Cindy Kirk - The Husband List

“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.”