Free Christmas Star (Contemporary, Romance) by Roz Denny Fox

know. I’m no gentleman.” A wicked laugh lurked just below the surface of his words. Then without warning, Clay slid his large hands beneath her coat and spanned her waist. Taking his own sweet time, he boosted her up and into the cab.
    Starr felt her skirt slither to midthigh. Unfortunately she had her purse, her lunch and a half-open umbrella to dispense with before she had a hand free to yank it down. She could well imagine the back view she presented for Barclay McLeod’s pleasure.
    “Mmm,” Clay murmured as he let go and thumbed his hat back on his head.
    Dropping her things, Starr gave a sharp tug on the back of her coat. She treated him to her best glare and plopped down onto the seat. But she’d forgotten he was so tall. Sitting placed her nose at level with his very white, toothpaste-ad smile.
    Without warning, Clay leaned forward and brushed a cool kiss over her lips. Then he stepped back and calmly shut her in.
    Shock waves ricocheted clear to Starr’s toes. Her entire body bucked as the door’s latch engaged, cutting off any chance of escape. Dazed, she watched the outline of his broad shoulders through a window speckled by rain as he circled the hood and slid beneath the steering wheel.
    “So,” he said without a hint of inflection, “which way? And don’t give me the bus route,” he said over the sound of the engine. “I’m not about to make twenty-two stops.” Casually he removed his damp hat and dropped it on the seat between them.
    As if in slow motion, Starr faced front and broke the all-too-compelling connection with his gaze. Every nerve in her body was functioning on overdrive.
    She desperately wanted to appear controlled. Better yet, bored. The very last thing she wanted was to blurt like some ninny, “Did you kiss me?” Yet that was exactly what came out of her mouth.
    Clay’s dark brows arched to meet a dark curl that refused to be tamed. “Sugar, when I kiss a woman, she doesn’t normally ask if I did. Now, about that route? I hate to press, but we’re in a bus zone and one of those stretch models is stopped back there at the light.”
    “I meant...you did kiss me. Why?”
    With a steady hand, he injected a CD into a state-of-the-art system that promptly filled the cab with a bluesy country tune. “I couldn’t have you thinking my curb service is less...satisfactory than Harrison’s, could I?”
    “You are the most desp—”
    “Despicable man,” he finished. “I know, but it won’t matter in a minute ‘cause, honey, we’re gonna get creamed if you don’t give me some directions.”
    Between the hiss of air brakes and furious blasts from the angry horn of the bus, Starr rattled off an entire set of directions without taking a breath. “Left lane for a block, left at the light, right at the corner. Go three miles on the freeway to the first exit, make a left, a right, then another left.”
    Clay swore and bulldozed his way into a busy lane.
    Starr smiled. “Oh, did I go too fast? Sorry.”
    “Not to worry. I know the way to your office. I thought you were going to see a woman named Manning this morning. I assumed you meant before work. My mistake.”
    Starr froze. Either he had an uncanny memory or he did indeed plan to follow her everywhere. “I’m going to work,” she said too fast. “I’m not sure Mrs. Manning will have time to see me today.” She took care to avoid his eyes. “What with all this rain, I may even skip going.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. So if you persist in this silly little spy game, there’s no need to drive back into town until five.” She recalled the hammer he’d been holding when she’d gone to the door of the penthouse. “I’d hate for you not to finish Vanessa’s carpentry project.”
    “Leave her out of this. I intend to check on you at lunch.”
    Starr dangled a brown paper bag in front of his nose. “Corned beef on rye. Another boring lunch at my desk. But, gee, if I’d known you were coming, I’d have made you a