“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