Christmas Star (Contemporary, Romance) (9 page)

“We’ll freeze, Harrison!” Starr burst out. “Minus ten?”

“You want to put off going in until spring, kid? I don’t want anything happening to my favorite biochemist.”

He laughed when he said it, but Starr frowned. If this situation was as serious as he’d led her to believe, they might be condemning a whole herd. Starr didn’t think it was anything to joke about.

“I’ll survive,” she said firmly. “As you know, I’m a resourceful person.” She
was
resourceful—but he wielded the power. That had been evident the night SeLi’s mother died. Starr had managed to scrounge a bed and blankets for a frightened little girl, but it wasn’t enough for social services. They wouldn’t approve her efficiency apartment for a night, let alone longer. The minute the senator offered her this place and Wanda’s supervisor got a look...well, attitudes changed.

The senator had helped her. Starr knew she was returning the favor by helping him now—on her own terms, to be sure—and by not insisting that he divulge the truth of their relationship. But how could she tell him that Vanessa and his son were cozied upstairs with his own brother? Starr had already decided that she couldn’t when suddenly a long shadow fell across her bed. She almost dropped the phone, but hastened to grab it before it hit the floor.

She gasped at the sight of Clay McLeod in her doorway. He might have one thumb hooked casually over his low-riding belt, but there was no mistaking the icy resentment in his eyes.

“Uh, I’ve got to go now,” she murmured into the receiver. “Yes. We’ll touch base before I leave.” Hesitating, she frowned and said more softly, “I will take care... Bye.” A click and a hum signaled that the senator had hung up.

Starr’s heart pounded unevenly. She tried to act nonchalant as she replaced the receiver. She sensed more than saw Clay push away from the door and move toward her. Her hand remained on the phone. How much had he overheard? What, if anything, had she said about the actual project?

In a moment he hovered over her.

“I was just coming back,” she said, dredging up a smile. “Thank goodness for microwaves. That burger will be stone cold by now.”

Clay bent and smoothed the back of his hand beneath her jaw. “So, you’ll freeze without your lover to keep you warm, eh?” His controlled voice was dangerously soft. “Some business call, Starr. Monkey business?”

Starr felt trapped. What could she say, bound as she was by a promise of secrecy? “No, you don’t understand.” The protest sounded feeble even to her ears.

“Oh, I think I understand,” he said. “By the way, in case you care, Darcy, Joe and the boys went home. They gave up waiting for you to remember your manners. They were good enough to see Morgan home. And SeLi went to take a bath.” His eyes glittered.

“You should have left, too,” Starr said. Knowing she was virtually alone with him made her feel a little like a mouse cornered by a cat.

“I was just thinking it was a good thing I stayed—to see if
I
can’t warm you up.” As his work-roughened hands settled softly on either side of her face, Starr did indeed begin to feel an infusion of heat. It started at her toes and worked its way up her body.

“No,” she whispered, even though part of her yearned to say yes to another of his kisses.

“Yes,” he countered, saying it for her, lips a scant inch from hers.

At exactly what point the test of wills sparked genuine passion between them, Starr would have been hard-pressed to say. But somehow, one or the other closed the distance, bringing their lips together and Starr squarely into his arms. His mouth came down hard, then softened at once to a downy whisper.

The room around Starr faded as reality became a sudden feverish exploration of lips and hands.

Clay sank down beside her on the bed and trailed kisses toward the deep
V
of her sweater. He groaned. Wanting to touch more of her skin, he tugged it up from the bottom.

She ignored the brush of cool air across her lower back and leaned into his welcoming heat. When his fingers released the catch of her bra and freed her breasts into his waiting hands, Star skated smoothly past a boundary she rarely let any man cross.

Seeking the same freedom to explore him, she reached under his cable-knit sweater and separated the pearl buttons that ran down the front of his shirt. Her pursuit of his skin was stopped by the wide, silver buckle of his belt.

His control slipping, Clay let himself be dragged to the brink by what he knew to be Starr’s practiced onslaught. Falling backward with her across the wide bed, Clay stripped off his sweater—in preparation for any or all pleasures she had to offer.

Dizzied by the comfort of his broad chest and the feel of his damp tongue tracing her ear, Starr missed hearing SeLi call out that she’d finished her bath.

Clay heard. He tensed and rolled away, cursing his lack of foresight in not closing and locking the door.

Unceremoniously dumped on the center of the bed, Starr sat up and surveyed Clay without comprehension.

He scrambled to his knees and passed a calming hand over his eyes.

Starr followed, trailing a hand up his chest.

It took more than a small effort on Clay’s part to get off the bed and leave her there. His hands shook visibly as his fingers fumbled with the snaps on his shirt. Dammit, he didn’t
want
to want this woman. He only wanted her out of Harrison’s life. Was that so difficult to accomplish?

Starr saw the cold mask that dropped over his eyes. It edged out her glow of desire. Full realization of what had happened hit her when the weight of her sweater made it slide down, brushing the sensitive tips of her nipples.

She wanted to rage. She wanted to cry. Doing neither, she climbed off the bed, pointed at the door and said without any inflection, “It’s time for you to leave now.”

Clay shrugged into his sweater. Oh, she was a cool one, all right, damn her sweet little hide. With a brittle laugh, he chucked her under that haughty chin and murmured, “Like I said, you’re easily warmed—but not by my brother. Not anymore.” Looking her in the eye, he missed the twin spots of color that blossomed on her cheeks. “Is that clear, Starr? This is the last time I’m going to tell you to leave him alone.”

“But I...I...” His hateful derision sparked a quick denial, until in the next breath she remembered how much was at stake. With the entire state of California on the edge of bankruptcy and a herd of endangered sheep dying, what did it matter if one man had a terribly false impression of her? And especially this man, who was far from sainthood himself.

But saintly or not, Barclay McLeod made her want things no man ever made her want before. Why was that? Darn it—life wasn’t fair. Her stomach heaved in anger, then sank in despair. And she might have taken him to task for his own infidelity had she not heard SeLi skipping down the hall.

Struggling to maintain a semblance of dignity, she stepped past him to her bedroom door.

Clay didn’t know when to let up. “If Harrison invited you to spend Christmas at the ranch, consider yourself uninvited. I’ve spoiled
this
love nest for you, and I can damn well spoil another.”

“Get out,” Starr snarled, grasping the doorknob for support. “Out of my bedroom. Out of my apartment. Out of my life.” She was beginning to shake, and she hated having him see her fall apart. “You don’t know
anything.
“

He moved close and stroked her cheek, ready to deliver a parting shot just as SeLi bounced into the room, her smile aglow.

Frilly baby-doll pajamas seemed at odds with her impish grin. For a moment she balanced on her toes, then with a muttered “Oops,” backed from the room.

“SeLi, stay.” Starr’s plea sounded almost desperate.

The girl poked her head back inside apprehensively.

“Mr. McLeod and I were discussing some, er, unfinished business. He was just leaving,” she said brightly. “Let me lock up after him, then I’ll come tuck you in and read you a story. Did you have a nice soak?”

“Sure thing, Mom.” SeLi glanced uneasily from one adult to the other. “You guys had business like Joe and Darcy, huh?”

Starr gasped.

It was all Clay could do to hide a smile.

Starr gripped SeLi’s shoulder tightly. “We certainly did not...” Growling in frustration and not finishing her sentence, she loosened her hold on the child and marched purposefully toward the front door. SeLi, wise beyond her years, didn’t need something like this added to her education.

Lips compressed, Starr opened the door and gestured Clay out. She hated it when his arm accidentally brushed her, and hated it more that her body reacted predictably.

He whirled suddenly, stopped and dropped an impersonal kiss on Starr’s forehead. Near her ear he murmured, “Out of the mouths of babes...”

She recoiled, but not before he felt the fine tremor his kiss had caused.

“G’night princess.” Clay aimed a smile and a wave at SeLi over Starr’s shoulder. Sliding an arm around Starr, he tugged the doorknob from her limp grasp and closed the door with a solid bang.

They heard his jaunty whistle as he headed down the hall.

What Starr didn’t know was that he stood staring at the elevator for a long while, waiting to regain his own balance.

SeLi sighed and feigned drama, bringing a wrist to forehead. “Like I said before, Mom, whatta hunk!”

“To bed,” Starr snapped. “I can think of several more accurate adjectives to describe Barclay McLeod, most of which would get your mouth washed out with soap. Now scoot—the subject is closed.”

“But Mom, I gotta go see if the Christmas star is out. Nana Patrice swears it’s magic.”

She looked so eager Starr didn’t have the heart to refuse. She wanted life to be magic for SeLi. Together they ran to the window. Both were disappointed to see only fog.

In his suite of rooms in the penthouse above, Clay gazed from a window that overlooked the bay. He’d searched until he found a stale cigarette. It was a habit he’d kicked months ago but now felt a desperate need to renew, thanks to the woman downstairs.

After two drags of the tasteless tobacco, he angrily crushed it in a spotless ashtray.

Leaning against the cool glass, Clay watched the wispy whorls of fog obliterate his view. Occasional searchlights from the harbor cut through the mist, making ghostly, shapeless patterns on the wall above his bed. His mind locked on the pulsing circles of light.

Clay wanted—no,
needed
to stay furious with Starr Lederman. It sounded simple; why was it suddenly so hard?

F
OR THE BETTER PART OF
two weeks, Starr managed to dodge Clay. Monday—with Christmas break starting on Thursday—she picked SeLi up at school. In frantic haste they hit the malls, looking at Christmas decorations and shopping for Starr’s parents and SeLi’s friends on the wharf.

“I can’t decide what to get Trader John,” SeLi wailed. “He has a pipe and never has tobacco to put in it. But he loves to play cards and his deck has one missing. He found it in the trash, so he and Woody hafta pretend.”

Starr’s heart gave a little lurch. She’d always had so much—at least material things. “Get John the tobacco and Woody the cards. I thought we’d buy them each a warm jacket, too. Yesterday when we saw them, I noticed theirs were thin and frayed.”

SeLi’s eyes misted. She scrubbed at them. “Way cool, Mom. I bet they never had nothin’ brand-new before. But things get stole, ya know.”

Swallowing back her own emotion, Starr cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I saw some advertised where they’ll embroider a name on the pocket for free. If we get one green and one blue, that should work, right?”

Tears slid down the child’s cheeks. “R-right.” She sniffed into her sleeve as she curled her fingers tightly around Starr’s hand.

Starr smiled and gave her daughter an awkward hug around the packages they both carried. “Who’s next on our list?” she asked brightly.

“Mike, Kevin, Moe, and can I get something for Clay?” The tears were fully banked now, and the dark eyes gazed imploringly at Starr.

“Oh, SeLi, I don’t think...” Starr’s voice ended in a little catch.

“Please, please, please.” SeLi finished with a skip and a bounce before Starr could restate her objection.

“Honey, we don’t know the McLeods well enough to buy them gifts. Moe might feel obligated to get you something in return.” It was late and Starr was too warm. Plus, she was tired and hungry. “Let’s put these in the car and grab a bite to eat at Good Earth while we look our lists over again.”

“Good Earth? Where we went with Stanley Stud? Yuck.”

“SeLi.” Starr pressed her lips, then decided to let it go. “I thought you liked their soup. Anyway, it’s almost time for Wanda’s monthly visit. I have to mention that we’ve eaten something nutritious.”

“Okay.” SeLi kicked one toe against the other sneaker. “But I ain’t gonna change my mind about gettin’ Moe and Clay somethin’ for Christmas.”

Starr pursed her lips, for all the good it did.

Later, somewhat renewed, they shopped again. SeLi managed on the money she’d squirreled away to combine the twins’ gifts into a single board game. That left her enough to buy Morgan and Clay each something small.

Starr resigned herself to the fact, saying over and over,
‘Tis the season,
until they rounded a corner in one department store and collided head-on with the two males under discussion.

“Sorry.” Clay reached out a hand to steady Starr, but it was too late. She lost her grip on a bag, which fell to the tile floor with an ominous crack, followed by a sickening tinkle.

“Oh, no!” she said, bending quickly to reach for the Baccarat bell she’d bought to add to her mother’s collection.

Both children’s eyes widened in horror. Clay knelt, too, picking up the bag first and said, “God, I’m sorry. We were looking at those picture frames and...well, this is a blind corner. Not expensive, I hope.” His dark brows dipped.

It was. Very expensive. Although Starr wasn’t about to tell him. He would assume the money had come from his brother. She shook her head, trying to make light of the incident.

But SeLi blurted, “It cost a hunnerd and twenty dollars.”

Clay leapt to his feet, the bag clinking in his hand. “One hundred and twenty dollars? What is it, a Ming vase?”

Flushed, Starr snatched it out of his hand. “It
is
a collector’s bell. Maybe what we hear is the clapper. Good day, Mr. McLeod.”

“Wait.” He caught her arm. “Moe and I were just going to get chocolate sundaes. Will you and SeLi join us? We can check the extent of the damage.”

Starr glanced away. Why did he have to have such a winsome smile? Damn. Maybe the wrong brother was in politics. All she wanted to do was escape. But the kids were dancing up and down, and frankly she was ready to give up shopping for the day. “All right,” she agreed grudgingly. “Will Morgan’s mother be joining us?”

“No. She’s ill. Anyway, do you think I’d put her in such an awkward position?” Shifting his packages, he reached to take Starr’s.

She pulled back sharply. “Thank you, but I believe you’ve done quite enough damage for one day. And I don’t need to stay and be insulted.”

“I’m sorry, Starr. Don’t go. The kids will be disappointed.”

Starr looked around for SeLi, only to see that she and Morgan had joined hands and were skipping happily toward the ice-cream parlor. She sighed.

Clay followed her gaze. “They get along well. They’ve bonded...like kin.”

Glancing at the children, SeLi with her dark braids slapping the back pockets of her jeans and Morgan so fair, Starr had to laugh. “That’s some imagination, McLeod. For those two to be related would take multicultural blending in a Cuisinart.”

As Clay reached for the door Morgan had opened to allow them through the door to the parlor, he frowned down at the top of Starr’s head. Was it true—or was it meant to throw him off? He had no chance to question her further, because the small place was packed. And later, Starr refused his offer to walk them to her car.

Driving home, Starr thought she’d scream if SeLi said one more word about the man they’d just left, who had apparently become her idol.

“Wasn’t it big-o of Clay to say he’d get Nana Patrice a new bell?” SeLi said for at least the tenth time. “Tomorrow, after school, he’s gonna bring Moe to our place to play Parcheesi. Is it like Monopoly? Do you think we can have them stay for dinner again, Mom?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

SeLi pouted. “Why not? We all gotta eat.”

“I don’t want to discuss the McLeods. They have their lives and we have ours. Morgan’s mother hasn’t been well. I’m sure she’d like them home.”

“She doesn’t. Moe said. Jeez...at this rate, I ain’t never gonna end up with a dad.”

Starr almost lost her grip on the wheel. “SeLi, you have to get that idea out of your head. He’s the last man I’d consider. Give it up. Besides, tomorrow night we have to wrap these gifts. Wednesday we’ll deliver them. And we have to pack. Friday we leave. One of my father’s staff is delivering the motor home to us. I thought we might have to fly to L.A. to pick it up, but he called to say he had business here. Guess you’ll have to wait for your first airplane ride.”

“Clay’s got his own plane. Bet he’d give me a ride.”

“Enough, SeLi.”

The girl crossed her arms and sulked. Then, she sat up and asked, “Do you think Nana Patrice lied about that ol’ Christmas star? I ain’t seen a single star all week.”

Glad to be off the subject of the McLeods, Starr smiled. “I was born in Southern California. Stars are more visible there in the winter.”

“Izzat where we’re goin’ on vacation?”

Starr thought about having to drive a bulky motor home over the twisting Grapevine, south through the L.A. interchange. “Through there and beyond,” she murmured.

Seemingly satisfied, SeLi leaned back and smiled.

Starr yawned, enjoying the welcome respite. In her head, she rechecked all that needed doing. But if time seemed short for her, the bighorn sheep had even less. Which was an awful, sobering thought.

* * *

F
REE
WAS THE FIRST WORD
that came to Starr’s mind as she maneuvered the lumbering motor home across the Oakland Bay Bridge in the quiet morning fog and picked up highway 580 southbound.

The past week had been draining.

Every time she turned around she’d tripped over Clay McLeod. She’d even packed the motor home in the middle of the night to avoid him. Thanks to Stanley, Clay knew she’d planned a trip to the San Jacinto preserve. Thank goodness he didn’t know the exact dates, and she didn’t want him—or SeLi, for that matter—to see her stashing Christmas gifts in the vehicle.

Not that she anticipated trouble. But in case she didn’t get results within the allotted week, she’d packed presents and Christmas-tree decorations.

Her mother, bless her, almost lost it when Starr wouldn’t promise to be back for
the
Christmas Eve party. There was a certain dentist Patrice Lederman wanted her daughter to meet.

Starr smiled. She’d deliberately left seeing her mother until the last minute because she could quote the lecture verbatim.

“Starr, you’re crazy!
Cra...zee!
“ Patrice had said—as Starr, of course, had known she would. “Whatever possessed you to take a child and go off into the wilderness?”

Nor was that all. “A man, that’s what you need. A man to take care of you and SeLi. Just the other night I met a divorced dentist at my group therapy who’d be perfect for you. Let me fix you up.”

Her mother was always trying to fix her up. First it had been a young psychiatrist with more problems than his patients, followed by a fortyish attorney looking for wife number five. Next had been a fairly decent-looking metaphysicist. Only it turned out that he wore more crystals than Merlin and spent most of a very boring evening talking about how their auras intertwined.

Good grief. If a man was single and had sufficient money, Patrice considered him a suitable candidate for marriage to Starr and roped him in to attending one of her famous parties. Starr’s smile faded. Sadly she wondered if her mother would ever grow up.

She cast a quick glance at SeLi, who for the first time had nothing to say. The girl’s excitement had peaked last night. She’d nearly driven Starr to the brink of distraction with her endless questions. And when Starr put SeLi to work gathering cold-weather gear, SeLi was convinced she’d lied—that they were going to Alaska where she’d never see the Christmas star. Now the same child sat in the passenger seat with her nose glued to the window, not wanting to miss a single rooftop in the slowly waking city.

Starr exited the Piedmont interchange, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the highway widened and traffic thinned. “Is something wrong, SeLi?” she asked ten minutes later. “I’ve never known you to be quiet for this long.”

Button black eyes met Starr’s. SeLi spoke in hushed tones. “Are you sure you can drive a house, Mom? I didn’t know they came with wheels. Sometimes it looks like we’re hangin’ right off the road.”

Laughter bubbled from Starr’s lips. SeLi was always so remarkably self-possessed Starr hadn’t considered the possibility that she might find this new experience frightening.

“Relax, kid. My dad used this on location for years. I cut my teeth driving it when I was sixteen. I’m a little rusty, but we’ve got a long stretch of wide, smooth road ahead to practice on. Check the map and pick a good spot for lunch. Remember, you’re my official navigator.”

SeLi stared at the pictures on the cover of the state map. “Moe’s been to Disneyland oodles of times,” she said. “He doesn’t like the Pirates’ Cave or the Haunted House, ‘cause he says they’re scary.”

Starr took her eyes off the road long enough to watch SeLi touch the colorful pictures. A trip to Disneyland was something she was keeping in reserve until the adoption was final. She didn’t want Wanda accusing her of trying to buy SeLi’s affection.

Sounding very adult, SeLi said, “Moe’s afraid of his own shadow. Kevin calls him wimpy.” She grimaced. “For sure he’s nothin’ like his uncle Clay.”

Starr’s palms grew damp on the steering wheel at the mention of Clay.

SeLi flopped back in the seat and squirmed until she found a comfortable spot. “Moe doesn’t have a dad, neither,” she said abruptly. “That’s why Kevin said that—’cause Moe told us he cries about it at night.” SeLi’s brows rose. “I told Kevin I’d smack him if he teases Moe again. I ain’t cried for ages, but I know how Moe feels.”

“But Morgan does have a father,” Starr said. Noting SeLi’s shock, Starr wondered why she’d opened her mouth. Still, wasn’t it best to tell SeLi the truth?

If Harrison was right and Clay and Vanessa eventually went back to the ranch, SeLi might never see Morgan McLeod again. Just now, however, SeLi wasn’t willing to let the subject drop.

“Who’s his dad?” she demanded.

“Senator McLeod, Seli. You know, the man I’m doing this project for? Morgan’s parents aren’t living together at the moment, but that doesn’t change the fact that Morgan has a father. One who loves him.”

SeLi sat unmoving for so long Starr had about decided she’d either accepted the explanation or dismissed the subject. All at once she said, “Ain’t that dude too old to be Moe’s dad? Moe’s mom’s no older’n you.”

Starr cleared her throat. “Fathers come in all sizes, shapes, colors and ages, SeLi. There isn’t just one kind. I’m sure the senator would be a good father if he wasn’t so busy. I know for a fact that he misses Morgan.”

But instead of picturing Harrison in a fatherly role, Starr’s mind conjured up his younger brother. A haunting memory of Clay intruded—the way he’d looked teaching the children to play Monopoly. It sent her heart rate up a notch or two. She forced her mind onto other things.

Shortly thereafter, although the motor home was running well, the monotony of mile after mile of farmland created a dull ache behind Starr’s eyes. She stopped for an early lunch and a chance to study the map showing the maze of Southern California freeways.

Starr used to divide her time between her mother’s home in Sausalito and movie sets in Hollywood with Samuel Lederman. Back then, she’d been proficient at jockeying the network of super highways. Her eyes clouded; she’d always hated being bounced between her parents like a rubber ball.

Trying to hide her disquieting thoughts, Starr helped SeLi out of the motor home. A brisk wind caught her poplin rain jacket, and she rubbed the tension from her neck; already the air smelled cleaner.

“Look.” She turned SeLi’s head into the east wind and pointed out the snow-capped Tehachapi Mountains in the distance. Rising sharply from the valley floor, they resembled a row of vanilla ice-cream cones.