Keep On Loving you by Christie Ridgway Page B

with wide shoulders and a sturdy build. “Jace, right?”
    The other man’s grip was strong. “Nice to meet you.” He indicated a teenager a step behind him. “My daughter, London.”
    She sketched a wave. Zan followed suit.
    Then Brett was in his face. “You live. And you’re here, once again mooching a Walker meal.”
    â€œSome things never change.” Except others did, because then he was meeting the man’s wife , Angelica, an exotic brunette with a smile that could melt steel. He glanced at his old friend. “I’m speechless.”
    Brett smiled, slow, his gaze resting on his bride’s face. “I’m a lucky SOB.”
    But Zan would swear that was him as the chatter rose around him. When he’d called Poppy to say hello, she’d mentioned a family dinner and, as she’d said, he’d invited himself. So once again he was in the midst of chatter and laughter and teasing, just as if he’d never left. Their warmth and camaraderie had always been on loan, of course; he wasn’t really part of their clan, but he fell right into the comfort of it, like a big feather bed.
    Okay, he might have experienced a brief pang of melancholy when he compared this convivial atmosphere to the mausoleum-ish air of his grandfather’s house, knowing he’d have to return to it at evening’s end, but then somebody handed him another beer. Following that, Poppy passed him a small plate of appetizers—including little tiny hot dogs covered in puff pastry that a man would have to be dead not to appreciate—and then another presence strode into the kitchen.
    Mackenzie.
    Mason claimed her attention first, followed by Grimm. She bent to kiss the boy’s head and followed up by petting the dog. Then she straightened, and he swallowed, hard. For some reason his throat felt tight.
    A big, ivory-colored sweater swallowed her slim frame. It had a lace inset at the neck, making it nearly transparent from her collarbone to her cleavage. Ruffles of the stuff hung from the knitted hem. Denim clung to her legs and she wore tall leather boots that strode across the floor as she moved among her family members, dispensing hugs and kisses.
    Then she turned toward the island, where he sat, and the crowd shifted.
    Their eyes met.
    A chill washed over his skin as her gaze turned icy.
    Whoops. She was still mad about that kiss. He popped off the stool and reached for the open wine bottle nearby. A free glass sat beside it and he poured out a healthy dose, then took it to Mac like a peace offering. “How was your day?” he asked, pressing the stem into her hand.
    â€œWhy are you here?”
    â€œTo eat dinner,” Poppy called out, fortunately leaving out the part where he’d invited himself. “And it’s time.” She removed a huge casserole dish from the oven.
    The exodus from the kitchen to the dining room and its long table covered over any further Zan-Mac awkwardness. She ended up across from him and a couple of seats down, but that was all right. If she and her temper needed space after their lip-lock in her office a couple of days before, so be it.
    Okay, maybe he was a little ticked that she was ticked. It wasn’t as if it had been intentional.
    Lie.
    But he hadn’t intended it to happen, that was true. The opportunity had just presented itself as she moved her lips toward him, coming in for a cheek-swipe. Instead of offering up the side of his face, he’d cheated just a little and provided his mouth instead.
    Sue him.
    He hadn’t even tried any tongue.
    But still, the kiss had been electric. Zing. Hiss. Wowza.
    Mac had panicked, jerking away and staring at him through accusatory eyes. That won’t happen again , she’d said.
    He’d responded with a shrug and left as he’d promised, happy enough that it had happened once. Not that he’d explained any of that. But why wouldn’t he be pleased that