White Wedding For A Southern Belle. Susan Carlisle

his deep, rich voice was something she wouldn’t soon forget.

      Ashley walked away. She wasn’t into being held by strange men, so she was both surprised and relieved that he hadn’t insisted she dance the slower song. If she was less cautious she might have enjoyed being in this stranger’s arms, but she knew too well what could happen when you weren’t careful...

      * * *

      Dr. Kiefer Bradford watched the tiny leprechaun cross the room and speak to a few people as she left him on the dance floor. He might have pursued her but his mother wouldn’t appreciate him picking up a one-night stand at her event and he’d no interest in anything longer. After what his ex-wife had done to him he had no intention of stepping into a serious relationship again. She’d seen to it that he didn’t believe anything a woman said.

      The only reason he was at his mother’s costume ball was because he’d been in town for a job interview. When his former best friend, Josh—now his ex-wife’s husband—had been made director of the ER at the Atlanta hospital where Kiefer worked, it had been time for him to get out of town.

      He was tired of dodging Josh. The whispers of the staff. The pitying faces of his friends. And, worse, the anger he continued to feel. Savannah was his home. He still owned a place here. He’d come back and leave all the ugliness behind.

      Kiefer saw the leprechaun a few more times around the room but never on the dance floor. Twice they were almost close enough to speak but then she was gone. Anyway, he’d done his duty and he was ready to go. Enough green for him today. He’d watch and hear the rest of the fun from the balcony of his apartment.

      As he was on his way out to the lobby, the leprechaun was coming out of a door to the right. Just as he was about to pass her Kiefer saw his ex-wife, Brittney, and Josh coming toward him among a group of people. Despite the festive dress, he recognized them.

      Apprehension and anger rushed through him. Even here they still interrupted his life. They must have come to town for St. Patrick’s Day. Brittney was from Savannah as well. Regardless of their history, his mother’s party was the go-to event in town, so of course they wouldn’t miss it.

      Kiefer didn’t want to speak with Brittney and Josh or want them to see him leaving alone. Without thinking, he grabbed the leprechaun as she passed.

      Her small yelp of surprise made him pause for a second before his mouth found hers and he backed her against the wall. Her lips were soft and sweet beneath his. Her hands braced against his chest, pushed and then relaxed against him. Seconds later they slid to his waist. He shifted his mouth to gain a better advantage. One of his hands moved to cup her cheek.

      Through the fog of desire welling up Kiefer heard the group pass. He forced himself to back away, letting his lips slowly leave the leprechaun’s. The longing to find them again filled him but he’d already stepped over the line.

      “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, standing between him and the wall, his hand still cupping her face.

      “Saying thank you for those dances.”

      The leprechaun huffed. “By accosting me?”

      He shrugged and removed his hand. As he did so the button on the sleeve of his coat caught in the necklace around her neck.

      “Stop. Be careful. Don’t break it.” Her voice rose.

      Why was she overreacting about a simple necklace with a funny-looking stone on it?

      He held his arm motionless while she worked to release the chain. The shamrock on top of her hat bobbed against his nose. She smelled like baking cookies.

      “Got it.” She looked up.

      This leprechaun had the most beautiful doe-brown eyes he’d ever seen. Kiefer leaned in. She pushed against his chest. He stumbled backward and she hurried past him, disappearing into the crowded ballroom.

      That leprechaun had certainly made this St. Patrick’s Day memorable.

      Three months later

      Kiefer was back in Savannah and driving through Southriver. He wasn’t having his first reservation or second but third about being in this part of town at this time of day. During his teen and college years Southriver had been the area where everyone had gone to find or buy a good time. Apparently that hadn’t changed.

      When the medical director of Savannah Medical Center had questioned him about working at the Southriver clinic during the interview, Kiefer had thought of it as more of a what-if sort of question instead of a sure thing. He liked the adrenaline rush a large ER offered but he needed to get out of Atlanta. Seeing Josh regularly after what he and Brittney had done to him wasn’t working. The staff was too aware of the tension between them.

      Being the clinic physician wasn’t his first choice but at least it would prove his leadership and organizational skills for an opportunity down the road. Three to six months at the clinic and maybe he could transfer to the ER or apply for a departmental spot at the hospital.

      As he continued down the street the number of people sitting on the steps of houses increased. It was already hot and steamy for the early days of summer and this evening was no different. These people were doing anything they could to catch a breeze. In front of a few homes children played. Maybe the revitalization of the area was starting to work.

      The appearance of the neighborhood improved the farther he drove. The blocks behind him had empty buildings with grass growing in the cracks of the sidewalk and trash blown against the curb. All signs of inner-city apathy. In contrast, the closer he came to the address he was looking for, the better kept the houses and businesses looked. Many were newly painted, with fresh signs above storefronts and flowering plants hung from light posts. This went on for one block but the next started showing the neglected look of the earlier ones.

      What the...?

      Just ahead of him a group of males who wore their pants low on their hips and matching bandannas on their biceps stood aggressively facing a woman in front of a three-story brownstone. The woman was Ashley Marsh. Kiefer recognized her from a couple of TV interviews he’d seen since his return.

      The best he could tell, she was a crusader of the highest order. As a child of someone who took on causes—sometimes to her own detriment—he was weary of what Ashley’s plans might be. In her interviews he’d found her articulate and intelligent, if not a little antagonistic for his taste.

      Kiefer wasn’t particularly impressed. He believed in helping people—after all, that was why he’d become a doctor—but he also expected people to help themselves. Not everyone could be saved. Sometimes people were just not worth it.

      What he knew of Ashley Marsh reminded Kiefer too much of his mother. That “help everyone, all people are good” view of life made Kiefer a little leery of Ashley Marsh. Advocates often saw the picture through rose-colored glasses. Ms. Marsh struck him as being that type of person. If he were ever interested in a woman again it wouldn’t be in someone who didn’t show more restraint where people were concerned.

      As he drew closer he could see that Ashley was talking to the group, gesturing with her hands.

      One of the young men made an aggressive move forward. To her credit, she didn’t back away.

      Kiefer’s hands tightened on the wheel. All the ugly memories of a day so long ago, when his mother had been attacked, came flooding back. The man off the street, his mother begging him not to kill her, his mother falling to the floor, the man going through her purse and Kiefer watching it all helplessly through the slats of the pantry door. He’d sworn then he would never again stand idly by while someone was being threatened.

      His tires squealed as he quickly pulled into a parking lot next to the building. The group turned toward him. At least their attention was drawn away from Alderman Marsh. Kiefer hopped out and circled the truck, putting himself between her and the gang.

      “Hey, man, who’re you?” growled the man Kiefer had pegged as the leader of the group. His dark hair was long and pulled