ABOUT MAKING a bad first impression on his new neighbors. Not only was Xander McKinley so not the garden party type, but he was also bare-chested, sweaty and probably stunk from having lugged boxes all evening.
He had fully intended to stay inside tonight, to ignore the party going on in his new backyard. He was a stranger to these people, and while it had been nice of his landlady to extend the invitation, he hadn’t even considered intruding. He still hadn’t gotten his head wrapped around the whole Southern-gentility thing, since Georgia was like a different world from Chicago. But he knew it wasn’t mannerly to barge in on a party when the invite had only been extended out of politeness. So he’d planned to just finish hauling in the last of his stuff, which he’d picked up from the storage unit this afternoon, then unpack a few boxes and settle into his new home.
Unfortunately, settling in hadn’t included hooking his new key to his key ring. So when he’d run outside to grab one last thing out of the truck—sans shirt and shoes—he’d also found himself sans key. And locked out.
“I’m so sorry about this,” he repeated to his new landlady.
Anna waved away his apology. “I should think you’d know how to get in without a key, being a dashing firefighter and all.”
“I didn’t think you’d want me ramming the door down.”
“Best not. Anyway, it’s just as well, since it forced you to come out and meet everyone,” she said.
He gestured toward his sweaty, bare chest. “I’m not exactly dressed for a party.”
“Well, I won’t let you back into your place until you promise to come back after you’ve gotten cleaned up.”
“I don’t know….”
“I do. No more arguments.” The woman led him to a row of chairs in a gazebo, grabbing an oversized purse that was covered with peace signs and jingled with every movement. “I don’t have a key to your front door with me, but I have a master that fits all the secret doors.”
“Secret doors?”
“You probably didn’t notice it—every unit has one. The one in your unit is inside what’s now your bedroom closet. It leads into the screened porch.” She grabbed a jangling ring of keys and removed a small, antique-looking one. “Here it is. Go through the porch and head for the door in the far right corner.”
She gestured toward the porch, and he glanced over. There were about fifty people at the party, many of them milling around outside the back door, and he was going to have to go through all of them. Great. Wonderful. Note to self—don’t go out shirtless and shoeless unless you know you can get back in.
He reached for the key, but before he could take it, something caught his attention. Or, rather, someone.
He whistled. “Who is she?” he mumbled, not even realizing he’d said it out loud.
There were a lot of women here. Attractive women. The South definitely had its share of them. But this one actually made him forget where he was and what he was saying. He could only stand there, staring, as she walked toward the screened-in porch.
With her back to the decorated lawn and woods, she was almost haloed by the thousands of tiny lights. She looked like some kind of magical creature stepping out of a storybook, and he had to blink a few times to rid his mind of the imagery.
He could shake off the magic, but no amount of blinking could change the fact that she was stunning. Or that she looked like she belonged to the night—to nature and the woods and everything mystical.
The woman was tall. Her silky dress was long and shimmery, the color of soft, springy moss, and it clung to a curvy body that would make a man drop to his knees and howl. Her thick hair fell down her back in a tumble of waves and was a mixture of earthy colors—mostly red, but with some gold and brown strewn in there as well. He couldn’t make out her features in this lighting and from this distance, but he saw a mouth curved up into a smile.
He’d thought earlier how hot it was for a summer night. But he hadn’t even understood the meaning of the word until he’d spied her across the party. Because a blast of heat had hit him square in the chest just watching her cross the lawn.
“That’s Mimi Burdette.” His landlady smiled, her gaze shifting back and forth between him and the redhead, who’d disappeared into the screened porch. “Would you like me to introduce you when you come back?”
Oh, hell to the yeah. But something made him ask, “Is she here alone?”
“She’s single,” the woman replied without hesitation. “Totally available.”
Hard to believe, but everybody had a down spell now and then. “Interesting,” he said, more to himself than to Anna.
He hadn’t even been thinking about meeting a woman; the idea of romance was so far down on his list it wasn’t on the first page. New job, new home, new state, fresh start—yeah, that was his focus. Having nothing left in Chicago, he’d moved south, determined to make sure he did what he’d promised his parents he’d do before they’d both died last year—go out and start over somewhere new. Find a life for himself. One that didn’t include sadness and loss and family responsibilities that had kept him close to home for nearly all of his thirty years.
Hell, maybe a woman could be part of that new life. Just because he hadn’t been looking didn’t mean he should walk the other way if an interesting one crossed his path. And an interesting one had most definitely just crossed his path.
“Mimi, huh?” The name was too cute for such a sensual-looking woman and he had to wonder if it was a nickname.
“She’s fabulous,” Anna gushed. “Daughter to a grocery store magnate. Very wealthy and successful.”
Oh, great. Just the type of woman he did not need. He stiffened, unable to help it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like rich people. He made it a point to never judge anyone based on their checkbook balance, be it written in red ink or in black. It was just that, working as a Chicago firefighter, he had met more than a few wealthy women who wanted to walk on the wild side with somebody who had a dangerous job. He’d once participated in a bachelor auction to benefit a kids’ charity. The Junior League set had treated all the men like meat in a butcher shop. The sixtyish cougar who’d bought a date with him hadn’t quite reached the level of sexual assault, but she’d come close, and he’d sworn he’d never date a woman with money. Rich, spoiled and young probably wasn’t too much different from rich, spoiled and old. So forget her.
“Thanks, but I don’t think so,” he said, disappointment flooding him. Anna’s brow shot up, and confusion creased her brow. Not wanting to explain, Xander added, “And thanks for the key. I’ll return it soon.”
“Okay, see you in a little while.” Then, clearing her throat, Anna added, “Remember, through the screen porch, to the small, old-fashioned door in the far left corner.”
Left? Yeesh. Good thing she’d repeated herself— he’d been thinking right. Or, more accurately, he hadn’t been thinking right … not since he’d spied that stunning figure in green.
Xander nodded, then headed for the porch. There
