Read Online Christmas Star (Contemporary, Romance) by Roz Denny Fox - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roz Denny Fox
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Family Life, Christmas, holiday, Marriage, rancher, Wishes, affair, misunderstanding, Determined, Adopted Daughter, New Father, Headstrong, Married Brother, Family Traditions, Mistaken Belief
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of how much Starr actually owed. Now it sounded as if the senator’s brother wasn’t aware of that—and intended to change things. Well, Starr would be darned if she’d beg.
“Go to hell, Mr. McLeod.” Whirling, she walked away.
Clay dropped his hammer in the hall, closed the door and followed her to the elevator where she was angrily punching the button. He leaned against the wall and slowly rolled down his shirtsleeves. “Does that mean you won’t reconsider San Diego?”
“Look, enough already. Take this up with your brother. He agreed in SeLi’s court hearing that we’d have this place until the adoption’s final. That’s six lousy months.” Seeing his frown, she threw up her hands and headed for the stairs. “Oh, what’s the use?”
Clay mulled over the curve she’d just thrown him. What did Harrison have to do with her adopting an Asian child? Amerasian, he corrected thoughtfully. And the judge in their case was a longtime friend of the McLeods. “Uh, how are you getting to work?” he called. “Blevins said your car is in the shop. Is my big brother providing a limo? If so, you won’t be hard to follow.”
Starr’s steps slowed—although if she kept going and slammed the heavy fire door, she wouldn’t have to listen to him. “I use public transportation, Mr. McLeod,” she said in a tone so sweet it dripped honey. “Bus number 1203. We make twenty-two stops between here and my office. Feel free to count them. I hope you choke on the diesel fumes.”
“Hey,” he yelled seconds before the fire door slammed. “You want a lift? May as well, since I’m going your way.”
Starr almost never swore, but she did so now, succinctly. She’d been wrong about the door; it didn’t block sound as well as she’d thought, judging by the thoroughly masculine laughter that chased her down the stairwell.
Ordinarily she hated waiting for a bus in the rain. Today she welcomed the cooling drizzle. Except that while she stood in the doorway struggling to open her stubborn umbrella, bus number 1203 zipped past without stopping. Blast and damn! It only ran every fifteen minutes. In addition to having a perfectly wretched morning, now it appeared she’d be late to work, as well. Fantastic.
Without warning, the stupid umbrella opened with an unexpected whish. Starr stomped out into the downpour but had barely reached the bus stop when someone honked. Glancing up, she saw Clay McLeod parked at the curb in a big dark Blazer. It figured he’d drive a tank. Starr ground her teeth and ignored him.
He rolled down his window and leaned out, seemingly undisturbed by the slanting rain pummeling his Stetson. “No need to get wet while you sulk. The mature thing to do would be to let me drive you to work.”
Her back teeth all but cracked. Didn’t he just love seeing her shoes getting soaked! Not in a million years would such a jerk expect her to take his offer. Which was exactly why Starr decided to accept.
“You’re absolutely right,” she said amiably. “Never let it be said that a Lederman doesn’t know when to come in out of the rain.” Jumping over a large puddle, she marched toward him. “San Francisco traffic is dreadful when it rains. I trust you’re a good driver, Mr. McLeod.”
Clay made a quick recovery from his surprise. At least enough of one to jump down, slog around the vehicle and gallantly open her door.
By then, though, Starr was thinking maybe she hadn’t been so smart—she’d seen the height of the step and compared it to her slim skirt. Ready to reverse her decision, she turned and met his knowing smirk.
“Problems?” he murmured seductively.
Starr squared her shoulders and shook her head. She laughed, deciding to be honest. “You know I do, darn it. By any chance, does this contraption have a portable step?”
“Afraid not.”
His little half grin irked her. “A gentleman would lace his hands together and make a lady’s first step easier,” she said.
“Now, you
“Go to hell, Mr. McLeod.” Whirling, she walked away.
Clay dropped his hammer in the hall, closed the door and followed her to the elevator where she was angrily punching the button. He leaned against the wall and slowly rolled down his shirtsleeves. “Does that mean you won’t reconsider San Diego?”
“Look, enough already. Take this up with your brother. He agreed in SeLi’s court hearing that we’d have this place until the adoption’s final. That’s six lousy months.” Seeing his frown, she threw up her hands and headed for the stairs. “Oh, what’s the use?”
Clay mulled over the curve she’d just thrown him. What did Harrison have to do with her adopting an Asian child? Amerasian, he corrected thoughtfully. And the judge in their case was a longtime friend of the McLeods. “Uh, how are you getting to work?” he called. “Blevins said your car is in the shop. Is my big brother providing a limo? If so, you won’t be hard to follow.”
Starr’s steps slowed—although if she kept going and slammed the heavy fire door, she wouldn’t have to listen to him. “I use public transportation, Mr. McLeod,” she said in a tone so sweet it dripped honey. “Bus number 1203. We make twenty-two stops between here and my office. Feel free to count them. I hope you choke on the diesel fumes.”
“Hey,” he yelled seconds before the fire door slammed. “You want a lift? May as well, since I’m going your way.”
Starr almost never swore, but she did so now, succinctly. She’d been wrong about the door; it didn’t block sound as well as she’d thought, judging by the thoroughly masculine laughter that chased her down the stairwell.
Ordinarily she hated waiting for a bus in the rain. Today she welcomed the cooling drizzle. Except that while she stood in the doorway struggling to open her stubborn umbrella, bus number 1203 zipped past without stopping. Blast and damn! It only ran every fifteen minutes. In addition to having a perfectly wretched morning, now it appeared she’d be late to work, as well. Fantastic.
Without warning, the stupid umbrella opened with an unexpected whish. Starr stomped out into the downpour but had barely reached the bus stop when someone honked. Glancing up, she saw Clay McLeod parked at the curb in a big dark Blazer. It figured he’d drive a tank. Starr ground her teeth and ignored him.
He rolled down his window and leaned out, seemingly undisturbed by the slanting rain pummeling his Stetson. “No need to get wet while you sulk. The mature thing to do would be to let me drive you to work.”
Her back teeth all but cracked. Didn’t he just love seeing her shoes getting soaked! Not in a million years would such a jerk expect her to take his offer. Which was exactly why Starr decided to accept.
“You’re absolutely right,” she said amiably. “Never let it be said that a Lederman doesn’t know when to come in out of the rain.” Jumping over a large puddle, she marched toward him. “San Francisco traffic is dreadful when it rains. I trust you’re a good driver, Mr. McLeod.”
Clay made a quick recovery from his surprise. At least enough of one to jump down, slog around the vehicle and gallantly open her door.
By then, though, Starr was thinking maybe she hadn’t been so smart—she’d seen the height of the step and compared it to her slim skirt. Ready to reverse her decision, she turned and met his knowing smirk.
“Problems?” he murmured seductively.
Starr squared her shoulders and shook her head. She laughed, deciding to be honest. “You know I do, darn it. By any chance, does this contraption have a portable step?”
“Afraid not.”
His little half grin irked her. “A gentleman would lace his hands together and make a lady’s first step easier,” she said.
“Now, you
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