Free Coming Home for Christmas by Marie Ferrarella Page A

just the slightest hint of cleavage—only enough to distract him—as she fussed over the menus.
    As if his brain was on some delayed timer, when he realized what he was doing—and that she was looking at him—Keith said the first thing that came to mind that didn’t include her.
    Or food, for that matter.
    Clearing his throat, he muttered, “A shot of vodka comes to mind.”
    Kenzie effortlessly took his response in stride, incorporating it in her answer. “There’ll be a bar for those who feel the need for something a little more bracing than soda.” Straightening up as unobtrusively as possible when she realized that her neckline had dipped down, Kenzie tapped an index finger once on each of the menus. “I meant, which of these menus do you want at the reception?”
    None stood out from the other two. They looked equally acceptable. Keith waved a dismissive hand at the array. “It doesn’t matter.”
    The look he caught her giving him in response said that it did matter.
    â€œOkay, you pick,” he told Kenzie, adding for her benefit, “I defer to your judgment. You seem to be in tune to what these women want.”
    She couldn’t help wondering if Keith knew how aloof he sounded. She refused to believe he really felt that way. There was a human being underneath all that. She was sure of it. He couldn’t have changed all that much from the person she remembered when she’d had that massive crush on him in high school.
    â€œWhat they want is the opportunity to get together and trade favorite stories about your mother. And what I want,” she added quietly, catching him by surprise, “is for you not to patronize me.”
    Keith frowned. He hadn’t realized that he’d allowed his facade to slip down. He was usually a lot better at keeping his mask in place when dealing with a distasteful situation.
    â€œI wasn’t patronizing you,” he protested.
    Kenzie laughed dryly and rolled her eyes.
    â€œOh, please. I’m an optimist, not an idiot. You’re angry. I get it. But eventually, the anger’s going to pass. If you don’t do this, if you just turn your back on your mother, her friends and everything else, you’re going to regret it. And regret has amazing staying power. It has a tendency to haunt us for a very long time.”
    He doubted that Kenzie had ever regretted anything in her whole life. He, on the other hand, did. And that was what he was attempting to deal with right now.
    â€œMore philosophy?” he asked flippantly.
    â€œCall it whatever you like. And no, it’s not part of a package deal. It’s on the house,” she added with a tolerant, lopsided smile.
    With that, she scooped the menus up off the coffee table and began to walk out of the room.
    The woman was trying, and he shouldn’t be making it this hard for her. With an inward sigh, he called out to her. “Kenzie?”
    Kenzie paused, then glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”
    â€œWhich one did you decide on?”
    â€œThe one with chicken. There are people who have issues with beef or pork, but almost everyone likes chicken,” she told him.
    It made sense, and Keith nodded. Just as she did cross the threshold, he added what he’d left unsaid. “Thanks for doing this.”
    Again, she looked at Keith over her shoulder and smiled. “No problem,” she assured him.
    And she sounded like she actually meant it.
    * * *
    It was the smell of coffee that woke him the next morning.
    At first, as the aroma wafted into the misty domain comprising his dormant, unconscious state, Keith was sure he was just dreaming.
    But he could still smell the strong aroma when he opened his eyes.
    What the...?
    He was certain that he hadn’t set the coffee machine on a timer. Last night came back to him, and he remembered watching
Executive Decision
, a favorite movie he must have seen at least