скачать книгу бесплатно
* * *
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.
