have to because, before Mitzi could utter a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with surprising tenderness. His lips were warm against hers, and he tasted of spearmint.
Confused—and slightly dazed—Mitzi glanced up at him. He must have seen the question in her eyes.
“We kissed,” he said, in a low rumbling tone that made her belly jitter, “because we wanted to kiss. Not because of berries and leaves.”
Which meant she couldn’t blame her response on the mistletoe. Maybe a little on the full moon hanging like a large golden orb in the sky. Or on the intoxicating way he smelled. Or simply because she wanted to see what it was like to kiss an ex-con.
She jerked back at the realization of whom she’d just locked lips with, whom she’d enjoyed locking lips with, whom she wanted to kiss again.
Red flags popped up so fast it made her dizzy. After her football-player fling, Mitzi had promised herself she’d get serious about finding someone appropriate. She’d agonized over the criteria that had to be met before she would consider a guy relationship material.
After all, she had a gene pool trying to pull her down. From the time she was a teenager, she’d found herself drawn to boys who liked having fun a whole lot more than they liked studying. Guys with flash but no substance.
Guys like Keenan McGregor? She didn’t know him well enough to make such a judgment, yet how could she not? It was a self-preservation kind of thing.
Unlike her sister, who now had three kids by three different men, Mitzi’s vision for her future never included struggling for every penny or having a kid before she was out of high school.
She’d stuck to the straight and narrow. Studied, worked hard and got out. Her life was just as she liked it. Mitzi wasn’t going to let anyone—even a handsome ex-con—pull her off course.
* * *
Keenan saw it in the beautiful blue eyes the second she dismissed him. He wasn’t sure why she’d wanted to kiss him—though he knew she had—when he obviously wasn’t her usual kind of guy.
Understanding didn’t stop the twinge of regret that settled like a lump of clay in his belly. Something told him, given the chance, they’d have enjoyed each other’s company.
Keenan reminded himself Mitzi wasn’t the only woman in Jackson Hole. If he was looking for a woman. Which he was not. He’d barely arrived back in town. He hadn’t even had time to unpack the bag sitting in his sister’s guest bedroom.
On Monday, he’d start his construction job. When he got off work, he’d look for a place to stay so he didn’t inconvenience his sister and brother-in-law any further. Despite Ryan and Betsy’s assurance that he was welcome to stay indefinitely, the desire to make his own way, to begin to rebuild the life he’d lost, was a burning need inside him.
“I suppose—” Mitzi began.
“I should mingle.” Keenan shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing a calm tone. He let his gaze skim over her once more then smiled. “It was good getting to know you. Thanks for the welcome-home kiss.”
Before he could embarrass himself by telling her to give him a call if she was ever free or something equally lame, he shot her a wink and sauntered back inside.
* * *
Mitzi watched in stunned disbelief as the man she’d been prepared to brush off opened the French doors and disappeared from view. Her impromptu speech of dismissal had been fully formed on her lips but he’d spoken first.
Irritation bubbled inside her. She clenched her hands into fists. He’d not only walked off, he had the audacity to wink at her.
Well, no man walked away from Mitzi Sanchez in such a cavalier manner. She was going to go inside, seek him out and tell him to his face that—
She paused, even in her anger realizing the irrationality of her plan. What could she say to him that wouldn’t make her sound like a kook? Or worse yet, desperate?
Taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths, Mitzi turned back to the rail and gazed over the lush lawn. Deep in her thoughts, she didn’t immediately notice that her friend, Kate Dennes, now stood beside her.
“You’re quite the party animal tonight.” Kate rested her hands on the rail and cast a sidelong glance in Mitzi’s direction.
“I needed air.”
“I saw you stroll out here with Keenan.” Kate’s expression gave nothing away. “Then he came back inside alone.”
“He wanted to mingle.” Mitzi could have cheered when her voice came out calm and offhand. “I preferred to stay out here a little longer.”
Kate nudged Mitzi with her elbow. “He’s quite a hunk.”
Mitzi lifted a shoulder in a little shrug. “I suppose. If you like the type.”
The smile faded from Kate’s lips. “Type?”
“Arrogant.” The moment the word slipped past Mitzi’s lips, she felt a pang of regret. As if she’d said something bad about a friend. But then she reminded herself that Keenan wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t anything more than a guy she had kissed under a full moon.
Kate inhaled sharply. “I hope that won’t be a problem.”
Mitzi shifted her body toward her friend, cocked her head.
“Joel hired him on the basis of everyone’s recommendation.” Kate chewed on her lip. “Customer service and teamwork is important to him. If Keenan has a bad attitude...”
Mitzi knew there were no secrets between Kate and her contractor husband, Joel. Once Kate was alone with her spouse, she’d share what Mitzi had told her. Keenan would have one strike against him before he even started his new job.
That would be my fault.
“He’s not really arrogant,” Mitzi said quickly, then felt heat rise up her neck at Kate’s assessing look.
“That’s what you said.”
“We kissed then he walked away as if it meant nothing,” Mitzi huffed. “Pissed me off.”
The serious look in Kate’s eyes faded, replaced by something that resembled amusement. “Did you say you kissed him?”
Mitzi scowled. “Is something wrong with your hearing?”
“You just met.”
“Kissed, Kate,” Mitzi sputtered. “I didn’t hop into bed with him.”
Kate searched Mitzi’s eyes then gave a little laugh. “You wanted to.”
Mitzi started to deny it then chuckled. “He’s hot.” She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “Just not my type.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re still focused on that football player.”
Mitzi took a glass of champagne a passing waiter offered, and then enjoyed one delicious sip before answering. “That cheating snake? Get real. I’m not about to chase one mistake with another.”
Kate took a sip from the glass of water she’d brought with her to the deck. “You believe becoming involved with Keenan would be a mistake.”
“He’s an ex-con, Kate.”
“Innocent of all charges.”
“I’m looking for a different kind of man. Someone more like Winn Ferris or...” Mitzi brought a finger to her lips. “Tim Duggan.”
Tim Duggan was a physician in the same OB-GYN practice as their mutual friend, Travis Fisher. A widower with twin girls, the young doctor kept a low profile in the community.
“I like Tim.” Kate spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. “He and I served on a medical-ethics committee together last year, so I got to know him pretty well. I’d be happy to set you up. But I have to say, you and he don’t seem like a particularly good fit.”
“Why?” Mitzi bristled. “Because he went to some Ivy League school and I grew up in East L.A.?”
Something in Kate’s eyes flickered, but her expression didn’t alter. “Because he’s quiet and very family oriented. His life revolves
around his daughters.”
Mitzi considered. Dating a man with kids wouldn’t be her first choice, but she could adjust. “I could be family oriented.”
She didn’t even bother with the “quiet.” Keeping her mouth shut had never been a strength.
“In all the time you’ve lived in Jackson, you’ve never once given Tim a second glance. It doesn’t make sense that all of a sudden you’re hot for him.”
“I’m interested in getting to know him better.” Mitzi’s tone stopped just short of petulant. “I’m tired of dating the wrong men. I’m not getting any younger and I need to focus on quality.”
“Benedict Campbell was quality,” Kate reminded her. “You focused on him for well over a year.”
“Ben was—is—a quality guy,” Mitzi concurred. “But all we did was argue. He’s quite arrogant.”
Kate sipped her water. “Arrogant. There’s that word again.”
“You know he is,” Mitzi insisted.
“Poppy doesn’t seem to think so.” Kate gestured with her head.
Mitzi realized with a start that the couple standing so close together on the far end of the large deck was indeed her former flame and his wife. His arm was wrapped around her waist and her head rested against his shoulder.
“They seem happy together,” Mitzi grudgingly admitted. “What’s the point here? Are you implying I’m the one who’s difficult?”
“I’m saying,” Kate’s tone remained low and even, “that you’ve dated all sorts of men. You simply haven’t found the right one.”
“That’s why I made a list,” Mitzi confided, pleased with herself for taking this proactive step. “Wrote down all the qualities I want in a husband.”
Kate didn’t appear surprised. She probably recalled the lists Mitzi had made all through residency. Lists of manners she needed to master so as to not embarrass herself in public. Lists of things she needed to learn about everything from wine to art.
“What kept Keenan McGregor off the list?”
Mitzi took another sip of champagne. The qualities that she’d listed had been well thought out and valid. Yet, somehow, the thought of saying them aloud made her uneasy.
