by Cindy Kirk
“C’mon, Keenan.” Ryan dropped the sandwich to his plate. “Everyone knows you’re practically living with rich—and incredibly hot—Dr. Sanchez.”
The chunk of bread that had been sliding quite nicely down Keenan’s throat came to an abrupt halt. It took a big gulp of soda to wash it the rest of the way down.
“I live at the boardinghouse.” His tone dared Ryan to disagree. “Mitzi and I are friends.”
Ryan cocked his head. “Friends with benefits?”
Keenan gave the charred sandwich in front of him one last look before pushing the plate to the side. He lifted his chin. “Friends.”
Ryan gave a snort, worthy of any of the bulls he used to ride. He started to speak but was drowned out by his son.
“More,” Nate bellowed. “Want more.”
Most of the grilled cheese pieces remained on the high chair tray but the orange slices had disappeared.
“Say please,” Ryan prompted when Nate banged his hand against the tray.
Nate’s face took on a mulish expression.
“Say please,” Ryan said again.
The little boy gave his father an angelic smile. “Pease.”
“That’s my boy.” Ryan tousled his son’s dark hair and dropped several orange pieces onto the tray.
“Go slow,” Ryan warned, when the boy started shoveling them in. “And eat your sandwich, too.”
“Puffy eat.” Nate swept his arm across the tray and pieces of grilled cheese rained down on the Pomeranian waiting at his feet. “Yucky.”
Keenan suppressed a smile when the child turned back to the orange slices. He had a feeling Ryan and Betsy were going to have their hands full with their little buckaroo.
Once the dog pranced off with the chunk of sandwich in her mouth, Ryan turned to Keenan. “You realize that Mitzi and I went out a couple of times. We were just friends, too.”
A knot formed in the pit of Keenan’s stomach. “Friends with benefits?”
Ryan laughed so uproariously that Nate shrieked and waved his arms excitedly.
“Heck, no,” Ryan managed to sputter when he finally stopped laughing. “She wouldn’t let me touch her. Not even a kiss. I decided she must be a cold fish.”
“No,” Keenan said, thinking of her warmth, her passion and the scorching heat that flared whenever they were together. “Not cold at all.”
“What you’re saying is I wasn’t her type.”
“That lawyer brain is firing on all circuits today.”
“The doctor is hot for you.”
“For now. Until she finds Mr. Right.”
Obviously confused, Ryan cocked his head. “I thought you were Mr. Right.”
“I’m a placeholder.” Keenan’s laugh held no humor as he thought of Mitzi’s list. “Until the right guy appears.”
“Does that bother you?”
Keenan started to deny it, and then reconsidered. If he could talk to anyone about his jumbled feelings, it’d be Ry.
“It didn’t at first,” he admitted. “Somewhere along the way, things changed. At least for me.”
“You’re in love with her.”
The words hung there like a red flag, waving between them in the breeze.
“Yeah, I love her.” Keenan scowled. “Now I have to decide what I’m going to do about it.”
When Keenan headed for the Clippety Do-Dah Salon Thursday afternoon, he still hadn’t decided what he was going to do about his feelings for Mitzi. He considered telling her he loved her. Then he wondered if that would just make things awkward and ruin what time he had left with her.
He’d never told a woman he loved her. Because Mitzi was the first woman he ever loved. He didn’t want to be a placeholder. Heck, he didn’t want to even be her boyfriend.
He wanted to marry her. He wanted to be her husband.
Husband.
The word pulled him up short.
Marriage. To Mitzi. Was it really such a crazy thought?
Yes, he told himself with increased agitation, it was crazy to even think of it, much less consider it an option.
Mitzi was a doctor, for chrissakes. Established. Ready to settle down. She was building a million-dollar home in an exclusive subdivision of Jackson Hole.
While he didn’t believe himself to be less than any other man, Keenan was also a realist. Mitzi was ready to settle down while he was starting over.
But if he loved her and she loved him...
He pulled his thoughts up short. That was really the crux of the matter. What did she feel for him?
If she did love him, why couldn’t they build a life together? He was driven to succeed. He would work hard, be as successful in his chosen field as she was in hers. If she’d just give him a chance...
“Keenan.”
He jerked his head up and realized he’d reached the salon.
Cassidy’s smile was wide and friendly and the tension gripping his shoulders eased.
“Ready to go blue?” the hairstylist asked. “It’s a delightfully delectable color and it’s trending right now.”
His gaze lingered on her short choppy hair, streaked royal blue and platinum. “Looks good on you.”
“Aren’t you a sweet man.” Her smile widened with pleasure.
Looking at her now, at the wide smile on her face, his heart warmed. He recalled the child who’d worn a Halloween catsuit every day to kindergarten, a little girl from the wrong side of the tracks whom teachers labeled quirky. Even back then Keenan had known that survival took many forms.
Remembering—understanding—spawned a rush of brotherly affection. While he and Betsy had each other, Cassidy had been the sole sane one in that dysfunctional house at the end of the block.
“If you and Dr. Sanchez go Splitsville, you know where to find me,” Cassidy said in a loud whisper.
Impulsively, Keenan looped a companionable arm around her shoulder and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “Cassidy, darlin’, you’ll be the first one I call.”
Like a missile, red shot up her cheeks. She cleared her throat then gestured with her head. “Your honey arrived early.”
Keenan turned toward a row of chairs to find the doctor sitting patiently while one of Cassidy’s associates wrapped little pieces of foil in her hair.
Her eyes met Keenan. She raised a brow.
Releasing Cassidy’s arm, he strolled over to Mitzi. When he got close, he stopped, cocked his head. “I can’t picture you as a blue-head.”
“Would it insult you if I admitted I have no problem picturing you with blue spiky hair?”
He laughed. God, he loved this woman.
“You’ll look elegant, as always.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “While I will resemble a Blue Man Group castoff.”
“If you’d like, you can sit right here, Keenan.” Cassidy gestured to the chair next to Mitzi, casting the doctor an apologetic look. “That way the two of you can talk while you go blue.”
“Great.” Keenan plopped into the chair before Mitzi could respond.
Cassidy studied his hair with an experienced eye. “While you’re here, should I trim it up?”
Keenan slanted a sideways glance at Mitzi. Though it was longer than he normally liked, she’d told him more than once how much she liked running her fingers through it when they made love.
But her face was expressionless, telling him nothing.
“Not today,” he said. “If I change my mind, I’ll come back.”
Cassidy raked her fingers through the dark strands. “You have nice hair. Thick and silky.”
Mitzi’s lips curved in the slightest of smiles. This time when his gaze met hers, it held and he felt the connection.
Getting his hair colored didn’t take as long as Keenan had anticipated. Cassidy talked nonstop to both him and Mitzi, while her associate, a waif named Daffodil Prentiss, focused on Mitzi’s hair.
When they finished, the doctor’s hair was dark with a ribbon of deep blue running through the auburn strands. Cassidy had taken
a different approach with his and colored only the tips.
The good news was one haircut and the color would be gone. The bad news was the tips were an eye-popping electric blue.
Had he really expected subtlety from Cassidy Kaye?
“Do you like it?” she asked Mitzi, looking surprisingly anxious.
“Why are you asking her?” Keenan asked. “It’s my hair.”
“She’s the one who has to look at it,” Cassidy shot back.
To his surprise, Mitzi stepped closer and slid her fingers through his hair in a possessive gesture. Keenan wasn’t into female messages, but to him, it clearly said, he’s mine.
“I like it,” Mitzi declared. “Sexy.”
Without warning, the heat, the electricity, the intense emotion that filled the air whenever they were close, scorched his blood.
“Hoo-kay, then.” Cassidy smiled brightly. “Thank you both for coming in.”
Mitzi opened her purse.
Keenan reached for his wallet.
Before they could pull out a credit card or a single bill, Cassidy shook her head firmly. “Doing everyone’s hair is my donation. If you want to give more, add it to the fund.”
Mitzi dropped the wallet back into her purse. “Thank you, Cassidy.” Her gaze shifted to the blonde. “You, too, Daffy.”
The girl with the large violet eyes and straight wheat-colored hair smiled shyly. “The color is temporary but it should last about two weeks. It’s a good look for you. If you decide to keep it, stop back. I’ll retouch it.”
“That goes for you, too, Mr. McGregor.” Cassidy’s booming voice stood in stark contrast to Daffy’s whisper-soft words. “I imagine in a couple of weeks, you’ll be ready to get those ends trimmed.”
Keenan resisted glancing at Mitzi. “Thanks, Cass.”
“Thank me by getting more donations,” Cassidy told him. “Now, you two get out of here so Daffy and I can clean up and get the heck out of Dodge.”
They were on the sidewalk and turning the corner when Keenan took Mitzi’s arm. “That hair of yours is a real turn-on.”
She laughed. “Everything is a turn-on for you.”
“Everything about you, anyway,” he admitted. “Let’s head to your place and get out of these clothes.”
“That’s subtle.”
“I don’t feel subtle right now.” He slid his palm down her arm. “I wanted you naked a half hour ago.”
“Was that before or after you laid that kiss on Cassidy?” Though her tone was light, there was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there seconds earlier.
Keenan realized he owed her an explanation. If he’d seen her kiss some other guy, no matter how casual, he’d want an explanation. Heck, he’d demand one. “Cass and I, we go way back.”
Surprise skittered across Mitzi’s face.
“We were neighbors,” he continued. “I felt like a big brother. But I wasn’t always able to protect her, not like I could Bets.”
All sorts of questions sprang to mind, but Mitzi swallowed them. Sadness had filled Keenan’s eyes and she sensed that any further talk on the subject would kill any possibility of her getting him naked that evening.
He wasn’t the only one who wanted that, she realized.
She’d watched him saunter into Clippety Do-Dah and had studied him as if he were a stranger. Tall, broad-shouldered with hair the color of mahogany, he cut an imposing figure in work jeans, boots and a faded T-shirt.
There was a confidence, a strength to him that was compelling.
Irritation had surged when she’d watched Cassidy flirt with him. When he’d leaned over and kissed her, Mitzi felt as if someone had taken a scalpel to her heart.
Mine, she’d almost called out with a possessive fury that surprised her with its intensity. Get your hands off my man.
Instead, she’d restrained her temper and silently fumed. It was silly, she knew. They were only friends. The trouble was what had blossomed between them no longer felt like simple friendship.
“Let’s go home.” Impulsively she took his hand and experienced a rush of pleasure when his fingers laced through hers. “I want to be with you. Just you. Just me.”
Chapter Seventeen
There was only one thing Mitzi was hungry for when they got to her house...and it wasn’t in the refrigerator. It was found in the man standing before her, his arms now wrapped around her waist.
The second they’d walked through the front door, she’d been ready to strip and jump him. Before that could happen, he’d pulled her into his arms and simply held her close.
“I love—” he stopped to nuzzle the sensitive skin behind her ear “—your hair.”
“Wish I could say the same thing about yours.” Mitzi leaned her head back, reveling in his touch.
“It’s bold, that’s for sure.” He softly laughed. “I’m not sure anyone but Cass could pull off electric blue.”
Mitzi slid her fingers through his hair. “I’m glad you didn’t cut it.”
“Feeling your fingers combing through it is one of my favorite pleasures.” His hazel eyes remained focused on her. “Spending time with you is another.”
She fought the urge to tell him it was the same for her, that seeing him was the best part of her day. How would he respond if she told him she was falling in love with him?
Mitzi wasn’t sure why the thought scared her so much, but it did. Enough that she had to put an end to the conversation.
“I want you, Keenan.”
His eyes never left her. “I feel the same about you.”
Once again uneasiness swept over her like a harsh November wind. “In bed.”
A flicker of his eyelashes was his only response.
She linked her fingers with his and stepped from his arms. “Now.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Mitzi,” he said abruptly, his expression intense, almost fierce.
“You never have.” She offered a reassuring smile. “You and me, we’re the dynamic duo.”
“Dynamic duo, eh?” His lips twitched. “Okay, tonight I’ll be Superman. You can be Lois Lane.”
“No way.” Mitzi felt some of the tightness around her heart ease at the lighthearted teasing. “I’m Wonder Woman.”
“Diana and Bruce?” Keenan thought for a second, flashed a smile. “Batman does have a cool car.”
“A car doesn’t figure in my fantasies tonight.”
“No backseat for you? Not even if it was the Batmobile?”
Her heart stuttered. “I might make an exception for the Batmobile. But tonight I prefer a nice soft bed.”
“You’re such a traditionalist,” he teased.
She stepped close and planted a bite on his shoulder hard enough to make him yelp. “Let’s see if you feel that same way after I get through with you.”
“The way I feel will never change,” he murmured as his lips closed over hers.
The next morning Mitzi found herself more confused than ever. She’d deliberately set out to make their lovemaking erotic and mind-numbing, trying to avoid any emotion.
His playful humor, his willingness to embrace whatever game she wanted to play, only endeared him more to her. She had to admit that no matter how hot it got between them, there was something in his touch, in his taste, in the explosion that rocked her world that said this was someone who mattered, someone she could fully trust.
That was the part that frightened her most, she realized as she lay in bed, listening to the shower run. He’d slipped from the bed at six, cognizant of the fact his coworkers would be arriving within the hour to put the final finishing touches on the home.
Because she didn’t know what he’d see in her eyes, she kept hers closed and pretended to sleep. She didn’t have any surgeries this morning and her first patient wasn’t scheduled until ten o’clock, so there was no reason to jump right up.
Still keeping her eyes shut, Mitzi heard Keenan come out of the bathroom and rummage in the bottom dresser drawer where he kept some clothes.<
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Mitzi opened her eyes to tiny slits, just wide enough to see him standing at the dresser, his back to her. He had a fine body and a very excellent backside.
She’d dated handsome, athletic men before, had even slept with some of them. She realized that she’d never opened her heart to them, never let them get truly close.
Until she met Keenan, she’d never found anyone she trusted enough to let inside her head. Inside her heart. Only her friend Kate knew her better than Keenan did now.
The question was—where did they go from here? Because she had no answer, she made sure her eyes were closed and her breathing regular when he turned to her.
He stood over the bed for a long moment, then leaned over and brushed a light kiss across her forehead. “Later, Wonder Woman.”
“I love you, Batman,” she whispered softly as the door clicked closed behind him. “And, despite my superpowers, I’m not sure I’m brave enough to do anything about it.”
As the end of the weekend neared, Mitzi still hadn’t come to a decision on how to deal with her growing feelings—okay, her love—for Keenan. When she’d made it clear she was looking for a husband, he’d been equally clear that his goal was to get his footing and start to take back his life. He’d even admitted he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship.
Although Mitzi wasn’t a worrier, she was concerned how a confession of love might change things between them...especially after she’d continually insisted they were just friends. And he hadn’t argued. Not once.
Until Keenan, no man had touched her heart. She loved him and the life they’d started to forge together. She, who was easily bored with the predictable, treasured the routines they’d established.
Routines like “movie night.” She and Keenan had fallen into the Sunday evening habit of going out for pizza then coming home and watching a movie. They’d mark the end of the weekend by cuddling on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and tall glasses of soda in front of the screen.
She’d been excited about the comedy they’d picked for tonight. Then, Steve had called. Though Mitzi could tell Keenan was excited about the flight that would take him all the way to the eastern edge of Nebraska, her heart had sunk.