The Husband List. Cindy Kirk
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