Suddenly Starr reined in sharply and reached for her binoculars. She trained them on a mound of snow that didn’t seem to fit the other contours. Bringing it into focus, she gnawed at her lower lip.
Protruding from the misshapen pile of snow was the gray-brown curl of a massive set of sheep horns. Her stomach knotted.
Quickly she tethered the mare, grabbed her rucksack and slid down the rocky slope until she reached the downed sheep. The ram, a superb specimen, had been dead awhile. Some miracle had saved the carcass from carrion-eaters.
Starr carefully scraped away old snow, removing her gloves long enough to log information on a pad. She found no outward reason for the ram’s death. No broken bones, no sign of starvation and no bullet wounds or marks from carnivores. He carried no tag from the game department marking him a weak male. And this was not a time when males fought among themselves.
Starr pushed the hair from her eyes, feeling baffled. This animal had died in the prime of life for no apparent reason. After finishing her examination, she scrubbed her hands vigorously with scoops of fresh snow. Her fingers stung from the bite of the cold.
The next step was filling vials with blood samples. Judging by how long he’d been dead, she doubted that blood would reveal much. Once that was finished, she carefully re-covered the body with snow and stamped circles around it to ward off any scavengers. It was possible she’d need a second opinion later. Depressed at not finding an obvious cause of death, she stowed her gear.
She was so engrossed in the task she was surprised to see that the sun had slipped behind the mountains. She decided not to push on. The wind moaned hauntingly through the jagged rocks, and she shivered. The sound brought with it a longing for companionship. For no reason she remembered how warm she’d felt the other night—in Clay’s arms.
And where will those thoughts get you? she asked herself.
“Come on, Redwing, let’s call it a day.” She sighed. Why, at a time like this, would she want Clay McLeod? It would make more sense to want a fellow chemist to help find answers to this puzzle.
Fortunately a brisk wind stung her cheeks and gave her something else to think about. Behind the wind rolled a new bank of clouds. Storm clouds. By the time Starr reached the corral, the top of the mountain was obscured, and those same clouds had begun to spit snow.
She was grateful for the shelter of the barn and lost no time rubbing down the damp horse. Again she deliberately avoided the stall where she’d shared kisses with Clay. Once the horse was fed, she hurried outside.
A light, steady snow had begun to fall. Starr was thankful for whatever inner voice had prompted her to turn back. Head lowered against the wind, she nearly missed hearing SeLi call her from the open door of the ranch house.
Starr waved. She might as well go in to phone for a courier; she’d also leave a report for Harrison. He’d probably be as frustrated as she was.
Morgan appeared behind SeLi in the bright opening. As Starr stomped into the foyer, it took both giggling children to close the door against the strong wind.
Boots dripping, she hesitated in the red-tiled entryway, quietly surveying Clay’s home. This was her first glimpse. She hadn’t been prepared to find it so...so homey. “Get your coat,” she told SeLi abruptly. “I need to make a couple of phone calls, but it’ll only take me a minute.”
Her gaze lingered on a fire that crackled cheerfully in a massive beehive fireplace in one corner of a wood-paneled living room. Nearby the children had left a game spread out. Pieces lay haphazardly on a handwoven Indian rug that had obviously cost a small fortune.
Where did Clay McLeod get off giving her a hard time about her artwork?
The room beyond gleamed in the flickering firelight and the soft reflection of lights on the Christmas tree. Starr felt uneasy about the absence of adults. Where were Clay and Vanessa? In bed? No. Not according to Clay.
Morgan broke into Starr’s musing. “Uncle Clay was gonna come find you. He was ‘most ready to go when he got a phone call. He told SeLi and me he didn’t want you gettin’ lost.”
SeLi ran up and hugged her mother around the waist, bestowing a quick grin of relief. “Better let him know you got back, Mom. He’s in the den. Moe and me’ll finish our game.”
Feeling a stab of guilt for her thoughts about Clay and Vanessa, Starr headed in the direction of the Christmas tree. As she entered the room, all she could see were shelves filled with books. Finally, the edge of an oak desk.
A lump rose to clog her throat. She stepped to where she could see better and glimpsed Clay’s dark head bent over his desk. He didn’t notice her. Starr might have turned and made good her escape if he hadn’t glanced up just then.
For a moment he looked happy to see her. Then he frowned. She couldn’t hear his conversation over the children’s chatter. If his call was private, he needn’t think she’d come to pry. But because she was staring at him, she chanced to read his lips. Plain as day she saw, Thank you, Mrs. Manning, we’ll be in touch. She shook her head, denying what she thought she’d seen. Anyway, Wanda wasn’t the only Manning around. What possible reason would Clay have to speak with SeLi’s social worker? None. There had to be another explanation.
Releasing her breath slowly, Starr experienced a sense of dizziness. Her stomach seemed to drop. Honestly, talk about paranoid! Surely she’d only imagined that Clay smothered a guilty look as he put down the phone and came to meet her. But fingers of doubt had already crept up Starr’s spine and into her heart.
Dazed, her mind sorted out every conceivable combination of words he might have uttered. She kept returning to what she’d seen. Working in a busy, noisy lab, Starr—like everyone there—had become adept at reading lips. Yes, she was certain of the words. She just wanted some plausible reason for them that didn’t involve her or SeLi.
“Starr.” Clay clasped her cold hands in his warm ones. Feeling her stiffen, he let go. “Did the kids tell you I was ready to send out the dog with the brandy?” His twinkling gaze traveled to the pulse beating at the base of her throat, and his smile softened.
Starr could do little but nod and wonder why suddenly her limbs felt weightless.
“Are the kids finished with their game?” Clay asked. Damn, but I want to touch her, he thought. To hold her and drive that wary look from her eyes. When the weather socked in, he’d been worried sick. In fact, he was getting ready to go find her when that Manning woman called. She didn’t have any information. Clay suggested they forget it, but the fool woman wouldn’t take no for an answer. Truth was, he no longer knew what he wanted. All he knew was that what he felt for Starr Lederman made him want to believe she was not involved in anything unsavory.
“Did you have a productive trip?” He touched Starr’s cool cheek.
She jerked away. “No.” Why did she have the feeling that this sudden concern of his was really an elaborate smokescreen?
Clay frowned. He placed a hand at her waist and led her toward the fire.
She stretched out her hands, but they failed to get warm.
“I’m glad you showed sense enough to turn back before this storm broke. Don’t ever underestimate the danger.” He said this in the same tone with which he asked her to take a seat on the couch.
Before Starr had time to resent his little lecture, he withdrew and crossed to the bar, where he poured two drinks.
On returning, Clay pressed a glass into her hands. “I’m going to call Harrison. Whatever the reason for this project of yours, let them delay it until the weather turns. Or they can send someone else. I don’t want you taking chances on the mountain.”
The liquor burned a fiery trail down Starr’s throat, but it was really his high-handed manner that choked her.
Clay grabbed for her glass. “Take it easy. Breathe slowly. That’s hundred-proof cognac you’re downing like soda pop.”
At last the burning stopped and Starr found her voice. “I’m doing the job I was trained to do.”
“Not on my horses.”
“Fine. I’ll walk.”
He spread his palms, then clenched his hands and looked away.
“I found a dead bighorn.” Her voice quavered. “A beautiful ram, about as perfect as could be. No obvious reason for his death.” Her eyes filled. “If I don’t find out what’s killing them before spring, we might lose the whole herd.”
Moved by her emotion, Clay knelt and grasped her hands. “That’s a tragedy, and I can see you want to help. But when it snows, the mountain is treacherous. If Harrison really cared about you, I should think he’d insist on keeping you safe.”
Harrison again. Starr studied the amber liquid in her glass. What could she say to make him see that Harrison wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with? Unable to think clearly when Clay touched her, she pulled away and set her glass aside. “Would it be all right if I used your phone to call a courier?”
Clay swore mildly as he stood. “Call Harrison, you mean?” he said bitterly. “Courier—is that a code word?” He reached for the phone. “I’ll talk to my brother.”
Starr felt a little like a bird caught in a trap. The number she was to call with her report was a message machine, but it had been set up by Harrison’s secretary. Even if she gave Clay the number, he’d recognize the woman’s voice and assume the worst. Either way, Starr knew she was doomed—and there was nothing she could do about it. These blood samples had to be tested.
CHAPTER TEN
CLAY HAD BARELY punched out the sequence of numbers to his brother’s San Francisco home when a shuddering cry filled the room.
Starr was shocked to see Vanessa McLeod hovering in the archway. Her eyes were clouded and confused. Tears ran down her pale cheeks.
It had been more than a year since Starr had seen the senator’s wife. She sat in awe of the woman’s flawless beauty. Her light blond hair framed her heart-shaped face like a soft halo. She wore a simple silk dress with just enough frills to make her too-thin frame look feminine. The woman’s most alluring feature, however, were her pansy-soft violet eyes. Widely spaced above a perfect nose and cupid’s-bow mouth, those eyes held a haunting vulnerability. Starr sincerely doubted that there had ever been a more fatal combination of beauty and fragility wrapped in one package.
It was no longer a mystery why both brothers vied for Vanessa’s attention. Nor why this helpless-looking creature turned to her brother-in-law for strength and support. Clay was a very masculine man—if not a touch predatory. Definitely a man to take command.
For one fleeting moment, Starr wished she could be delicate and needy like Vanessa McLeod. Then, as quickly, her independent spirit asserted itself. Wasn’t the power imbalance what she’d disliked most about her parents’ marriage? Indeed, in the film industry in general, there’d been an overabundance of men who misused power to get what they wanted—and even more women who let them.
Clay covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “Vanessa, what do you need? Is your headache worse, hon? Is it time for more medicine?”
Starr couldn’t help noticing how his tone gentled compared to his brusque orders to her only moments ago.
Vanessa glared at Starr. “Why is she here?” she asked as she swayed against the wall.
Clay picked up the phone, stretching the cord, as he moved to reach his sister-in-law. Not only was the cord too short, but Harrison chose that moment to answer. Clay sent Starr a silent plea for help.
He needn’t have, she was already on her feet. She led the stricken woman to the leather couch by the fire and urged her to sit.
“Harrison, so you are home?” Clay barked. “No...no, nothing’s wrong here. Why would it be?”
Surprised by his obvious fib, Starr glanced at him curiously. This time the pause while he listened was longer. Then as he caught her watching him, a sardonic curl of his upper lip bared his teeth below his dark mustache.
“Yes, we’re having a storm of sorts. No, your precious Starr is right here in the room with me—safe and sound.” Sarcastically he added, “Vanessa’s here, too, Harrison. In fact, she’s not feeling well. Maybe you’d like a word with your soon-to-be ex-wife.”
“No...no, I can’t. Let her.” Vanessa pointed at Starr. “Or you talk to him, Clay. I...he...we...” She shook her head in unconcealed distress.
Well, Barclay McLeod, you’re a real bastard, Starr thought. It was evident that Vanessa suffered from the strain of being unfaithful, even if Clay was heartless enough to rub his brother’s nose in it.
Angered by his insensitivity, Starr marched over and jerked the phone from Clay’s hand. She turned away from him and Vanessa before speaking. “Harrison...Starr here. I need a courier ASAP. I took some blood samples today, but I don’t know how good they’ll be. The ram had been dead awhile.”
She felt Clay hovering. “Secrecy is pretty difficult,” she snapped at the man on the line when he asked what his brother knew. “I’m virtually living in their laps, Senator.” Glancing up and into a brass-framed mirror, Starr caught Clay’s scowl. She lowered her voice, murmuring, “Of course you don’t need to pop down here. No, I won’t take unnecessary risks.” Lord, she didn’t even want to imagine the family squabble if Harrison showed up.
The mirror showed Clay leading Vanessa from the room. He had one strong arm wrapped lovingly around the woman’s slender waist. When he bent to whisper something in her ear, a sharp ache shot through Starr’s chest. So intent was she on watching the couple she missed what Harrison had said.
“Starr, Starr, can you hear me?” The sharp note in his voice brought Starr crashing back to earth.
“Wh-what did you say?” Her fingers relaxed on the receiver the moment Clay and his partner moved out of sight.
“I said I should have listened to you, Starr. I’ve tried to tell Van that there’s nothing going on between you and me, but she refuses to believe me. Guess I blew it.”
Starr sighed. “A lot of that around here.”
“Clay, huh? Well, it doesn’t surprise me. He can’t accept what a person tells him. He keeps chipping away. It’s the main reason I didn’t want him to know about the sheep. Is he giving you a hard time?”
Inside she cried, You don’t know the half of it. You should see him fawning over your wife. Aloud she assured him, “He doesn’t know everything. Not about the test well. Although it might simplify things if he did.”
“No. Have you seen the paper? Two counties are on the verge of bankruptcy. A controversy right now would be ruinous. The ranchers could gum up the works.”
“That’s terrible!” Starr exclaimed. “I wish you were already governor.”
“With a divorce facing me, I may lose my backers,” he said gloomily.
“Don’t worry,” she said, feeling he needed a kind word. “The people of California are more liberal than most. I’m sure they won’t worry about your marital status when they go to the polls.”
She stopped, her eyes drawn by a shadow. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Flashes of heat skittered up her spine as she turned and read something akin to agony in Clay’s eyes.
“I’ll t-talk to you l-later, Senator,” she stammered, then dropped the phone into its cradle. But she was too far away, and it struck the desk with a clatter.
“What’s wrong, Clay?” Starr sucked in her bottom lip. “Is something wrong with Vanessa?” With fumbling fingers, she righted the phone.
“As if you’d give a damn, you conniving little witch.”
“Me?” Starr raised her chin. She was tired of taking the blame for Vanessa’s problems. “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t cast stones.”
“I could wring your pretty neck.”
“I’m not the one who called to rub Harrison’s nose in it. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve had a tiring day. All I want is food and a hot shower. You and your brother can fight over the same bone. Leave me out of it, please.”
Clay looked as though he was about to unleash another tirade when Starr beat him to the punch and asked the question that had been nagging at her.
“Who was the Mrs. Manning you were on the telephone with when I walked in?”
Her words flashed between them on electrically charged air.
Clay tensed. Damn. She’d caught him off guard. All he could do was avert his eyes and shrug.
An icy hand gripped Starr’s heart. “Wanda. It was Wanda Manning.” Her lungs screamed for air. “Why?” The single word whispered through lips gone numb with fear.
Turning away from her, Clay massaged the back of his neck. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“I’m not asking for myself.” She clutched his arm. “Tell me this isn’t about SeLi.”
She stood close enough for Clay to feel her breath on his cheek. And he could smell the faint scent of whatever perfume she’d put on this morning. Floral, he thought. His pulse tripped. He didn’t want to be having this discussion. He wanted to spirit her away and lose himself in her softness. Someplace they’d never be found.
Instead, he shut his eyes and held his breath to break the hold she had on his senses. In the next room were three living, breathing reasons he should run like hell. His brother’s wife, his son and maybe his illegitimate daughter. God, what a mess.
“I know Harrison set you up in that apartment,” he said grimly. “You could clear this up, Starr. Is my brother being blackmailed or simply hiding his love child?”
Icy shock waves started at Starr’s toes and worked their way up to her brain. All that registered was the part about Harrison setting her up in the apartment. Preposterous! Harrison hadn’t set her up anywhere. Reacting, not thinking, she grabbed the first solid object her hand came in contact with. It was a ceramic statue of a bucking horse, which sat on Clay’s desk.
Christmas Star (Contemporary, Romance) Page 15
