“If I did come, it would be because I’m hungry. And because I haven’t had … pizza … in weeks.”

“Understood.” He hadn’t had … pizza … in years, either.

“It wouldn’t be a date,” Mitzi said quickly. “And I won’t allow you to pay my share.”

“Hmm.” Keenan rubbed his chin. “I don’t recall offering.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. She didn’t even crack a smile. “I’ll be blunt. I’m not looking for a relationship with you.”

“Sheesh, Mitzi.” Keenan lifted his hands, palms out. “Way to blow a simple invite into the stratosphere.”

She blew out a breath. “As long as we understand each other.”

Though she did a good job of hiding it, he saw the desire lurking in her eyes. Ah, yes, they understood each other. Quite well, in fact.

He fixed his gaze on her, let it drop and linger on her breasts before returning to her lips. “I know exactly what I want.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, tonight what you’re going to get is pizza.”

* * *

Rx For Love: Just following doctor’s orders …

The Husband List

Cindy Kirk

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CINDY KIRK has loved to read for as long as she can remember. In first grade she received an award for reading one hundred books. As she grew up, summers were her favorite time of year. Nothing beat going to the library, then coming home and curling up in front of the window air conditioner with a good book. Often the novels she read would spur ideas, and she’d make up her own story (always with a happy ending). When she’d go to bed at night, instead of counting sheep she’d make up more stories in her head. Since selling her first story to Mills & Boon in 1999, Cindy has been forced to juggle her love of reading with her passion for creating stories of her own … but she doesn’t mind. Writing for the Mills & Boon® Cherish™ series is a dream come true. She only hopes you have as much fun reading her books as she has writing them!

Cindy invites you to visit her website, www.cindykirk.com.

To my NIA buddies.

You make getting up early to exercise a true pleasure!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter One

The home in the mountains, decorated for fall, now included a banner above the fireplace proclaiming Welcome Home, Keenan. Across the room, a large buffet table held generous portions of everything from brisket to wedges of key lime pie. Travis Fisher and his wife, Mary Karen, had pulled out all the stops for this welcome-home party. Or rather, a get-out-of-prison celebration.

Waiters in black pants and crisp white shirts circulated throughout the house holding silver trays with hors d’oeuvres and champagne.

Dr. Mitzi Sanchez turned down the dumplings and baby quiche then took a glass of wine from a passing waiter before stepping into a secluded alcove to study the scene before her. Since moving to Wyoming three years ago, she’d been to a lot of parties in Jackson Hole.

While it appeared most in attendance had come with someone, she’d arrived alone. Her last guy, an NFL football player, had been more of a fling. But even in a casual relationship she required monogamy, and that hadn’t been in Kelvin’s playbook.

Across the room she saw her associate, Dr. Benedict Campbell, and his wife, Poppy. Of all her relationships, he’d lasted the longest. While on paper they should have been perfect for each other, they’d argued constantly. After they broke up, he’d begun dating Poppy and was now a happily married man with an adorable baby boy.

She didn’t want a baby—not quite ready for that commitment—but she would like to be happily-with-someone. Mitzi heaved a sigh.

“That’s quite a sigh.”

She turned toward the sexy baritone and her heart stuttered. With hair the color of rich mahogany and hazel eyes that tended toward green, Mitzi found the man’s square jaw and strong features pleasing. He smelled of soap and a familiar warm male scent that made something tighten low in her abdomen.

“Hel-lo.” Mitzi widened her smile and let the word hum between them.

Because Keenan McGregor—the man they were welcoming home—had grown up in Jackson Hole, Travis had invited friends from his school years. Many of whom Mitzi had never met.

Still, Mitzi thought she knew every attractive man in Jackson Hole. “How did I miss seeing you?”

“You were too busy ogling the buffet table.”

“I was not—” she began, then stopped when a dimple flashed in his left cheek. The rat was teasing her.

“Actually I was checking out who was here.” She lowered her voice as she spoke, forcing him to lean close. Mitzi saw his eyes darken as he inhaled the sultry scent of her new perfume.

She took a sip of champagne. This party might be fun, after all. She batted her lashes then extended her hand. “Mitzi Sanchez.”

His hand closed around hers and she felt a jolt. She glanced up, stunned by her response. But if he’d experienced the same sizzle it didn’t show.

“A pretty name for a very pretty woman.”

Though it was a compliment any reasonably attractive woman would hear in a bar any night of the week, he offered it up with such sincerity, Mitzi felt herself smiling back. When his gaze slowly slid down her body, the earlier sizzle ignited into a full-out electrical fire.

Too fast, Mitzi told herself. Take a step back. They’d been words to live by and had kept her from making a few disastrous mistakes through the years.

Deliberately, she shifted her gaze to where their pretty blonde hostess, Mary Karen, stood surrounded by friends, talking animatedly with both hands. Instead of her normal jeans and sweater, MK looked adorable in a royal blue sweater dress with a shawl neckline.

Mary Karen had told everyone the party would be casual. For this crowd that meant anything from jeans to fall dresses and heels. Though the hunk beside her looked mouthwateringly good in Wranglers and a wheat-colored sweater, Mitzi enjoyed dressing up almost as much as she liked changing her hair.

For tonight’s event, she’d chosen a corduroy skirt in camel and a crisp cotton shirt in pumpkin spice. Her hair, which changed color so much she couldn’t quite recall the original shade, was blond tonight with streaks the color of peanut butter. In a whimsical mood, she’d pulled the sides back and secured the strands with two of her favorite clips.

“You have bones in your hair.”

Feeling more in control, Mitzi turned back to him and gave a throaty laugh. “They’re femurs.”

“Why do you have femurs in your hair?”

“I’m an orthopedic surgeon,” Mitzi explained. “I found these hair clips at an eclectic little boutique in L.A. I pull them out for special occasions.”

He took a sip of the drink in his hand, which looked like water but may have been vodka. Shadows played in his eyes, making them unreadable. “Tonight is special?”

“It is for Keenan McGregor. The guy got a get-out-of-jail-free card after being convicted of manslaughter.” Mitzi lifted her glass of champagne as if making a toast. “A cause for celebration if I ever heard one. Don’t you agree?”

“Definitely.” His lips curved slightly upward. “An orthopedic surgeon? My arm was broken when I was ten so I guess we have that in common.”

Even with a glass of champagne in her hand and a handsome man at her side, Mitzi still wore her doctor’s hat. He’d said his arm was broken rather than he broke his arm. If he’d been a child, the wording would have put her on alert. But the man before her was definitely no boy.

“The last thing I want to do when I come to a party is talk about medicine. Let’s chat about something more interesting.” She stepped closer. “Such as you.”

He didn’t retreat, merely took another sip of his drink. “I’m not all that interesting.”

Oh, but he was. His rugged good looks and confident demeanor called to her in a primal way and made her determined to uncover all his secrets.

Unable to resist touching him for one more second, Mitzi looped a hand through his arm. “You’re just being modest. C’mon, tell me something about yourself.”

“I love to fly.”

“Are you a pilot?”

“I was.” His eyes turned dark. “I’m working on getting my license back. That’s at the top of my list.”

Mitzi thought of her own list, the one she’d compiled just that morning. After years of playing the field, she was finally ready to settle down. Her list detailed essential characteristics she required in a husband. No more wasting time dating the wrong kind of men. “I have one of those.”

“A pilot’s license?”

The question flummoxed her. Then she chuckled. “No. A list.”

“What’s on yours?”

“Nuh-uh.” She waggled a finger at him. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. I don’t even know your name.”

“Tell me one thing first.” His slow, easy smile did strange things to her insides. “How do you happen to be at this party? You’re not from Jackson Hole.”

“I’m from California.” Not about to be distracted, Mitzi steered the conversation back to him. “I take it you’re from here?”

He nodded, shifted his gaze from her.

“Since you were invited, you must know Keenan.”

Those beautiful hazel eyes returned to her. “Extremely well.”

“Point him out.” Mitzi tightened her grip on his arm. “I’ve been trying to figure out which one he is but it’s difficult. I know Betsy, but some siblings don’t resemble each other.”

She thought of her sister, who looked one hundred percent like their Mexican mother, while Mitzi took after her Argentinean father with her blue eyes and fair complexion.

“True enough.” He brushed back a lock of hair that fell sexily across his forehead.

Her body began to thrum. Mitzi had to force her eyes from his face to scan the crowd. “Can I see him from where I’m standing?”

“You can.”

“Tell me.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Which one is the convict?”

He tipped her chin up with his finger until her eyes met his. “You’re looking at him.”

* * *

For a fraction of a second, Mitzi’s blue eyes widened. Then, she laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Keenan wasn’t sure why he found the conversation amusing, but he did. “I’d show you my driver’s license but it expired when I was in prison.”

She was a pretty thing, and unlike any doctor he’d ever known. Not that he ran in that crowd. Or rather, he hadn’t in the past. Coming back to Jackson Hole, it had surprised him that so many of his boyhood pals were now important members of the medical community.

“You’re not Keenan McGregor.” Though she spoke boldly, confidently, the uncertainty in her eyes told him she wasn’t so sure. “You’re making it up.”

“Travis.” He gestured his friend over.

The popular ob-gyn, tall and lean with sandy-colored hair and a perpetual smile, sauntered toward them.

Travis had been one of a group of men who’d worked tirelessly for Keenan’s release and provided money for his legal fees. Though his friends insisted he didn’t owe them a dime, Keenan had vowed to repay every penny, no matter how long it took.

“I see you’ve met Mitzi.” Travis’s smile broadened to include the woman at his side.

“We’re getting acquainted.” Keenan shot Mitzi a wink. “I was just telling her I don’t have a driver’s license since mine expired while I was in prison.”

“You’re going to need one.” Travis rocked back on his heels. “I understand you’ll be working with Joel while you get back on your feet.”

Although Keenan had only recently met Travis’s friend, Joel had offered him a job with his construction company. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

Travis’s eyes took on a distant look. “You were always fooling around with wood or engines when we were growing up.”

Out of necessity, Keenan thought with a wry smile. He’d had to keep the old jalopy he’d driven running, and if he hadn’t done repairs to the dump of a house where they’d lived, it would have fallen in around them.

“Thanks for the party, Trav.” Keenan gestured toward the room filled with family and old friends. “You and Mary Karen went to a lot of trouble to pull this together.”

“We’re happy to have you back.” The sincerity in Travis’s eyes humbled Keenan. He’d done little to deserve such loyalty. “If you need anything, anything at all—”

“You’ve done enough already.” Keenan clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

They talked for another minute before Travis left to answer a catering question. It wasn’t until after he disappeared into the crowd that Keenan turned back to Mitzi, who’d been messing with her smartphone while undoubtedly listening to every word. “Satisfied?”

Instead of looking abashed, she grinned. “You were right.”

“About being me?”

“I had my doubts.” Mitzi looked him up and down, sizing him up. “You and Betsy don’t really look alike.”

Before he could respond, she spun on her heel. “I’m getting something to eat. Perhaps snag more champagne. I’m not on call so I’m allowing myself two glasses this evening.”

Keenan used to drink, quite a bit during high school and even more during the following years. Then he quit. Not because alcohol was a problem for him, but because he didn’t want it to become one.

He watched the pretty doctor saunter off and felt a stab of disappointment. Hanging out with her had been fun...while it lasted.

“Hey.” Mitzi turned, cast a challenging glance over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”

* * *

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 desire 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.

She reminded herself she hadn’t gotten to where she was in life by caring what other people thought.

“Successful.” Mitzi met Kate’s gaze. “I want a man who’s achieved a certain measure of success by the time he’s reached his thirties. While I admit Keenan is good-looking and charming, he’s certainly not, by anyone’s measure, a success.”

“You’re wrong.”

Mitzi whirled.

Betsy Harcourt, Keenan’s sister, stood so close it was obvious that while Mitzi had kept her voice deliberately low, the woman had heard every word.

Mitzi flinched. “I didn’t mean for you—”

“Don’t.” With a finger pointed directly at Mitzi, Betsy spoke, her voice snapping like a whip. “Don’t say another word.”

Stunned, Mitzi obeyed. This was a side to the sweet and docile paralegal she’d never seen. The sprinkle of freckles across Betsy’s nose now stood like angry pennies against the pallor of her skin.

“You’re wrong about Keenan. Dead wrong. My brother is a success. Perhaps he doesn’t have a shiny red sports car or a big house in Spring Gulch, but he’s successful in the ways that matter.” Betsy’s eyes flashed a warning when Mitzi started to open her mouth.

“Keenan raised me when he was only a kid himself. Never did he make me feel like a burden. He went to prison to protect me. Gave up his freedom for me.” Betsy brought her clenched fist to her chest. “If you can’t see that Keenan is a special guy, then I’m telling you...stay away from him. He deserves only good things—and good people—in his life.”

Tears welled in Betsy’s blue eyes. Before they could fall, the brunette blinked them back and straightened her shoulders. She shifted her focus to Kate, who stood slack-jawed at Mitzi’s side. “Mary Karen needs to speak with you.”

“I’ll be right in,” Kate responded when she finally found her voice, but Betsy had already spun on her heel and was headed inside.

Sighing, Mitzi bit her lip. “That was awful.”

Kate nodded. “I’m afraid it’s only going to get more so, at least for you.”

Mitzi cocked her head.

“The man you were just told to steer clear of is going to be the one trimming out your new home.”

Chapter Three

Keenan glanced around the family room of the gracious home in the Spring Gulch subdivision of Jackson Hole. At just over 2,100 square feet, Mitzi’s home might not be as large as some, but the spacious interior and the stone and brick exterior was appealing and surprisingly cozy.

After spending the morning raising rafters on a house in the mountains, he was sent by Joel to help Bill on Mitzi’s home. It was the first Keenan had seen of the place. “It’s a beauty.”

“Turning out pretty nice.” Balding and somewhere in his fifties, the foreman reminded Keenan of an accountant.

Buckling on the tool belt Joel had lent him, Keenan studied the French doors leading to a vaulted screened porch. Though he thought the house was still an awful lot of space for one person, he admired the efficiency of the floor plan. “For some reason I thought Mitzi, er, Dr. Sanchez, had a condo.”

“She bought a place in Teton Village about a year ago. Apparently she didn’t like it.” Bill shrugged. “Being an orthopedic surgeon, the lady has money to burn.”

Money to burn.

Keenan wondered what that would be like. Right now he’d be satisfied with enough cash to last until his next paycheck.

“Does she come around much?” He kept his tone casual.

“Every couple of days she drives up in that little red BMW M6.” Bill sanded a piece of trim. “Friendly enough. Stays just long enough to check on the progress. Sometimes asks a few questions. That’s about it. She’s a real looker.”

“She certainly is.”

Curiosity sparked in the older man’s eyes. “You acquainted?”

“We met recently.” Keenan measured a piece of molding and made a quick cut with the miter box. “She knows people I know.”

“Gabe and Joel are both married to doctors.”

Keenan was well aware of that fact. Joel, owner of Stone Craft Builders, was married to Mitzi’s good friend, Kate. He’d briefly met Gabe Davis, the construction engineer who was Joel’s second in command. Keenan hadn’t yet met Gabe’s wife, Michelle, another local doctor.

“Speak of the devil.” Bill brushed some of the sawdust off his pants and straightened.

Keenan followed Bill’s gaze out the front window and saw a car pull to a stop in the driveway. Mitzi got out and straightened a skirt the color of the Wyoming sky, modest but short enough to reveal an enticing expanse of tanned and toned thighs.

Keenan wasn’t sure if it was the legs or the cream-colored sweater hugging her generous curves that made his insides jiggle like the gelatin Betsy served for dessert last night.

He frowned. What was it about Mitzi that made him feel like some geeky teen crushing on the school’s head cheerleader?

Best not to delve too deeply into that muddy pool, he told himself. What mattered was the last time they were together he’d brushed off the gorgeous doctor. He’d done to her before she could do to him. The realization that he hadn’t let his attraction to her tie him into knots buoyed his courage. When the front door opened and Mitzi stepped inside, the smile he shot her was easy.

Her own smile flashed warm and friendly. If she felt any discomfort over seeing him again, it didn’t show.

“Dr. Sanchez.” Bill stepped forward. As the job site foreman, working with the client was his responsibility when Joel or Gabe wasn’t there. “We’re making good progress.”

“C’mon, Bill. Please call me Mitzi.” She slanted a sideways glance at Keenan. “Hello, again.”

Keenan touched the brim of his ball cap. “Ma’am.”

She frowned then turned from him in dismissal. Her imperious gaze swept the room.

He tried to see the home through her eyes: the massive stone fireplace with hand-carved mantel against one wall, twelve-foot ceilings that pulled the eyes upward, creating a feeling of openness. Whoever had drawn up the plans had done a superb job of contrasting warmth and comfort with understated elegance.

“I’m going to wander.” She waved a hand. “Don’t let me disturb you.”

“I can show you—” Bill began then glanced down as the phone clipped to his belt buzzed. He lifted it, grimaced. “I’m afraid I need to take this. Keenan can point out what we’ve finished up today.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’m happy to do it,” Keenan said smoothly, catching Bill’s look.

Mitzi must have noticed it too, because she didn’t protest further.

“Bill set the countertop this morning.” He gestured with one hand as they entered the kitchen area. Keenan pointed out several other accomplishments Bill had mentioned when he’d first arrived.

Though Mitzi listened intently, she didn’t say much. But as the tour continued, he understood by the way her gaze kept flitting to him and lingering that lust had punched her, too. Desire, hot as a fired-up grill, snapped and sizzled in the air.

She might be determined to push him away—as he was with her—but he’d stake his life she was fighting a losing battle with the pull.

No guts. No glory.

His former mantra rose up and slapped him in the face.

“Do you have plans for dinner?” Keenan heard himself ask when they paused at the door to the last of the three bedrooms.

Her head swiveled.

“I was thinking of stopping by Perfect Pizza tonight.” He gave a careless shrug. Just because he’d succumbed to the urge didn’t mean he’d beg. “Interested?”

Mitzi slid a hand along the recently sanded doorjamb and his mouth went dry.

Okay, maybe he’d consider begging.

“Interested?” She lifted a brow. “In what?”

In pushing up that sweater and letting me fill my hands with your breasts.

In tugging that scrap of skirt down and exploring with my mouth and tongue what lies beneath.

Heck, yes, he was interested.

Keenan took a moment to collect himself. “Pizza, of course.”

“I’m not sure us having dinner is a good idea.”

Keenan understood. Right now his own gut roiled. But standing back and letting life happen had never been his style. He gave a little chuckle. “You’re afraid.”

“Don’t be silly.” She huffed. “I’m not afraid of anything. Or anyone.”

He clucked like a chicken, a noise straight from childhood. It had infuriated Betsy when he’d used it on her as a kid. From the flash of temper in Mitzi’s eyes, it had the same effect on her.

“Have you considered,” she said between gritted teeth, “that I simply may not want to share a pizza with you but am too polite to say so?”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “Chicken.”

Her lips twitched upward. Just once.

“If I did come,” she began, waving one hand loosely in the air, “it would be because I’m hungry. And because I haven’t had...pizza...in weeks.”

“Understood.” He hadn’t had...pizza...in years, either.

“It wouldn’t be a date,” she said quickly. “And I won’t allow you to pay my share.”

“Hmm.” Keenan rubbed his chin. “I don’t recall offering.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. She didn’t even crack a smile. “I’ll be blunt. I’m not looking for a relationship with you.”

“Sheesh, Mitzi.” Keenan lifted his hands, palms out. “Way to blow a simple invite into the stratosphere.”

She blew out a breath. “As long as we understand each other.”

Though she did a good job of hiding it, he saw the desire lurking in her eyes. Ah, yes, they understood each other. Quite well, in fact.

He fixed his gaze on her, let it drop and linger on her breasts before returning to her lips. “I know exactly what I want.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, tonight what you’re going to get is pizza.”

He hid a grin, wondering if Mitzi realized that instead of slamming the door shut, she’d left it slightly ajar.

* * *

Mitzi told herself if she didn’t find a parking space on the first pass through downtown, she’d head to Hill of Beans, pick up a nice Cobb salad and take it home to eat.

As she sped down Main, an Escalade eased from the curb, leaving a space big enough for the entire state of Utah. Yet, even after she pulled into the spot, Mitzi made no move to get out.

When she’d left Keenan and Bill at her new home, it hadn’t even been five. Now it was nearly seven. She’d had plenty of time to consider Keenan’s dinner challenge. Even as she showered and changed her clothes, the red flags waving wildly in the air urged her to turn tail and run. It wouldn’t be wise to meet him.

Not for pizza. Certainly not for sex.

Though if she was being totally honest, she’d have to admit to one or two lascivious thoughts when she’d seen him with that tool belt slung low across his hips and a white T-shirt stretched broad across his muscular chest.

Perhaps that’s why she was here. To prove to herself she could still handle temptation. If she ever did hop into bed with him—and that was a mighty big if—it would be a rational decision, made after much thought.

It would be foolish and shortsighted to cast aside the option entirely. Her husband hunt could take time. Until she found someone who met her criteria, her choice was either to remain celibate or snatch a few moments of pleasure where she could find it.

It wasn’t as if either she or Keenan would be using each other. Not if they both hopped into bed knowing it was only a physical thing. But tonight, the only thing on the menu was pizza.

Reassured, Mitzi headed for the restaurant.

* * *

Keenan spotted Mitzi before she saw him. Like him she wore jeans and a simple cotton shirt. But with heeled sandals and designer bag, the pretty doctor looked anything but casual. In fact, with her hair tousled around her face, she looked like a stylish socialite who’d just tumbled out of bed after an afternoon of lovemaking.

In all his years as an adult male, Keenan couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman the way he wanted Mitzi. When she drew close, his body began to hum. It wasn’t just out-of-prison hormones but something deeper.

The tiny hairs at the base of his neck rose and electricity crackled in the air. Even knowing she didn’t find him suitable for a “relationship” wasn’t enough to quell the attraction.

That didn’t mean he planned to sleep with her. Despite the teasing offer he’d extended, his years in the penitentiary had given him plenty of time to think. More important, time to assess where he came from and where he wanted to be headed.

Most of his life had been spent reacting, batting cleanup for his mother’s wrong choices. Gloria’s wild mood shifts, fueled by alcohol, had made a stable home life impossible. Still, for Betsy’s sake, Keenan had tried.

He’d made dinner, even if it was only hot dogs or mac and cheese from a box. When a teacher had commented on the cleanliness of his clothes and he saw concern in her eyes, Keenan had figured out how to run the washer. He’d forced Betsy to take a shower every night and made her brush her hair before she left the house.

Keenan may not have had designer jeans or a closetful of clothes like most of his friends, but he and his sister were clean and stayed under the social service radar.

He knew some of the girls in his class considered him beneath them because he didn’t have the cool car or the right clothes. Others had wanted him because of his bad-boy image. In their own way, both were snubs. Both had scraped bone. He’d assuaged pent-up fury with explosive contact during football games and later by participating in extreme sports.

Though he’d started to turn his life around before he was charged with murder, it was his prison counselor who helped him get his head straight.

She’d taught him to value his strengths, to not settle for less than he deserved. Keenan knew that being with a woman who considered him less than her, no matter how great the sex, would be settling.

When his body began to vibrate as Mitzi drew near, Keenan reminded himself that tonight only one thing was on the menu...pizza.

Chapter Four

Other than a group of giggly preteens and their parents, Perfect Pizza, a popular eatery in downtown Jackson, was surprisingly quiet. After placing their order at the counter, Mitzi picked up the table flag and plastic utensils. Keenan carried the glasses of soda to a series of wooden booths with high backs that lined the back wall.

Once seated, conversation flowed surprisingly easily. By the time the pizza was delivered to their table by a teenager in the throes of a war on acne, Mitzi had begun to relax.

Mitzi hesitated, not certain if she should eat the pizza with a fork or just pick it up. If she was alone she usually just picked up the slice.

When Keenan lifted his piece in one hand and took a bite, she relaxed and did the same.

The blend of herbs and spices, not to mention a generous artery-clogging supply of cheese, came together in something that could only be called delicious.

“I’m glad you like anchovies. Most people can’t stand them,” Keenan murmured, gazing at the large pie covered with the tiny fish on the table between them.

“They don’t know what they’re missing.” Mitzi let the slice hover just beyond her lips then took another bite.

“That’s true of most things in life,” Keenan said, sounding surprisingly philosophical. “We don’t try something because we don’t think it will be good for us. Or we convince ourselves we won’t like it even though we haven’t tried it.”

Mitzi pulled her brows together, unconvinced. “I don’t have to go to prison to know I wouldn’t like it.”

The second the words left her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. It certainly wasn’t her intent to keep ramming the fact that he’d spent the past few years behind bars down his throat.

Keenan took another bite of pizza, chewed. “You’re right. Some things are no-brainers.”

Though his tone was matter-of-fact, the light had faded from his eyes.

Impulsively Mitzi reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She met his gaze firmly.

“Okay,” he said. “So maybe all the prison comments are getting old.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Sincerely.”

For several long seconds she let her hand rest on his. When he flipped his over and laced fingers with hers, her heart stumbled. His intensely passionate eyes suddenly looked more green than brown in the light.

“Let’s talk about something more interesting,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers. “Tell me about Mitzi Sanchez.”

She moistened suddenly dry lips. “Not much to tell.”

Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. She really should disengage.

Before she could make a move, his fingers tightened on hers and his thumb began to stroke her palm. Inwardly, she shuddered.

“You told me that first night you were from California.” Keenan’s tone had a soothing effect. “I’d have pegged you as a California girl anyway. You have that free-spirit vibe.”

Mitzi gave a little laugh. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.”

“I meant it as a compliment.” He tilted his head. “What part of the state?”

“Los Angeles,” she answered then clarified, “East L.A.”

“Tough area.”

She quirked a brow. “You’re familiar with the city?”

“I lived there for a while after I left Jackson.”

Had he once hoped for a career on the big screen? He certainly had the looks, charm and a charisma that went beyond the physical. Mitzi tried to visualize Keenan waiting tables while hoping for a big break.

His sister was right. There was a quiet confidence about him, one that said here was a man who’d support, encourage, stick.

Shaking the ridiculous thought aside, Mitzi reminded herself she barely knew the guy. To make suppositions on limited information could be dangerous. “Were you a starving actor?”

“Starving MMA fighter,” he said, then immediately switched the focus back to her. “Tell me how a pretty Latina ended up in Wyoming.”

Mitzi resisted the urge to sigh. Though normally there was nothing she liked better than talking about herself, she was reluctant to share too much. Knowledge was power, after all. And like her, she sensed Keenan preferred to hold those reins.

Yet no matter how many times she tried to switch the conversation to him, he kept redirecting it back to her.

“I returned to California for my residency,” she told him finally. “Kate and I met then, and we’ve been good friends ever since. She moved here and really liked it. When I finished my fellowship, there was an opening at Spring Gulch Orthopedics. They offered me the position, and here I am.”

Instead of grabbing another slice of pizza, Keenan kept his entire attention on her. “Do you still have family in California?”

“My mother.” Mitzi shifted in her seat, wishing the seats had more padding and Keenan would stop with the family questions. “A sister. Three nieces. What about you? I know your sister is here. What about your parents?”

A shadow passed over his face. “I don’t remember my old man. He cut out shortly after Betsy was born. I was five. Gloria—our mother—died in a car accident several years back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that—”

“She was drunk.” His voice turned flat, his eyes now shuttered. “Police estimate she was going close to seventy when she hit the tree. Almost took out a kid on a bike.”

Sympathy for the boy who’d grown up on his own washed over her even as the air filled with the bruised weight of the past.

“It’s tough. My father died when I was seven.” She surprised herself by revealing so much. But it felt right. “He was digging a trench when it caved in. He suffocated before they could get to him.”

His gaze never left her face. “Heck of a way to go.”

“Is there a good way?” Mitzi gave a careless shrug before pulling her hand from his and taking another slice of pizza.

They ate in companionable silence for several minutes. Mitzi found it odd she could be so relaxed in the company of a man she barely knew. Perhaps it was because she didn’t feel the need to be anything but herself with him.

“Ben Campbell and I were on the same Little League team in grade school,” Keenan said abruptly. “I heard the two of you dated for a while.”

Mitzi raised a brow. “Plugged into the Jackson Hole gossip line already, McGregor?”

A quick grin flashed. “Hey, I can’t help it if people want to catch me up to date.”

“Then you should also be aware Ben is now a happily married man with a wife he loves and a bouncing baby boy.”

“Wish it was you?”

“If I’d wanted it to be me, I’d have tried harder to make it work.”

“If it don’t come easy, best to let it go.”

“Aren’t you the philosophical one?”

His smile widened. “Just sayin’ if you have to work at it so hard, perhaps it’s not meant to be.”

“If I subscribed to that theory, I’d still be back in L.A., cleaning houses like my mother or tending bar like my sister.”

“Nothing wrong with honest labor,” Keenan said mildly.

“There’s also nothing wrong with having goals and trying to better yourself,” she said casually. It was all she could do not to snap back at him.

“Is this where you get up and start preaching that everyone can succeed if they just try hard enough?”

There was something behind that bland expression, something in the way he said the words that told Mitzi if she did preach that sermon, he’d be the first to get up and leave. She called on her inner control and forced calmness to her voice she didn’t feel. “You don’t agree?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Let it go. His opinion didn’t matter. She knew what she believed. Yet, she found herself saying, “Tell me.”

He did. She listened—and ate—as Keenan spoke of the people he’d met before he’d gone to prison: decent hardworking men and women trying to build a better life for themselves and their families.

“When you get down so low, it’s almost impossible to get out.”

“Yeah, it’s hard,” Mitzi insisted. “Sacrifices have to be made.”

“Did you work when you were in high school?”

“I worked my butt off. I cleaned houses. I scrubbed floors and toilets.” She wrinkled her nose. “While my mother encouraged me to study, she’d have been satisfied to have me cleaning full-time after graduation. I was the one who wanted more.”

“You were lucky,” he said.

“Hardly.” She gave a little laugh. “My bedroom in the new house is bigger than our entire apartment in L.A.”

“You had someone who kept a roof over your head, food on the table. Someone who encouraged you to study.”

“Yes, but—” Mitzi’s frustration began to churn like an approaching thunderstorm inside her. “I could have gone out and partied. Gotten knocked up at sixteen like my sister.”

“You made the most of the opportunities you were given.” Keenan’s tone seemed to gentle. “That’s commendable. I’m not taking anything away from you, Mitzi. I’m simply saying in many ways you were fortunate and had a leg up on a lot of other people. That’s all.”

Mitzi stared at him for a moment. He made a good point. She hadn’t had to take care of her sister, and her mother had done her best to provide for the family.

“You’re right.” Instead of picking up her pizza, Mitzi stabbed it with her fork. “But I got out of East L.A., left that lifestyle behind because of the choices I made.”

“Hey.” Keenan reached across the table, laid a hand across hers and gave it a squeeze. “You’re a success story. You have every right to be proud of what you’ve achieved.”

Some of her irritation slipped away at the admiration in those hazel eyes.

“Care if I join you while I wait for my pizza? I don’t want to interrupt.”

Jerking back her hand, Mitzi shifted her gaze.

Winston Ferris stood by the table, smiling down at them. From his hand-tailored suit, Hermès tie and black Hublot watch encircling his wrist Winn radiated an aura of wealth and privilege. And why not? He was a successful land developer and son of wealthy rancher Jim Ferris. Though there were some in town who decried his ethics, Mitzi admired his tenacity and focus.

“Please join us.” Mitzi moved over and made room for Winn on her side of the booth.

Keenan took another sip of cola and eyed Winn thoughtfully. But once Winn sat down, her dinner companion extended his hand.

“Keenan McGregor,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Winn introduced himself before Mitzi could do it, then gazed thoughtfully at Keenan. “You’re Betsy Harcourt’s brother, the one who just got out of prison.”

Mitzi’s gaze shot to Keenan’s face but his expression remained bland.

“That’s right,” Keenan said easily. “And your father owns the Triple K.”

Surprise skittered across Winn’s face. “You know my father?”

“I know the spread,” Keenan clarified. “I used to do some work for the previous owner back in high school. Prime ranch land.”

“Dad is happy with it.” Looking perplexed, Winn shifted his attention to Mitzi. “I thought you were dating Kelvin Reid?”

“You’re out of the loop, Ferris.” Mitzi waved a dismissive hand. “That player is old news.”

Winn turned to Keenan, but before he could get a word out, Mitzi continued.

“Keenan and I met at his welcome-home party,” she said hurriedly. “Now we’re sharing a friendly pizza.”

“What she’s trying to make clear is this isn’t a date.” Keenan gave a little chuckle. “I’m not her type. She’s not mine.”

Mitzi’s eyes widened then narrowed. Not his type. Whom was he kidding? She’d seen the look in his eyes earlier. If he could have tossed her to the floor and had her right there, he would have.

She ignored the annoying thought that if he had done that, she’d probably have let him. Of course, desire wasn’t the same as being someone’s type. Any more than simply sharing a pizza and conversation was a date.

* * *

Mitzi watched Keenan stroll out the front door of Perfect Pizza. He’d chatted amiably with Winn but when the man’s pizza was delivered and Winn continued to sit, Keenan made some excuse about needing to get home.

She told herself she didn’t care if Keenan left. Winn was whom she really wanted to get to know better.

“How’s the golf-course development coming?” While Mitzi knew golf was the reason Winn had originally come to Jackson Hole and stayed, those tiny white balls had never been her friend. Whenever she’d had occasion to be around one, it always did everything it could to get away, hiding from her behind rocks, in trees, even plopping deep into water.

“We should be breaking ground soon.” Winn leaned back and gazed admiringly across the table at her.

Once Keenan had disappeared from sight, Mitzi suggested Winn move to the other side of the booth so they could face each other. She needed to put a little distance between them. Though his cologne was an expensive brand, she’d never particularly liked the musky scent.

“The environmentally sensitive guidelines have been a thorn in my side,” he said, frustration evident in his tone. “But thankfully we’re finally in a position to move forward.”

“You faced a lot of obstacles,” she observed. “But you persevered.”

He grinned. “That’s the kind of guy I am.”

Here, Mitzi thought, was a true kindred spirit. No wonder Winn Ferris currently reigned at the top of her husband list.

As he talked of his boarding school years, his private-school education and his work with GPG, a large investment firm, her mind wandered.

Granted, Winn had achieved much success. He was exactly what she wanted. In fact, he was practically perfect, Mitzi told herself, even as she couldn’t help looking at the door and wishing Keenan hadn’t hurried off so quickly.

Chapter Five

“Trust me.” Kate passed Mitzi the mashed potatoes at her dinner table the following evening. “You don’t want to move into a home that’s under construction. It’ll be dusty and dirty and dangerous.”

“I don’t see I have much choice.”

“Did I mention dusty?”

Mitzi took a small tablespoon of potatoes and passed them to Joel, who so far had wisely kept his mouth shut on the matter.

Mitzi had already discussed the subject with him in depth at the job site today. He’d done his best to change her mind, but she’d dug in her heels. She realized he was frustrated, but in the end, as the client, it was her decision.

“We always have a choice.” Kate’s gaze shifted from her husband back to her friend, two lines of worry between her brows.

“My swimming teacher didn’t give me a choice,” ten-year-old Chloe piped up from the other side of Mitzi. “She said I had to tread water for five minutes.”

Mitzi smiled sympathetically at the child. “Bummer.”

She and Kate had become friends around the time Kate had given birth to Chloe. Mitzi remembered well the pain Kate had experienced when she’d given the baby up for adoption. And she recalled the joy when she’d finally been reunited with her daughter.

Now she and Joel and Chloe were a family. And last year, Samuel Joel Dennes had been born. The energetic boy was currently engrossed with smashing carrots into his high chair tray.

Mitzi turned back to her friend.

“The closing on my condo is at the end of the week,” Mitzi reminded her. “Then I’m homeless.”

“I made it clear I want you here.” Kate’s hazel gaze met Mitzi’s. “We have a lovely guest room that only gets used when Joel’s family comes to visit. Which isn’t nearly often enough.”

Kate made no mention of her own family, Mitzi knew, because they weren’t close. In her parents’ minds they had one child, Kate’s older sister, Andrea. Though in recent years, Kate and her “perfect sister” had forged a tentative relationship, as far as Mitzi knew, there were no plans for any of Kate’s family to visit.

“This is a lovely home,” Mitzi said with sincerity, glancing around the room with the large picture window overlooking the mountains. “But I like my privacy.”

Kate lifted a brow.

“It’s true.” Mitzi gave a little laugh. “Blame it on all those years with too many people in a one-bedroom apartment.”

“You have a busy practice. Your home should be your sanctuary.” Kate reached over and covered Mitzi’s hand. “A house still under construction isn’t much of a sanctuary. It will be a chaotic place to live.”

“Perhaps.” Mitzi squeezed Kate’s hand then sat back. “But I want to give it a try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll let you say ‘I told you so,’ and come crawling to your guest room.”

“Can’t you simply skip the trying-it-out part?” Kate began, then shook her head at Mitzi’s mulish expression. “No, of course you can’t.”

Kate turned to her husband. She smiled with a confidence nobody at the table believed. “It will be fine. Having Mitzi in the house while you finish the inside won’t be a problem. You’ll hardly know she’s there.”

* * *

Joel had pulled Keenan off Mitzi’s house to work on the house in the mountains. It was for the best. Though Keenan found the pretty doctor intriguing, she also irritated the hell out of him.

After a week away, he returned to the house-in-progress and was shocked to discover Mitzi had moved in.

“It’s not finished,” he said to Bill, incredulous. “Why did Joel allow this?”

A resigned look settled over Bill’s wrinkled features. “He didn’t allow her anything. She’s the client. This is what she wanted.”

“What about the dirt? The noise?”

Bill shrugged. “She works long hours. And we’ve got strict orders to be out of here by five. We’ve got the doors on, so security shouldn’t be a problem. This is a nice neighborhood.”

It was the kind of neighborhood Keenan wished he could have given Betsy when she was growing up. Where residents drove slowly because of families riding their bikes, where little girls played dolls on the porches and boys had mock sword fights in the front yard.

Even though he’d started delivering papers at ten, any money he made had gone to help make rent so they had a roof over their heads. That had been the best he could offer his baby sister. Keenan shoved the memories from his mind and concentrated on caulking. Normally, Bill wasn’t much of a talker, but today the man was like one of those rabbits with new batteries.

Once his coworker had exhausted every other topic, Bill settled his gaze on Keenan. “What was it you did before being sent to the Big House?”

Keenan didn’t take offense. In the short time he’d been working with Bill, his prison stay had quickly become a running joke.

“I was an airplane mechanic.” Keenan’s voice warmed, the way it always did when he thought about anything to do with flying. “I also had my pilot’s license and did some hauling for a charter service.”

Obviously perplexed, Bill tilted his head. “Why aren’t you doing that now?”

“Couldn’t find a job.” Keenan shrugged. “Right now, I’m saving up for a deposit on an apartment.”

“I thought you were living with your sister.”

“Not anymore.” Keenan looked down, wiped off some extra caulking with the side of a finger. “She and her husband haven’t been married that long. Now with a baby, well, they need their privacy. I got a room downtown.”

Betsy, he admitted, had wanted him to stay. She’d actually gotten tears in her eyes when he told her he’d found a room at a boardinghouse. Her husband, Ryan, a buddy from way back, had also tried to convince him to stay, but Keenan refused to be swayed by Betsy’s tears or Ryan’s logic.

They’d both done so much for him already. Though the room he’d rented was Spartan and the bathroom a shared one down the hall, it was still a step up from a cell.

“You probably need to get some flying time in if you want to get your license back.” Bill measured a piece of trim.

“Exactly right.” Keenan refused to be discouraged. It might take a few months but he’d fly again. “Time in the air costs money. Once I get an apartment and a few bucks together, that’ll be number one on my list.”

“My brother, Steve, owns Grand Teton Charter.” Bill’s gaze fixed on Keenan. “He’s been whining about one of his mechanics moving to Colorado. I could hook the two of you up. See if maybe you could do some repair stuff for him in exchange for air time.”

Keenan’s fingers tightened around the caulking gun. He’d turned down several friends who’d offered to give him money to help him get the air time. But this would be bartering services, not charity.

“Sounds like a good plan.” Keenan kept his tone casual, not wanting to get his hopes up. Bill’s brother might not favor the idea. “Yeah, check and see if he’s interested in some kind of arrangement. If not, that’s cool.”

The rest of the day passed quickly, after Bill promised to speak with Steve that night.

At four-thirty, Bill started gathering up his tools. “My daughter has to work at Hill of Beans this evening and the wife is tied up. I told her I’d get off a little early and take her.”

The older man’s gaze slid around the room. He grimaced. “I wanted to get the rest of these doors hung today so the painters could start staining tomorrow. Looks like I’m going to have to call and reschedule them.”

When the older man pulled out his phone, Keenan held up his hand. “There’s only a couple left. I’ll stay and finish. There’s nowhere I need to be.”

“We’re supposed to be out of here by five,” Bill reminded him.

“You said over lunch you stayed until six last night and Dr. Sanchez still wasn’t home,” Keenan reminded him.

“That’s true.” Bill rubbed his chin. “I know she’s eager to get this job done. Let’s do it this way. You work on it, but if you see her car pull up, you skedaddle out of here. I don’t want Joel on my ass.”

“Understood.” Keenan gave the man a not-so-gentle shove. “Now get out of here. You don’t want your daughter to be late.”

Keenan continued to work. His radio, set to a hard rock station, blared out favorite tunes from high school. He’d just finished hanging the last door when the radio cut off.

He looked up.

There she was, dressed in a floaty kind of dress the color of autumn leaves, her hair pulled back in some sort of low twist. Her necklace was copper wire infused with amber and red beads.

Mitzi didn’t look angry, he realized. She looked confused.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I live here.”

“That’s what I heard.” He gestured with his head toward the hall leading to the bedroom. “A shower, a bed and a huge mirror. What more does a woman need?”

She gave a throaty laugh. “My sentiments exactly.”

He hadn’t been sure how she’d respond to seeing him again. It wasn’t as if things had gone badly when they’d had dinner. She’d simply found a better-suited dinner companion. He hadn’t made a scene, which would have been ridiculous considering the fact they were mere acquaintances.

He glanced at the large sack in her hand, recognized the eatery. “Chinese?”

“I was in the mood.” She opened the sack and the delicious aroma of fried rice filled the air. “Golden Palace is the best.”

“Got that right,” Keenan concurred. He pulled to his feet, dusted his jeans off. “I realize you like us gone by five but if we got all the doors hung today, the painters can come tomorrow and stain.”

“Staying late is fine.” Mitzi waved a hand and he noticed her nails were the color of pumpkin. “I told Joel I didn’t want the workers to feel they had to stay late to try to get the house done sooner, simply because I’d moved in.”

“Well, this ‘worker’ appreciates your consideration.”

Mitzi paused for a second then held out the sack, letting it swing as it dangled between her fingers. “If the worker is hungry,” she said, “I have enough for two.”

“Kind of you to offer.” Keenan finished putting away his tools. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Look, I’m rarely kind. Or thoughtful. And I never let anyone impose. But I always order at least enough for two so I have leftovers.”

“Nothing like Chinese food for breakfast,” he quipped.

“Or cold pizza,” she added with an impish smile, and then sighed. “It’s been a long day and I’m ready to unwind. I’ve got a six-pack of imported Chinese beer to go with the food, but there are also bottles of water in the fridge. I’m not in the mood to eat alone, and you’re here. The way I see it, unless you have other plans, we might as well eat together.”

When she paused to take a breath, Keenan grinned. “Since you put it that way, toss me one of those egg rolls.”

* * *

After Mitzi changed into jeans and a psychedelic top that Keenan joked made his eyes hurt, they ate sitting crossed-legged on the kitchen floor, the food spread out between them.

He insisted the fried rice and sesame chicken were as good as he remembered, while Mitzi focused on the Mongolian beef and steamed rice. She sipped the cold beer and felt the stress of the day slide away.

She hadn’t realized until just this moment that Keenan was really easy to be with, no stress, no pressure. He entertained her with his travels and the life of an extreme-sports junkie. She refrained from bringing up his prison experience.

“I heard you had a place in Teton Village.” Keenan dipped his egg roll into some sweet-and-sour sauce. “Minutes from the slopes.”

“I take it you like to ski.” She took another sip of beer and wondered if there was a single person in Jackson Hole who wasn’t crazy about the sport.

He grinned. “I worked on the ski patrol when I was first out of high school.”

“What about college?” The question slipped past her lips before she could pull it back.

“No money,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “No inclination.”

He stabbed a bite of sesame chicken with his fork, held it up without eating. “Even if I’d wanted to go, Betsy was still in middle school. And Gloria—our mother—” he clarified at Mitzi’s confused look “—you couldn’t trust the woman to take care of a dog, much less a child.”

Admiration rippled through Mitzi as she put two and two together. Keenan had put his life on hold to watch over his sister.

“Anyway, Bets was the smart one in the family,” he continued. “She got a couple of scholarships and some grants and went to the University of Kansas.”

“Leaving you finally free to pursue your dreams.” Mitzi kept her tone light.

Keenan took the piece of sesame chicken into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “My only dreams back then were to have a good time and see how far I could push myself.”

She’d known men—boys—like him back in her old neighborhood. They’d lived for today without a thought for their future. She’d avoided them like the plague.

“When did that change?” she asked.

He shot her a lazy glance over the rim of his water bottle. “What makes you think it did?”

“You became an airplane mechanic,” she said evenly. “You got your pilot’s license.”

He leaned back against the wall, his eyes taking on a distant look. “I got tired of all the travel, the different beds, the partying. I didn’t want to end up...”

His voice trailed off but Mitzi had no difficulty seeing where he’d been headed. She realized with a start, they weren’t so different after all.

“Like your mother,” she finished the sentence for him.

He merely shrugged, drank long.

“Things were coming together for me. I even started to think I might one day have enough money together to start my own charter service.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Then it all fell apart.”

“What happened?” Even as she asked, Mitzi knew it was none of her business. Realized the topic was probably a difficult one for him to discuss even among friends. While they’d shared a couple of meals, she and Keenan weren’t friends, not really.

But he could be. Mitzi had the feeling Keenan would make a really good friend.

The day outside was overcast and the room held a soft glow, encouraging confidences. For reasons she chose not to examine too closely, Mitzi wanted to understand the man with the broad shoulders and suddenly tired eyes sitting across from her on the floor.

“I was working late at a private airport outside of Cheyenne.” Keenan stared down at the fork in his hand as if he’d never seen the utensil before. “I heard sounds of a scuffle outside the hangar then someone screaming. I ran outside to help.”

He hesitated.

Instead of pushing for more, Mitzi took a long, slow sip of her beer and waited.

“Two big guys were pummeling this man who was already down. There was blood. Lots of blood.” His eyes grew dark with the memories. “I shouted for them to stop. They stopped all right...and turned on me.”

Mitzi’s heart caught in her throat. She lowered the glass. “What happened?”

“I got in a couple good jabs.” He lifted one shoulder. “Everything after that is a blank. When I woke up I was in an infirmary...attached to the jail.”

“You hadn’t done anything but try to help.”

“I learned I’d been charged with murder. But I wasn’t worried,” he said. “I’d gotten a good look at the two guys and could give their description. Then I discovered the gun that was used to kill the man had been found in my hand.”

Mitzi didn’t bother to hide her shock. “You were framed.”

He nodded. “They did a bang-up job of it. Still, I was prepared to prove my innocence...until I got word if I fought the charges, they’d kill my sister.”

Keenan’s gaze locked with Mitzi. “I had no doubt they could do it. They knew where Betsy worked, where she lived. I’d have done anything to protect her.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “You went to prison for a crime you didn’t commit.”

“They’d have killed her,” he said simply.

“How did you get out?”

“New evidence came to light. Not from me, but from one of the two men there that day. He turned on his friend. Bad guys do things like that. Lucky for me or I’d still be stuck in that hellhole.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Still, it took considerable time, money and effort to secure my release. My sister and my friends here went above and beyond in that area. There’s no way I can ever repay them.”

Mitzi leaned over, placed her hand over his. “I bet they’d say having you out of prison is all the payment they want.”

“Perhaps,” he said, not sounding convinced. “Regardless, I’m going to repay every penny they put out. That may take a while. But their kindness, their support, well, that’s something I can never repay.”

His voice, thick with emotion, cracked, surprising them both.

Keenan attempted to cover the sound with a cough. “Anyway, that’s the story. I’m back where I started, and it’s okay.”

“You plan on sticking?”

He nodded. “I want to see my nephew grow up, hang out with friends...although it’s different now, most of them being married with kids.”

“Tell me about it.” Mitzi rolled her eyes. “It’s not easy being single and surrounded by happily marrieds.”

Keenan’s eyes grew sharp, assessing. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t snagged you before now.”

“Shagged?” She couldn’t help but smile. “That’s happened a time or two. Or three,” she added.

“Snagged.” He emphasized the word and laughed. “As in put a ring on that pretty finger.”

There were a dozen phrases she’d used over the years to explain her single status, but for some reason Mitzi decided to take the honest route this time.

“For as many years as I can remember, I’ve had to keep men at arm’s length. I had my dreams and nothing—and no one—could be allowed to derail those plans.”

“Now you’ve reached your goal.”

“I have,” she admitted. “But keeping that distance became a habit. Trust has never come easily for me.”

Over fortune cookies, she found herself telling Keenan about Kelvin, her last boyfriend. Although she’d known from the start that the odds of her and the NFL star having a future were a long shot, she’d still been shocked when she learned he’d been cheating on her.

“I let myself trust him,” she admitted. “That’s where I went totally wrong.”

“Did you love him?”

“I was heading in that direction,” Mitzi said, embarrassed she could have been so gullible. “I was stupid.”

“No,” Keenan said firmly. “He was stupid.”

Mitzi lifted a shoulder. “My mistake was getting involved with him in the first place. I should have known it wouldn’t work. We were apart too much.”

“What about Benedict?” Keenan asked.

“Ben’s a great guy,” she said. “We should have been a perfect match. But he got on my nerves and I got on his. Big-time.”

“I can understand that,” Keenan said then grinned when she gave him a shove.

“How about you? Any true loves in your past?”

“A prison isn’t exactly a dating wonderland.” His eyes grew shuttered, the way they always did when those years came up.

Mitzi got it that he didn’t want to talk about that time. “I mean before that.”

“No. There was never anyone special.” His eyes grew thoughtful. “I think I always knew I needed to get myself together before I had anything to offer someone else.”

“Any prospects in Jackson Hole?”

“Maybe,” he said, a lazy gleam in his eyes.

Her stomach twisted, even as Mitzi told herself it didn’t matter to her in the least who Keenan McGregor wanted to date...or to sleep with....

She scrambled to her feet, feeling oddly out of breath. “It’s getting late.”

Taking his time, Keenan pulled to his feet, hazel eyes focused on hers. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

“It’s getting late,” she repeated, feeling foolish.

He leaned forward and surprised her by brushing a kiss across her cheek.

Mitzi frowned, resisted the urge to touch her face. “What was that for?”

“For the dinner.” He shot her a wink. “Next time, it’s my treat.”

Chapter Six

“Next time, he says, as if it’s a given,” Mitzi groused to Kate over lunch at the Green Gateau the following day. “He acted as if it was a date or something, and that we were destined to have another one.”

“I’ll tell Joel he’s bothering you.” Kate stabbed a crisp piece of endive with her fork.

Mitzi jerked upright. “Don’t you dare repeat one word of what I say to your husband.”

“But if one of his employees is harassing you...” Kate dipped the lettuce into the salad dressing, not seeming to notice Mitzi’s horrified expression.

“I didn’t say he was harassing me,” Mitzi sputtered. “And whatever I tell you is in confidence and not to be shared. I won’t have Keenan getting in trouble—”

Suddenly seeing the amusement in her friend’s eyes, Mitzi paused. “You had no intention of speaking with Joel.”

“Of course not.” Kate lifted her hands and drew a box in the air with her fingers. “We’re in the vault.”

Whatever was said in “the vault” was between the two of them and not to be shared.

“Besides,” Kate continued, a tiny smile tugging at her lips, “he’s not harassing you—he’s flirting.”

“You’re wrong.”

“C’mon, Mitzi, you’re not that clueless.”

“I’ve got someone else in mind.”

“Tim Duggan?”

Mitzi shook her head. “I thought about it. You were right. I’m not ready to be an instant mommy.”

Her expression giving nothing away, Kate took a sip of mango iced tea. “So who’s moved to the top of the leader board?”

“Winn Ferris.” Mitzi set aside her reservations. Although he didn’t make her blood surge like Keenan, there was no denying Winn was an attractive man. And he met all her criteria. “I’m certain the better I get to know him, the more I’ll like him.”

Kate cocked her head. “Really?”

“Some men have to grow on you.”

“Others hit you square in the heart.” Kate’s lips curved up.

Mitzi felt a stab of envy, knowing her friend was thinking about her reaction to Joel when she’d first met him. Though Kate’s journey to love and happiness had been jolted by more than a few potholes, her friend had a marriage Mitzi envied.

But Mitzi had learned long ago that everyone traveled a different course in life. Hers had never been easy. So why should her quest for love and a husband be any different?

“I’ve got to figure out a way to spend time with Winn.” Mitzi caught her lip between her teeth. “I could simply tell him I’m interested, but honesty tends to scare men off.”

Kate looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh. “I agree. Coming out and telling him he’s at the top of your husband list might be a trifle disconcerting.”

Mitzi shot her friend a glance. “I wish there was a party coming up. A reason to bring us together without being obvious.”

“How about book club?”

Mitzi had attended the monthly book club in the past when she’d had nothing better to do or was in the mood for gourmet food. It was a given that Lexi Delacourt would supply the entrée consumed prior to the discussion. In addition to being a fine social worker, Lexi was a gourmet cook. Though husbands often showed up with their wives, it wasn’t really a party.

“The book club is all women,” Mitzi said pointedly. “Winn is a guy.”

“During the book club meeting—which happens to be at our house this month—Joel plans to get the guys together for a pickup game of baseball.”

A slow smile spread across Mitzi’s face. “He could invite Winn.”

“He could.” Kate handed the waiter her credit card. “I’m sure your Mr. Ferris would attend. Especially considering that many of those who’d be there are the movers and shakers in Jackson Hole, including our new mayor, Tripp Randall.”

“Yeah, he’d come.” Mitzi brought a finger to her lip. “Unless he has other plans.”

“You’ll know one way or the other,” Kate spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “But you might want to come anyway. Lexi is bringing her fabulous Southern-style fried chicken and we’ll be discussing Catcher in the Rye, so it should be an enjoyable evening.”

“It’s next Tuesday, right?” Mitzi scrolled through the calendar in her head.

“Seven o’clock,” Kate confirmed.

“I’ll be there,” Mitzi promised.

This would be a perfect chance to spend some quality time with Winn, perhaps charm him a little. Mitzi wondered why she didn’t feel more excited at the prospect.

* * *

The second Keenan stepped into the lobby of the Red Sands Hotel, he wondered what madness had prompted him to come. The monthly Jackson After-Hours events gave young professionals in the Jackson Hole area the opportunity to mingle and network.

As Keenan wasn’t a professional and at thirty-four didn’t feel particularly young, it didn’t seem like an event for him. But Gabe and Joel made the event sound mandatory.

Apparently a lot of the growth Stone Craft Builders had experienced could be traced to contacts made at such events. In Keenan’s mind, the only upside was that the complimentary hot hors d’oeuvres would save him from buying or making dinner.

In deference to the event, he’d taken off a half hour early to shower, pull on a pair of khakis and a green polo with the company logo.

When he arrived, the private dining room adjacent to the bar already teemed with people. He recognized many of them, including his brother-in-law.

After getting a glass of club soda from one of the bars, Keenan forced himself to mingle. As he walked through the crowd, he heard a shriek and found himself wrapped in a bear hug.

“Someone told me you were back.”

Keenan had a momentary glimpse of bright copper hair tipped with fuchsia and dancing blue eyes framed in purple glasses studded with rhinestones. The girl had blossomed into a woman, but he’d have known that smile anywhere.

“Cassidy Kaye.” He returned the hug. “It’s been a long time. What are you doing here?”

“Networking,” she said and he heard pride in her voice. “I own my own salon...Clippety Do-Dah on Main.”

Her gaze narrowed as she studied his hair. “You could use a trim. Stop in and I’ll take a few inches off. It’ll be like old times, except now I know what I’m doing.”

“If you need some work done on your car,” he said easily, taking a sip of his club soda, “all you had to do was ask.”

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