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The Husband List
Cindy Kirk
Mr Right-Next-DoorFor orthopaedic surgeon Mitzi Sanchez, every step up the ladder of success had been the result of hard work and self-sacrifice. She had the perfect life in the perfect town. Now she just needed the perfect man…Pilot Keenan McGregor’s life changed forever when he took the blame for someone else’s actions. He just wanted to rebuild and he was definitely not looking to settle down. Still, whenever he worked with Mitzi, their connection was undeniably electric! Soon they became more than just friends with benefits – but could Keenan convince the good girl-next-door that she was the only woman for him?
“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 (http://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 (http://www.cindykirk.com).
To my NIA buddies.
You make getting up early to exercise a true pleasure!
Contents
Chapter One (#u6390b71a-a817-53f6-8e9e-35c239c992b4)
Chapter Two (#u1cf8a748-f11e-5211-9044-e05b0ebe2f7f)
Chapter Three (#uc9e33554-e33a-54bd-a6dc-f1b526694884)
Chapter Four (#ucb19a397-a02e-5ba8-83d3-c628fb66908f)
Chapter Five (#u983dc7eb-4732-5b60-a6ca-5b54f5b69dc0)
Chapter Six (#u103432fd-8d80-5773-8dcf-af61d69ccdbb)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
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.”
