Christmas Star (Contemporary, Romance) by Roz Denny Fox Page B

him of the unclean feeling—although if Starr Lederman was any better than the woman upstairs, he wouldn’t have two empty frames in his picture slots. One a school photo of Morgan, the other a candid shot of himself that Vanessa had taken last Christmas.
    Starr had lied when she’d said nothing was missing from his wallet. Why? It was time he found out more about her. What if she was a blind? A lovely decoy for somebody who might be blackmailing his brother?
    Clay tried, but he couldn’t recall exactly what she’d said at their first encounter. Something about environmentalists or wildlife advocates. She worked in Fish and Game, and there was definitely something fishy going on.
    He stopped on the first floor to dig out his keys. Outside the rain was no longer just a drizzle. It was a downpour. Traffic crawled. So what would the lady in question do, he wondered, if he grabbed a sandwich at the deli he’d seen nearby and just dropped in on her at lunchtime?
    The harder it rained, the more appeal the idea held.
    The deli was crowded. Clay placed his order, took the number they gave him and wandered through the packed tables into an attached flower shop that was all decked out for the holidays. The bright red poinsettias had originally attracted him, but he paused to touch the petals of a peach-colored rose that seemed out of place among the cedar and pine. Its petals looked lush and soft—like Starr Lederman’s skin.
    Flushing, he stepped back and glanced around to see if anyone noticed his odd reaction. Then, sidestepping the display, he turned the corner and promptly stumbled over an entire bucket of those same flesh-colored blooms. Clay stared at them for what seemed an endless moment—until he realized someone had announced his number over a loudspeaker.
    It felt like a reprieve. Clay found it much easier to deal with a pastrami-and-provolone than these uncharacteristic emotions involving Starr Lederman that sucker-punched him at inopportune times.
    Which was why it made not a lick of sense when, after paying for his sandwich, he wound up buying two of the roses.
    A cheerful clerk wrapped them in waxy paper with stalks of some wispy white stuff and a sprig of Christmas greenery. All this for a woman he didn’t even like.
    As Clay inched through noon-hour traffic headed for Starr’s building, he gave up questioning his impulsive action and just accepted it. He’d already parked, climbed out and was wondering idly why anyone chose to live in the city when he saw her dashing through the rain toward a waiting cab. She wasn’t alone. Her fingers were linked with those of some skinny guy with a receding hairline and horn-rimmed glasses.
    Clay suffered a swift feeling of betrayal. Anger nipped at its heels.
    Calling himself all kinds of a fool for standing in the rain holding a wet bouquet like some idiot teenager, Clay tossed the flowers and the sack with his sandwich into a nearby trash receptacle. Then he yanked open the door and climbed back in, staring furiously out the windshield.
    Like hell she was eating lunch at her desk today.
    He watched the couple’s taxi pull out onto a rain-slick street. Hands unsteady, he jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot behind them.
    Lie to him, would she?
    Did Harrison know how she spent her lunch hours?
    Somehow Clay doubted he did.
    Well, wouldn’t little Miss Lying-through-her-teeth Lederman be shocked when he broke up her noon-hour quickie?

CHAPTER FIVE
    S TARR PAID the cabdriver and dashed after Dr. Stanley Ellsworth between parked cars and through the rain into a trendy new restaurant. She glanced at the ice blue Christmas trees with their crystal cherubs as she shed her dripping coat and smoothed her wet hair. It was time to engage in another round of verbal sparring with her colleague.
    “Stanley, I need six serum-test kits and three extra packs of vials. You said Mr. Jensen explained I was going on special