“What is it about you that keeps me so confused?” Noah asked Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue Copyright

“What is it about you that keeps me so confused?” Noah asked

Starr couldn’t be sure, but she suspected his confusion was caused by his intellect arguing with male instinct. On a purely rational level he obviously didn’t want to get involved with her. But on a physical level...maybe he wasn’t so sure. A small, embarrassed smile tugged at her lips—it was flattering, even though she didn’t want to get involved, either. But what was so wrong with her, anyway?

“For the record...” she said thoughtfully. “What do you dislike about me? I mean, aside from my impulsiveness?”

“You want some kind of list?” he asked, giving her a teasing grin.

“Just hit the high points,” she said with an overdose of sweetness.

“Er...I don’t dislike you. But we’ve got different priorities. I have Becky to think of....”

Starr blinked. She respected Noah’s protectiveness toward his niece. Yet she couldn’t help thinking he was looking for an excuse. Not so much to keep her out of his niece’s life, but out of his.

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Romance is celebrating the month of valentines with six very special love stories—and three brand-new miniseries you don’t want to miss. On Baby Patrol, our BUNDLE OF JOY selection, by bestselling author Sharon De Vita. is book one of her wonderful series, LULLABIES AND LOVE; about a legendary cradle that brings love to three brothers who are officers of the law.

In Granted: Big Sky Groom, Carol Grace begins her sparkling new series, BEST-KEPT WISHES, in which three high school friends’ prom-night wishes are finally about to be granted. Author Julianna Morris tells the delightful story of a handsome doctor whose life is turned topsy-turvy when he becomes the guardian of his orphaned niece in Dr. Dad. And in Cathleen Galitz’s spirited tale, 100% Pure Cowboy, a woman returns home from a mother-daughter bonding trip with the husband of her dreams.

Next is Corporate Groom, which starts Linda Varner’s terrific new miniseries, THREE WEDDINGS AND A FAMILY, about long-lost relatives who find a family. And finally, in With This Child..., Sally Carleen tells the compelling story of a woman whose baby was switched at birth—and the single father who will do anything to keep his child.

I hope you enjoy all six of Silhouette Romance’s love stories this month. And next month, in March, be sure to look for The Princess Bride by bestselling author Diana Palmer, which launches Silhouette Romance’s new monthly promotional miniseries, VIRGIN BRIDES.

Regards,

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Dr. Dad
Julianna Morris

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In memory of my grandfathers—

Virgil and Daniel—two remarkable men

who passed on a commitment to ideals,

strength of purpose and the joy of laughter.

JULIANNA MORRIS

has an offbeat sense of humor that frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everything—her interests ranging from oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction. Choosing a college major was extremely difficult, but after many changes she earned a bachelor’s degree in environmental science.

Julianna’s writing is supervised by a cat named Gandalf, who sits on the computer monitor and criticizes each keystroke. Ultimately she would like a home overlooking the ocean, where she can write to her heart’s content—and Gandalf’s malcontent. She’d like to share that home with her own romantic hero—someone with a warm, sexy smile, lots of patience and an offbeat sense of humor to match her own. Oh, yes...and he has to like cats.

Chapter One

The wail of fire engine sirens cut through the calm morning and Starr automatically pulled to one side of the road. Several trucks and police vehicles sped around her, headed for a rising plume of smoke on the hillside.

Alarmed, Starr followed the flashing lights and slammed to a stop outside the perimeter established by the emergency personnel. Heart sinking, she grabbed her notebook and confirmed the address; sure enough, this was the house belonging to her goddaughter’s baby-sitter.

“Blast,” she muttered, jumping out of the car.

“Sony, lady, you’ll have to stay back like everyone else,” said an officer controlling the onlooking crowd.

“But—”

“No special privileges.”

Special privileges?

It was then Starr realized she’d instinctively grabbed her camera, with her press credentials attached to the strap. “That’s not why I’m here. I just want to know if Rebecca Bradley is all right. I’m her godmother.”

The officer hesitated, then turned to one side and pointed. A child stood next to an ambulance, tears rolling down her cheeks. She seemed so little and vulnerable that pain twisted inside of Starr.

No.

Becky had already lost her parents. She’d been through enough. It wasn’t fair to have something else happen to her.

The policeman cleared his throat. “You can go over, but keep out of the way,” he warned.

Starr spared him a single glance before threading her way toward the child. Becky’s mother had been her best friend, though in the two years since Becky had been born, Starr had only seen her three times; her career as a photojournalist kept her out of the country for months on end. Horribly, she hadn’t even known Amelia and Sam were dead until well after the funeral. That had been six months ago and this was the first time she’d been able to get home.

“Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry,” begged the woman standing over Becky. “Don’t worry, it’s all right.”

All right? Starr’s honey brown eyebrows lifted. She walked to the ambulance and crouched till she was at the same height as the child. “Hey, kiddo,” she murmured.

“Dr. Bradley will be furious if you take any pictures,” the other woman insisted. “He doesn’t like reporters.”

Starr sighed and tucked her press badge into a pocket. Noah Bradley was Becky’s uncle and guardian. They’d had a couple of uncomfortable telephone conversations since she’d arrived home, but she’d never met him. “You’re Mrs. Dinsdale, aren’t you? I’m Becky’s godmother. We spoke this morning.”

“Oh...Miss Granger.” The woman’s lined face turned pink. “I’m sorry. It’s nice to meet you.”

Starr gave her a brief smile, then returned her attention to Becky. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

For a long moment the youngster gazed at her. “Kitty,” she said at length, pointing to the house. “Get Kitty.” Her voice held an endearing confidence that this newcomer would be able to solve the problem.

“Were you playing with Kitty?”

“They were in the playroom,” the elder woman interjected. She motioned toward a second-story window and Starr looked at it thoughtfully. The fire hadn’t reached that side of the building. In fact, it seemed virtually ignored by the firefighters.

“I—”

“Becky!” A moment later the child was swept into a man’s arms. Compared to his generous height, Becky looked like a dainty china doll.

Starr stood and watched them, a corner of her mind appreciating the stranger’s broad shoulders and clean male scent. He had Becky cuddled against his chest, and his hand stroked her gold hair with a reassuring motion.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Bradley, she isn’t hurt. The medics checked her over...she didn’t inhale any smoke,” the elder woman said quickly.

Starr’s eyes widened. This was Noah Bradley? He was very different than she’d envisioned him, a complete opposite to his easygoing brother. They didn’t even look alike. Sam had been blond and solid; Noah had dark brown hair and a tall, athletic body. He certainly didn’t look like the grumpy, bespectacled doctor she’d envisioned from their brief discussions on the phone.

“Let her speak for herself, Mrs. Dinsdale,” he said quietly. “Are you okay, Becky?”

To Starr’s surprise, Becky pointed at her. “Kitty,” she repeated.

Dr. Bradley gave Starr an assessing look. She couldn’t tell if his impression was good or bad, and it annoyed her to realize she cared. Her life-style and career didn’t lend itself to relationships...as her brief marriage had proven. Getting worked up about a man with warm, intelligent eyes wouldn’t change anything.

“What about a kitty?” he asked.

“I guess it’s in the house,” Starr murmured.

“He’s one of the neighborhood cats,” Mrs. Dinsdale explained. “Becky plays with him all the time. I planned to ask you if she could take it home.”

“Unca Noah, Kitty,” Becky said mournfully.

“Dr. Bradley, is this lady bothering you?” queried the policeman who had talked to her earlier. “She claimed to be your niece’s godmother.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. He should have recognized Starr immediately—she’d become almost as famous as her photographs. “It’s all right. We’re...getting acquainted.”

The officer nodded and faded away discretely.

“Unca Noah, Kitty!”

The emphatic tone of Becky’s voice demanded his attention, and he looked at her, surprised she would talk so much in front of someone she didn’t really know. Though...a lot of things about Becky surprised him. He’d quickly learned there was a huge difference between doctoring children and raising them. It was frustrating and scary...and wonderful. He’d never planned to have kids, yet Becky had crept into his aching heart. Sam was gone, but his smile and eyes were mirrored in the little girl he’d left behind.

“Let me take a look at you,” he murmured, setting her on the back step of the ambulance.

An exasperated, comically adult expression crossed Becky’s face. “I o’tay. Kitty.”

After a brief hesitation Starr stepped back and headed for the nearest fireman. While Dr. Bradley made sure Becky was really okay, she’d worry about Becky’s beloved kitty.

“Excuse me...?”

The official turned. “Stay back, ma’am.”

She scowled at the dreaded word ma‘am. Thirty-two wasn’t old enough to be called “ma’am.” “Uh...there still might be a cat in the house.”

“We’ve already searched the building.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. If we find the animal, we’ll bring it out.” He motioned her away with his arm.

Biting back a retort, Starr gazed intently at the house. A large, spreading tree grew next to the window that supposedly belonged to the playroom. The branches were old and gnarled, and dipped low on the street side.

A definite possibility.

Starr took a deep breath and slipped around the back of the ambulance. Getting into the tree was ridiculously easy—the firemen were focused on the west side of the house. They certainly didn’t have time to notice a woman climbing into the bed of an old pickup and then chinning herself onto a low limb.

It wasn’t until she was high in the air that Starr realized she still carried her favorite camera around her neck and shoulder. Not that it hindered her; she’d taken her cameras into every type of dangerous situation, until they almost seemed a part of her body. Climbing a tree was nothing compared to dodging bullets in war-torn countries.

Except... Starr grimaced at the lingering soreness in her shoulder. She hadn’t always managed to dodge the bullets. Her last assignment had resulted in a lengthy stay in the hospital.

Oh, well. Starr nudged open the window and peered inside—it looked safe and normal, so she swung feetfirst into the playroom.

“Kitty?” she called, pausing to listen for anything that might be an animal. Of course, she had no idea if the feline was still inside the building—which made her present actions rather foolishly quixotic.

“Kitty, Kitty...?” Starr plowed through a pile of cushions along the wall, calling, then waiting, then calling again. She checked the closet and caught a whiff of smoke drifting down from the attic access.

“Terrific,” she muttered.

Circling the room, she shifted scattered toys and furniture, finally hearing a faint hiss.

“Kitty?”

Dropping to her knees, Starr peered into the shadowed space between the wall and a giant stuffed teddy bear. A pair of amber eyes glimmered from the corner.

“Okay, come here,” she coaxed, reaching toward him.

The feline sent out a lightning set of claws and raked the back of her hand. The attack was accompanied by a low growl, similar to the sound of angry bees. She clenched her jaw and grabbed a second time. This time both hands were slashed, leaving beads of scarlet welling on her skin.

“Wretch,” Starr hissed back at the cat. “I’m leaving, and you’re leaving with me.”

With her third grab Starr grasped the back of “Kitty’s” neck and hauled him out, spitting and struggling.

“Stop that,” she ordered, giving the feline a small shake. She held it up and glared into its almond-shaped eyes. After a long second of primal communication, the animal went limp and she stuffed it inside her jacket. Kitty promptly dug his claws into her body for balance, but Starr was beyond caring.

There was a startled shout as she swung onto the tree branch, and from the corner of her eyes she saw Noah Bradley running across the yard. A faint smile curved her mouth. Dr. Bradley had “establishment” written all over him, but he still made her feel warm and shivery in the pit of her stomach. You could tolerate a lot from a man like that.

“Get the hell down here!”

Noah glared at the woman hanging upside down above him. If the fire and climb didn’t kill her, he’d probably wring her fool neck.

“Ouch,” she shrieked abruptly. “You ungrateful wretch,” she cursed.

Noah blinked. Odd. She didn’t seem to be talking to him, and she didn’t seem to be in immediate danger of falling. Quite the contrary—she inched along the branch with the confident ease of a gymnast, her long hair waving like a golden brown banner in the breeze.

“Damnation,” Walker O’Brien, the Astoria fire chief, growled at Noah’s elbow. “How’d she get up there?” He motioned to one of his men, who trotted toward one of the trucks. “Are you okay, lady? We’re getting a ladder.”

By now she’d reached the center of the tree and she parted a swathe of leaves to look at them. “Don’t bother. I can manage.”

Walker harrumphed. “I should lock you up.”

She leaned out farther and smiled at him winningly. “But you won’t, will you?”

To Noah’s disgust the fire chief chuckled and shook his head. “My God, Starr Granger. When did you get home?”

“A couple of days ago. I’m on vacation. You know, visiting my parents and stuff.”

“And you couldn’t stay out of trouble,” the chief said with a grin.

“That’s—” A muffled growl came from her midsection and she winced. “Ow. Maybe I’ll take that ladder after all. My passenger is using me as a pincushion.”

“Is that where the blood came from?” Walker asked.

Startled, Noah looked up. Sure enough, there were red streaks on Starr’s hands. The front of her jacket squirmed and a furry head poked out above the zipper, squalling in fury.

“I rescued Becky’s cat,” she explained. “But he didn’t appreciate the favor.”

Just then the ladder arrived and Noah grasped it firmly. “I’ll get her,” he said.

Walker grinned and stepped aside. “You’re the doctor.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Starr protested. “Just shove the ladder against the branch and I’ll manage fine.”

Noah climbed up anyway. “Going into that house was crazy,” he snarled.

“I’ve been accused of a lot of things. Crazy is mild compared to some of them.”

“I’ll just bet!”

“Besides, it wasn’t that dangerous,” she asserted. “The fire was clear on the other side of the house.”

At the moment Noah didn’t care if the fire was on the moon. Obviously Starr Granger was a daredevil risk taker. A rebel to common sense. Her vocabulary probably didn’t even include words like caution and yield. “This is an old house,” he said grimly. “It could have gone up like a tinderbox and you’d have been trapped.”

“I took a calculated risk.”

“Noah is right,” Walker O’Brien said from below. “Fires in these old places are unpredictable.”

Starr frowned. “Stay out of this, Walker.”

He shrugged. “Hey, I fight fires. I’d just like to get back to fighting this one...if you don’t mind.”

“Coming, Miss Granger?” Noah held out his hand, trying to control a smug smile.

“I told you, I don’t need any help. Why are you still here, anyway? You should have taken Becky home.”

Noah’s free hand clenched around the ladder. How dare she criticize the way he took care of Becky? A woman who couldn’t even attend her best friend’s wedding or goddaughter’s christening. “One of the firemen fell. I was treating him. Any objections?”

A curious flicker of emotion flashed across her face. “I’m sorry. Is he badly injured?”

“Why do you care? Are you planning to write a story about it, or just take a couple of gory pictures?”

The blue-green of her eyes deepened with indignation. “That isn’t fair. I’m a photojournalist, and a damned good one. I don’t get my kicks out of seeing people hurt.”

The cat hissed at that moment, as though mirroring the fury of the woman who had rescued him.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I didn’t want a story. I just wanted to get Becky’s kitty for her.”

Noah sighed, knowing he’d unconsciously taken his distrust of the news media out on Starr, probably because it was so easy to be angry with her. But that didn’t change the fact she’d risked her life for a cat. A cat! He looked her squarely in the eye. “That animal could have taken care of itself.”

“You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first.”

He glared.

“Besides,” Starr continued, “the door was closed and the window was shut.... The poor thing was helpless.”

“Helpless?”

Noah grunted. As far as he could tell from her scratches, that poor thing had five effective weapons on each of its paws. Even worse, he suspected the helpless little wretch was about to take up permanent residence in his house; those claws were going to do some serious damage to his leather upholstery. Of course, Becky’s grape juice and peanut butter had already done a job on the furniture...and on everything else.

“Please don’t dawdle,” Walker advised from his position on the ground. “I still have work to do.”

“Coming,” Noah said tersely. He ought to have his head examined for talking to the woman in the first place, much less having a conversation with her on a ladder!

He grasped Starr’s waist as she swung from the tree. Doing so was a mistake. She wiggled indignantly, but the movement only reminded him that she was a woman—soft and nicely rounded in all the right places. Her tight, jeans-clad bottom was intimately aligned with his chest and her hair flew like fragrant silk around his face. He drew a deep breath and caught the scent of honeysuckle on a warm afternoon—except honeysuckle had never smelled that good on a bush.

Stop. Noah groaned. He’d always heard that anger could be stimulating under the right circumstances. Yet he’d never quite believed it until now.

“I’m ready to climb down. You’re in my way,” she said in a muffled voice...squirming to make her point.

Noah gritted his teeth and tried to focus on anything but the sexy slide of her hips against his body. He only partially succeeded. So he thought about the scratches on her hands. They would have to be cleansed and disinfected, then bandaged.

Good, think like a doctor.

But his thoughts were entirely male as he descended with her...one slow rung at a time. Starr kept leaning away from the ladder, trying to protect the cat still snarling loud complaints from her jacket, which meant she came into closer contact with him. When they finally reached the ground, Noah’s jaw ached from being clenched, and the rest of him didn’t feel so great, either.

As they walked toward the ambulance she unbuttoned her jacket and unhooked the angry feline from her shirt. Becky caught sight of the animal and lunged forward.

“Mine.” She held out her arms, and Noah knew his leather furniture was doomed. Kitty had just found a new home.

“Wait a second, kiddo.” Starr knelt beside the child, holding the feline’s paws firmly in her hands.

“Careful, Becky,” Noah warned. “He’s a little upset right now, so be gentle.”

Becky leaned forward and gave Kitty a series of solid pats on his head. “O’tay,” she said. A loud purr rose from the cat and his eyes closed ecstatically.

“Now he purrs?” Starr muttered. “Swell. Why couldn’t he have done that while I was saving his life?”

“Take care of Becky for a moment,” Noah said to Mrs. Dinsdale. “I need to treat Mrs. Granger’s wounds.”

Starr handed the cat to the baby-sitter and followed him to the rear of the ambulance, an enigmatic smile on her generous mouth.

“Let’s take a look,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Uh-uh. I want him to do it.” Starr pointed to the emergency medical technician.

An exasperated sigh rose from Noah’s chest. “I’m a very good doctor.”

“I’m sure you are. But I still want him.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!”

Noah stepped back and let the EMT take over. The man efficiently dealt with the scratches, then pointed to the red stains on her shirt, visible beneath the jacket. “Is that blood from your hands?”

For the first time Starr seemed uncomfortable. “Er...no. Kitty got a little wild when I climbed out of the window. But it’s okay, I’ll take care of it myself.” She zipped the jacket to her throat as her gaze darted sideways, colliding with Noah’s. He instantly remembered the intimate contact between their bodies as they’d climbed down the ladder.

“We can step into the ambulance if you’d like,” the technician suggested.

“No, I’ll take care of it later.”

“Cat scratches get infected easily. Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable if Dr. Bradley examined you,” the EMT said smoothly.

“Uh...I don’t think so,” Starr murmured.

Noah lifted his hand in exasperation. Was she holding a grudge? Admittedly, he hadn’t been very accommodating when she’d called, asking to take Becky for a weekend. His niece was still adjusting to her parents’ deaths, and he didn’t want her daily routine upset for an absentee godmother, visiting on a whim. Maybe that explained Starr’s reluctance to accept his help.

“We need to talk. Sit down,” he growled, pointing to the convenient step on the vehicle.

The EMT grinned and said he’d check in with the fire chief. Neither of them watched as he slipped away.

“I’m not—”

“Down!” Noah put his hands on Starr’s shoulders and pushed. She winced at the pressure, drawing the left side of her body away from him. A worried frown creased his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me another whopper, okay? One I might actually believe.”

Starr sighed. “It’s an old injury, and none of your business. Besides, I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor for a couple of scratches. It’s silly.”

“I don’t understand,” Noah said, attempting to sound reasonable. It was quite a struggle, because he felt anything but reasonable. “Think of me as a physician, not a man.”

Her enigmatic smile returned. “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear between us—I’m not your patient, and you’re not my doctor.”

“Do you have something against doctors?”

“Not particularly.”

Noah rubbed his forehead. Starr Granger was having an unfortunate effect on him—she made him insane. “Then what’s wrong, Miss...er...Ms. Granger?” he asked carefully.

She leaned toward him. “Make it easy. Call me Starr.” A complex mixture of emotion glimmered in her blue.-green eyes. “There’s a perfectly good reason I don’t want you to be my doctor.”

“Oh? What is it?”

The cool, unbandaged tips of her fingers stroked his jaw. “They say actions speak louder than words, so I’ll just have to show you.” Her lips brushed his mouth and the heat went clear to his toes.

“What was that supposed to prove?” he asked, his voice gritty with restraint. The last thing he’d expected from the rebellious Starr was a kiss.

“I thought it was obvious. I guess I’ll have to try one more time.” An instant later she flowed against him, filling his senses with warmth and the scent of honeysuckle.

Unable to resist, Noah slid his fingers into the soft silk of her hair and pulled her closer. She tasted like an exotic fruit, provocative and mysterious, with infinite layers of texture and passion.

He knew exactly what she was telling him. The American Medical Association disapproved of kisses between doctors and patients, but Starr hadn’t let him become her doctor. They were just a man and woman, kissing in front of half the Astoria fire department. Somehow that didn’t seem to matter.

After an endless moment she pulled away.

“See you later, Dr. Bradley,” she said, spinning on her heel and walking away.

Noah’s mouth dropped open as she disappeared. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

He shook his head, trying to clear her tantalizing fragrance from his senses. Starr Granger had all the physical equipment to make a man feel...restless. But he didn’t want to get involved with anyone, much less a globe-trotting journalist who took incredible chances to get her photographs.

Not that it mattered. Starr had probably just kissed him because of excess adrenaline. He didn’t consider himself boring, but he was hardly the type of man to attract a woman with her explosive life-style.

A reluctant smile curved Noah’s mouth when he realized he was just making excuses. His common sense told him to forget the sensual fire in Starr’s restless eyes and supple body—he just didn’t want to.

Chapter Two

Noah groaned as he stared at the newspaper from the previous day. Thoroughly annoyed, he slapped his cup down on the breakfast table.

On the front page was a picture of Mrs. Dinsdale’s old house, surrounded by firefighters. That wasn’t the bad news. The bad news was the back page, where the story continued. A second article augmented the sketchy information—all about one of Astoria’s more famous citizens, Starr Granger.

“Damned reporters,” he muttered, the paper crumpling between his fingers.

Next to a smiling publicity shot of Starr, was a picture of both Starr and Noah in front of the ambulance...kissing. The caption beneath read “Local doctor lures prize winning photographer back home.” He had his arm around Starr’s waist and she was arched against him.

Great, just great. That’s all he needed.

He didn’t remember putting his arms around Starr. But he remembered the softness of feminine curves pressed against him, the scent of honeysuckle...the provocative flavor of her mouth. He remembered the shifting shades of blue and green in her eyes, and the affectionate way she’d looked at Becky. Those memories had kept him awake the night before, aching with hunger.

Starr had a terrible effect on a man. No matter how many times he resolved to stop thinking about her, she crept into his mind anyway. It wasn’t so much that she was attractive; he’d known a lot of women more beautiful than Starr. But none of them had shimmered with such energy.

Leaning back in his chair, Noah rubbed his throbbing forehead, grateful it was Saturday so he didn’t have to go into the office.

A year ago it wouldn’t have bothered him to be caught kissing an attractive woman, but a year ago he hadn’t been worried about keeping custody of his niece. Now, the last thing he needed was even the appearance of impropriety—Becky’s maternal grandparents were the most uptight, conservative people he’d ever met. Fortunately Sam and Amelia’s will had been very specific—they’d wanted Noah to raise their daughter if anything happened to them.

“You need a better security system,” a voice said from behind him. “Almost anyone could break in.”

“Damnation!” Noah leapt to his feet and spun around. He glared at his intruder. It was Rafe McKittrick, Becky’s uncle on her mother’s side of the family. “You installed the lousy system. It figures you could break in. Why the hell are you here?”

“I’ m not staying. I have business down the coast.”

“That’s a relief.”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth lifted slightly under his mustache, which was the closest Noah had ever come to seeing him smile. “Is Becky awake?”

“No.” Noah felt a faint niggle of guilt about being so curt, but he didn’t like any of the McKittricks, including Rafe.

The other man just nodded and tossed him the newspaper he was carrying, folded around the infamous picture. “My parents are a little upset about this, I thought you should know.”

Noah made an impatient gesture. “It’s not like we were sneaking out of some seedy motel. Besides, Starr is a Pulitzer Prize winner. They should love her for that, if nothing else.”

Rafe shrugged noncommittally. “About Becky... Have you considered getting married so she’d have a mother?”

“What?”

“You know, married. The ‘I do’ routine with gold rings. I don’t hold by it personally, but it would go a long way toward smoothing things with the folks. One of their biggest gripes is because you’re a bachelor.”

“Wrong,” Noah retorted. “One of their biggest gripes is that Sam and I were raised by a single father who drank himself into an early grave. We never had the right highbrow background to suit them. As for me being a bachelor... I’ll get married to please myself, and no one else.”

“Suit yourself.”

For a long while after Rafe left, Noah stared into space, his coffee growing cold. He didn’t think the McKittricks could take Becky away from him—they’d have to prove he was unfit. Yet he couldn’t help worrying. They were powerful people, with powerful friends. And they used the newspapers they owned to pillory anyone they didn’t like.

That isn’t fair.

Noah shifted, almost believing he could hear Starr Granger’s voice echoing in his mind. Intellectually, he knew she was different than the nosy, truth-twisting reporters he’d dealt with since Sam’s death—the reporters who had suggested Sam was responsible for the fatal crash of the twin engine Cessna, either by pilot incompetence or impaired judgment. Yet it was hard to separate her from the McKittricks.

With bleak eyes, Noah gazed out at the view. The back of the house overlooked the turbulent beauty of the Pacific Ocean, and visible to the far right was the broad opening of the Columbia River. A nice view for a nice house; a fine, healthy home for a child. Except “nice” and “healthy” weren’t enough to satisfy the McKittricks. They didn’t like anyone who didn’t fit their mold of acceptance.

A small weight, imbued with warmth, leaned against his leg. Becky—tousle-haired and yawning—in her sleepers. Without a word she crawled into his lap and settled against his chest.

Noah’s heart flip-flopped.

He smoothed damp tendrils of hair away from her face. Playing the indulgent uncle had been easy—learning to be a father was far more difficult. Truthfully, sometimes it was easier when Becky was asleep. Wide-awake, she was a complete mystery to him. She smeared bananas on his suits and fed oatmeal to the compact disc player. She didn’t talk very much so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She said “no” with alarming regularity.

But it would kill him to lose her.

The thought stayed with Noah as he dressed Becky for the day. He was still awkward with the morning routine of caring for a child, and her bedroom usually resembled a disaster area by the time they were finished. He hadn’t expected a daily fashion dilemma with a two-year-old, but Becky was fussier than any New York model.

Today was no exception.

She didn’t want to wear the Cinderella outfit; she wanted the one with kitty cats. Only, when he found the kitty-cat sweater, she’d changed her mind and wanted something else. Since she didn’t communicate well, he ended up holding garments up one by one, trying to figure out which one she really wanted. Of course, she ended up deciding to wear the Cinderella dress after most of the closet and her dresser drawers were empty.

As they headed back to the kitchen—finally dressed—Noah sighed. When it came to Becky, his extensive medical education flew out the window. All the child-rearing theories in the world didn’t amount to a hill of beans when confronted by an obstinate two-year-old.

Patience. He just needed patience.

Becky’s tantrums were probably caused by the upheaval in her life. And no wonder. Losing Sam and Amelia had been hard for both of them.

Noah was contemplating the next battle, what to fix for breakfast, when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“You sound breathless.” Starr’s melodic voice sent an unusual reaction through Noah’s gut. “How is Becky doing? Any problems because of the excitement?”

“Er...Ms. Granger. No, she’s fine.”

“I thought you were going to call me Starr.”

“I wasn’t going to call you at all,” he said bluntly. No matter how attractive, he didn’t plan on spending time with Starr Granger. She was too...volatile. Too unpredictable. Too everything.

She laughed, seeming unperturbed by his rudeness. “I’d like to see Becky. We didn’t have much chance for a visit with everything that happened.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured.

“How about this afternoon?”

Noah shifted uncomfortably. “I think next week would be better.”

There was a long pause. “I won’t be in town for very long. I’m on vacation, but I have to go back to work eventually.”

“I didn’t realize you took vacations.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Starr asked, a faintly indignant huff in her voice.

“Nothing. Except...well...why the sudden interest in Becky? Hell, you didn’t even show up at her baptism—they had to get someone to stand in for you.”

Starr sighed. “We discussed this when I called the first time. I was on assignment. I explained to Amelia and Sam—they understood.”

Noah gritted his teeth. Fine. Maybe Amelia and Sam had understood, but he didn’t. “This is just one of your impulsive whims,” he growled. “Like kissing me in front of everyone. Have you seen yesterday’s paper?”

Starr laughed. “I thought you’d be unhappy about that.”

“Unhappy?” he said loudly. “The McKittricks live only a hundred miles away and they watch everything I do. Hell—they’re probably filing for custody right now.”

“You’re just overreacting. They aren’t that bad, you know.”

“Oh, sure!”

“Unca Noah?” A hand tugged on his trousers. Distracted, he looked down at Becky’s worried face.

“It’s all right, baby,” he reassured. “Go play with your toys...or with Kitty.”

“Not baby,” she informed him. Her bottom lip pouted out and he winced. When she had a tantrum she realty had a tantrum. For all her sweetness, his niece was as stubborn as a mule.

“Noah...Dr. Bradley, are you there?”

“Just a minute, Ms. Granger.” He leaned down to Becky and tweaked one of her braids. It wasn’t a very good braid, but the best he’d been able to manage with her silky fine hair. “That’s right, you’re not a baby,” he agreed. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Can you wait a while?”

After a long pause she nodded and trotted to the corner, where Kitty was flicking his tail and observing his food bowl. Becky thumped his back and he turned and rubbed himself against her so hard, she toppled onto her bottom with a giggle.

Noah shook his head. Kitty was unaccountably gentle with Becky. He straightened and tucked the receiver under his chin. “Starr?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to talk about what’s best for Becky. When may I see you?”

“Anytime, I guess. I’ll be here the rest of the day. I’m staying with my mother and father. They have a store called From Earth and Sky—they live in the back.”

“Good. Becky is supposed to spend the morning with some friends, so I’ll get her settled before coming over.” Noah scribbled the directions and hung up with a terse goodbye.

Maybe, just maybe, under different circumstances he’d enjoy knowing Starr Granger. But maybe not. Sam’s death had reminded him how fragile life could be. He didn’t want to care about someone who treated it so casually.

Even a woman as intriguing as Starr.

Two hours later Noah parked his car and stared at the directions Starr had given him, then back at the house. A health food store? Starr’s parents owned a health food store.

He’d expected something entirely different. An art gallery perhaps. A snobbish, upscale gallery. The kind of straitlaced, conservative place the McKittricks would patronize. But it wasn’t, so how had Starr Granger and Amelia McKittrick ever become friends?

A sensation of unreality crept over him as he stepped through the gate and watched a pair of brown rabbits hop away, disappearing into the lush wilderness of the garden. It was like something from one of Becky’s storybooks—a combination of Peter Cottontail and Alice in Wonderland. Baskets of flowers and herbs hung from the overhanging eaves. Moss grew in velvet swathes between flagstones on the path and at the foundation of the house. And on the porch a mama cat lounged in the sun, three kittens busily nursing.

Warily he opened the front door and saw a plant-filled interior. Light cascaded through a myriad of crystals, sending fractured rainbows dancing through the air and across various wares in jars and bins. A woman sat at a loom under the far window, examining the pattern she was weaving. After a moment she looked up and smiled.

“Welcome,” she said softly.

“Uh...er...thanks,” Noah stuttered. Plainly this was Starr’s mother. They had the same stunning cheekbones, the same clear blue-green eyes, the same rich, golden brown hair. But where Starr radiated saucy self-reliance, her mother had the sweet, untroubled innocence of a child.

She rose to her feet, looking oddly sophisticated in a natural-weave skirt and sweater. “Would you like some tea? I have some wonderful chamomile I grew myself.” She paused and studied him for a moment. “Or would you prefer peppermint and honey?”

“Er...no...nothing, thanks,” Noah said quickly, unable to repress a small shudder.

“I understand. You’re a friend of my daughter’s.”

He blinked. Psychic? “Well...sort of.”

Just then a man strolled through a door in the rear. “Have you seen the radish seeds, Moon Bright? I want to start some sprouts for salad.”

“Blue,” she admonished gently. “You know Morning Star doesn’t like sprouts.”

“But these are different.” Blue looked at Noah, whose jaw had dropped at the vivid collection of names. “You must be here to see Morning Star.”

“Morning Star?” he repeated.

“She prefers to be called Starr,” Moon Bright explained.

Noah rubbed his temple. What...did he have a tattoo on his forehead? A warning sign? Danger. This Man Has Encountered Starr Granger. His Life Will Never Be The Same.

“Er...how did you know?”

“The suit,” Blue said.

“No herbal tea,” Moon Bright added. She sighed.

“None of her friends like herbal tea. Oh, dear, you’re not that man she married, are you?”

Married? Noah’s eyes narrowed as he realized how little he knew about Starr. And the worse part was learning she’d given him insomnia when she was definitely unavailable. He didn’t agree with “open” marriages.

“No,” he said shortly. “I’m not the one she married.”

Moon Bright appeared relieved. “I’m so glad.”

Noah couldn’t decide if he himself was insulted, or relieved. Marriage to Starr Granger would surely lead a man to stark raving insanity.

“Dad, where are your sales receipts for the past quarter?” exclaimed the “wife” in question as she swept into the room. In contrast to the artless tranquillity of her parents, she was a whirlwind of energy. “I can’t do an income projection without them.”

“You have company, dear.”

When Starr recognized Noah, her eyes widened. “Oh...Dr. Bradley. You’re earlier than I expected.”

“A doctor?” Moon Bright shook her head sadly. “Darling, I think we should talk.”

“Not now, mother.” Distracted, she looked at her father as he lifted various containers from the shelves and inspected the contents. “Dad, what are you looking for?”

“Radish seeds, dear. They make a very tangy sprout. I’m sure you’ll like them.”

Starr rubbed the back of her neck as though in sudden, acute pain.

“I’m glad he’s not the one you married,” Moon Bright murmured. “At least he said he wasn’t.”

“Uh...” Starr glanced briefly in Noah’s direction.

He glared, deciding he was both relieved and insulted. “Please, tell us about the man you did marry, since I’m not the ‘one.’”

“There’s not much to tell. I’m divorced.”

“You and Chase would still be together if you hadn’t stifled yourselves with legal boundaries. It’s so unnatural. Remember that next time, dear,” her mother advised. She looked at Noah and shook her head again, clearly alarmed he might be “the next time.”

“Thanks, Mom. I think I’ll go for a walk. I need some air. Try to find those sales receipts while I’m gone, okay, Dad?” She grabbed Noah’s arm and propelled him through the door. He endured the fast-paced march for two full blocks down the hillside before slowing her into a more normal pace.

Normal? Hell, he doubted anything was normal around Starr. Noah whistled beneath his breath. “Morning Star” hadn’t rebelled from a straitlaced home, she’d escaped herbal tea and radish sprout salads. Compared to her parents, she was a conservative rule follower, a staid pillar of the community. The difference was phenomenal.

“Let’s clarify something,” he said speculatively. “Your real name is Morning Star?”

“My passport says Starr Granger.”

“What does your birth certificate say?”

Starr grimaced in resignation. “Go ahead and laugh, get it out of your system. My mother is Moon Bright, and my father is Blue River. Of course, those aren’t their original names, just the ones they picked in their search for self-expression.”

“Moon Bright and Blue River are self-expressive?” he asked, incredulous.

She shrugged. “Don’t knock it. My mother originally wanted to be called Aurora Borealis.”

“L..uh...can see that would be awkward.”

“It was too much of a mouthful, even for my father,” Starr agreed. “They kind of evolved into relaxed ‘New Agers.’ You know, crystals and nonconventional spiritualism... that kind of thing. They were disappointed when I preferred a different life-style.”

“You can say that again. Jeez, you even got married. What a terrible blow that must have been. Don’t you know that marriage is the primary cause of divorce?”

She gave him a dirty look, equaling the one he’d given her not long before. “What do you want, Dr. Bradley?”

He clucked at her. “I’m not your doctor. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

Starr was beginning to regret ever setting eyes on Noah Bradley. But she couldn’t regret kissing him, not completely. If she’d felt a tenth of the sizzle kissing her ex-husband as she’d felt kissing Noah, her marriage would have lasted a lot longer. Of course, she and Chase had never been together long enough in the same place to make anything last...including sizzle.

“I’m impulsive. You said so yourself,” Starr felt obliged to point out, though she didn’t expect Dr. Bradley to understand. She did plenty of rash things she later regretted. On the other hand, she’d bet Noah always had good, solid reasons for his actions. He was that kind of man.

“I think calling you impulsive is too mild,” Noah drawled. “Running into a burning house goes way beyond impulsive.”

“I didn’t run, I climbed. And it was perfectly safe. By the way, how is Kitty?”

“Kitty didn’t actually belong to us, but he’s been adopted. In less than twenty-four hours he’s ruined a silk tie, eaten a salmon fillet without permission and climbed the living room drapes.” Noah looked heavenward as though asking for divine intervention. “When I tried to get him down he catapulted off my shoulder and landed in the aquarium. Unfortunately, the top was off.”

A choking sound escaped from Starr’s throat.

He frowned. “It isn’t funny. I nearly lost my ear in the process.”

“I’ll bet the fish didn’t like it, either.” Starr laughed as she envisioned Noah Bradley in a battle of wills with “Kitty.” Boy, she wished she’d been there. It would have been priceless.

“Now that Kitty is fully aware of the aquarium, he’s spent hours in front of it, batting at the fish,” Noah concluded gloomily. “That animal splashed water and fish for ten feet, then made mincemeat out of me when I tried to rescue him.”

“I know,” Starr said, with somewhat less humor than before. She flexed her hands, which still bore the marks of Kitty’s first “rescue.” His nine lives were being rapidly depleted.

“Let me see how you’re healing,” Noah offered.

“Uh...I...” She stuttered to a halt. Her feelings toward Dr. Bradley were a peculiar mixture of curiosity and screeching alarm. “I thought you were angry at me,” she said quickly. “Because of the picture...and everything.”

“I am.” For an instant his expression turned somber. “But I’d hate for you to get an infection.”

Starr swallowed, contemplating the dangers of getting close to Noah Bradley. He was obviously an upstanding member of the establishment, yet the dark heat in his eyes tugged at her, coaxing an elemental response. No man—including her ex-husband—had ever made her feel that way.

Until now.

And that made him dangerous. How dangerous Starr didn’t want to find out. She’d learned the hard way that attraction didn’t last, and that ten seconds of fleeting pleasure wasn’t worth messing up the bed.

“Starr?”

“Okay, but you’re still not my doctor,” she said hastily. Foolishly. Becoming his patient would have been an easy way to protect herself from...him. “We’re just comparing battle scars, understand?”

His slow, reluctant smile spoke volumes, including a reminder of the kiss they’d shared. Well, hell. Even though nothing would come of it, how could he say being impulsive was so bad?

“If this is ‘show and tell,’ there are a few other places I wouldn’t mind seeing,” he suggested.

To Starr’s astonishment, she had to struggle to keep from turning red. Lord, she hadn’t blushed since she was a teenager, and never to such an obvious gambit. But then, Noah Bradley was no teenager, and a far cry from the tough newsmen she usually encountered.

“Here,” she said, holding her hands out in front of her.

Noah took them and examined the healing wounds. His fingers were strong and hard, yet sensitive enough to catch the quickening rush of her pulse. “Pretty good,” he murmured. “No signs of infection. What about the scratches on your shoulder?”

“I’m hardly going to show you them, am I?” Starr asked, trying to free her hands.

Crisp, salt-laden air blew inward from the ocean, unaffected by the sunshine. Even so, Starr could feel the warmth from Noah’s body. He’d be pleasant to snuggle up with on a cold night—much better than an electric blanket.

Jeez Get a grip.

Her nose wrinkled as she scolded herself. It had to be the inactivity. She was always busy, always moving. She might work in the wilds of Africa for months at a time, then spend the next fourteen weeks rushing from airplane to airplane. Whenever her frantic life-style got stale, she came home to Astoria; a few days with her parents were guaranteed to give her wanderlust again.

But was that what she really wanted? To keep racing around the world, without belonging anywhere? Lately she’d been feeling a growing restlessness, though she didn’t quite understand why.

Starr shivered, but more from uncertainty than from cold. A moment later Noah shrugged his coat off and dropped it around her shoulders. It was a chivalrous thing to do, the kind of act he probably did without thinking.

Where did men like that come from? Or, she decided, where had men like that gone to? He certainly wasn’t like any of the hard-nosed professionals she’d encountered in her travels. She’d dealt with them all—environmentalists, poachers, State Department officials, even a tough old naturalist who hadn’t wanted to share his lions with her until he’d discovered her affinity with felines.

Noah was different. Chivalrous and old-fashioned. Though...the sensual way he watched her was anything but old-fashioned.

“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “Nothing. That is...I’ve been wondering. That kitchen fire in Mrs. Dinsdale’s house put her out of commission for a while—I understand she’s gone to visit her sister during the cleanup. Maybe you’d consider letting me take Becky for a weekend, or maybe even a week or two. My parents have lots of room and they love children.”

Abruptly Noah stepped back, a remote expression on his face. “That’s nice of you, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Becky needs routine and stability.”

Starr curled her fingers in loose fists. She knew it was important for a child to have routine. Hadn’t she always wished for normal parents herself? Yet she didn’t think Noah’s motives were entirely innocent.

“Anyway,” he said, “you’re out of the country a lot. It might not be good for Becky to get too attached to you. I think it. would be best for everyone if you limited your visits to casual contact.”

“Casual?” Starr narrowed her eyes. “Amelia was my best friend. She wanted me to be her daughter’s godmother. I don’t think ‘casual’ is what she had in mind.”

“If you cared about Amelia, you would have come home more often,” Noah muttered.

“I did care. Amelia was like a sister to me.”

“Really?” Bitterness edged his voice.

Starr could almost hear the “but” hanging in the air. But..:if she’d cared so much, she would have at least attended her best friend’s funeral. She smiled tightly. “You know, it’s a shame we didn’t meet a long time ago. We could have gotten a head start on hating each other.”

For an astonished moment Noah stared at her, then he laughed. “You’re something else. I’ll bet your mouth got you into plenty of trouble when you were a kid.”

“Constantly. But never at home—Mom and Dad just considered it a form of self-expression. They’re big on self-expression.”

“Having met your parents, I can believe it. How did you ever get to know the McKittricks? I doubt they’re health food fanatics.”

She shrugged. “It’s a long story, but they became friends in college. Look, I may not be ideal mother material, but I want to have a part in Becky’s life.”

As soon as the words left Starr’s mouth, the stubbornly feminine part of her cringed...the part that wanted Noah Bradley to see her as a woman. On the other hand, she was being honest. Children had never figured into her plans for the future. She was taking an interest in Becky because she’d made a promise to Amelia.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Great. You ignored my niece for over two years, now you want to see her. After a while you’ll lose interest and go back to your life.”

For a long minute she was speechless. “I didn’t ignore her. I sent gifts and visited whenever I came home.”

“Which was practically never.”

“I have a job to do.”

“I know. And isn’t it great—they’ll never run out of wars and disasters for you to photograph!”

“You...you...” For a moment Starr’s smart mouth failed her. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to smack that scornful expression right off his handsome face.

But since violence was out, she said a Kurdish swearword she’d learned in her travels, wiggled from the confining folds of his jacket and threw it over a convenient rosebush.

“Go to hell,” she snapped and stormed away.

Chapter Three

“Wait a minute!” A stunned Noah yanked his jacket from the rosebush and heard the fabric rip.

Terrific.

He had all the tact of a rhinoceros. What else could he do to screw things up?

“Starr, please wait.” He caught up in front of her parents’ health food store and grabbed her arm. She spun around in time for him to see pain temporarily replace the anger in her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” Nevertheless, she put her hand on her left shoulder and rubbed. “It’s just the scratches.”

Noah sighed. He didn’t believe her, yet he couldn’t force her to explain. “Look, I’m sorry I got carried away...I don’t like reporters.”

“Gee, that’s a surprise. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He sighed. Ever since Sam had died, he’d been fighting with the McKittricks. Unfortunately, since Starr was both a friend of the McKittricks and Becky’s godmother, that put her directly in the middle of the battle. “You weren’t in the country when Sam and Amelia were killed, so you don’t know what it was like.”

She nodded warily. “I was out of touch. I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Rafe. He called this morning, but I was taking a walk.”

“Well...there was a lot of publicity after the accident. The McKittricks are influential because of that chain of newspapers they own—not to mention being friends with everyone who is anyone in Oregon, including the present governor.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Everything.” Noah massaged the back of his neck. “They never liked Sam. They thought he was presumptuous to marry their daughter. Amelia must have told you how much they disliked him.”

“They didn’t dislike him,” she murmured. “Not exactly.”

“Really?”

“Okay, I guess they would have preferred her marrying someone else,” Starr admitted, wrinkling her nose. “Deep down they’re nice people.”

Noah decided the “deep down” part must be way deep down—like in the Marianas Trench. He took a breath, knowing it might be foolish to confide in Starr, yet also knowing his sister-in-law and brother had trusted her. “The McKittricks blame Sam for the accident. The way they see things, if he hadn’t married their daughter, she wouldn’t have been in that plane with him,” he said, bitterness tinging his voice.

Starr’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. That isn’t fair,” she whispered.

Turning, Noah stared down at the town. Below them the Columbia River flowed to meet the ocean, a glistening silver ribbon across the western horizon. The ocean was constant, unchanging. He needed something that couldn’t change, something that couldn’t be ripped away with a single phone call. Like Sam.

He sensed compassion in Starr’s gaze, yet he couldn’t handle any more sympathy. Everybody was sorry about his brother. His friends, his co-workers, even the checker at the supermarket. Everybody “understood.” How could they understand? He’d lost the person he loved most in the world, the only family he had left except for Becky. He couldn’t endure losing anyone else.

“They aren’t too happy with me, either,” he added harshly. “Maybe it would be different if I was a wealthy, big-city specialist. But I’m not. I’m just a general practitioner who doesn’t play golf, and doesn’t plan on getting filthy rich.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks. But you’ll never convince the McKittricks I’m a proper guardian.”

Starr winced. Amelia had been raised mostly by nannies and servants—she’d wanted a different childhood for Becky. The elder McKittricks were decent in a stuffy kind of way, but they’d been lousy parents.

“All right.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him squarely. “They never liked Sam, they don’t approve of you and they own a bunch of newspapers. What has that got to do with hating the news media?”

He snorted. “You have no idea what it was like——news—paper articles implying Sam was at fault, suggesting pilot error.” Noah threw out his hand angrily. “There wasn’t any error, Sam was a great pilot. Then after Becky was put in my custody, the reporters started hounding me again, questioning my fitness and harassing me about my relationship with the McKittricks.”

“Oh.”

That was all she said. A single word.

“You see, don’t you?” he appealed. “It was like being surrounded by sharks.”

“I’m a photojournalist,” Starr said quietly. “Not that kind of reporter. And I’ve spent most of my career taking nature photos, which is completely different.”

Noah hesitated, remembering his thoughts earlier that morning. Starr was a respected photographer. She wouldn’t agree with the McKittricks’ muckraking tactics, no matter how close their friendship might be.

Oh, hell. He’d been a jerk. He’d let his temper override his common sense. “L..uh...I’m sorry.”

“Never mind.” She shrugged and hooked her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans. Noah groaned silently, because the motion reminded him how great she looked in those skin-fitting denims.

So much for a guilty conscience.

It would have been nice to talk to his brother about Starr, to get his opinion. God, he missed that...missed talking and laughing with someone who knew him better than anyone else in the world. He would have told Sam about Starr’s tight jeans and her tight bottom. Then he’d have complained about his lack of self-control and latent immaturity. The big goon would have sniggered and called him a Neanderthal—marriage had turned Sam into a real nineties kind of guy.

Noah gave himself a mental slap. He’d progressed beyond the ogling stage in his early twenties. Hadn’t he? Maybe it was just Starr. She was entirely too intriguing. And at the moment, she was also entirely too accessible.

He opened his mouth. “Do you know how tight your jeans are?”

“What?” She let her hands drop.

Uh-oh. A classic Freudian slip of the tongue. “I just meant...er...they look great.”

Watching closely, Noah could have sworn a trace of color touched her cheeks. Of course, it might have been from the crisp ocean breeze; Starr wasn’t the blushing type.

“You’re a Neanderthal,” she said tartly.

Suddenly Noah felt a lot better. Granted, it wasn’t Sam insulting him, but it was the same insult. Maybe they could just be friends.

No... He stopped and looked her up and down again. Friends and lovers maybe, but never just friends. A platonic relationship with Starr would never work. Never.

“How do you work in those? I mean, they’re really tight,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m surprised you can even walk.”

Starr ran her fingers over her thighs, enjoying the feel of the soft, worn fabric. She didn’t think jeans were worth anything until they’d been washed and worn to the last inch of their life. “Not that my clothes are any concern of yours, but I have big, baggy ones when I’m working, with lots of room in the pockets.”

“That’s good, because there’s no room in those pockets. Thank God,” he said with an exaggerated leer.

“Men,” she mumbled. They were all the same, no matter what language they spoke. Still, it was kind of cute. And rather surprising, considering the man was wearing a suit. On a Saturday, no less. It made him seem like a regular guy, not an uptight yuppie.

Uptight?

Starr bit her lip to keep from laughing. This whole thing was awfully funny, because Noah reminded her of the McKittricks, who were also a bit uptight.

Except...on him it was okay.

All at once panic hit Starr. She didn’t want to care about Noah Bradley. She didn’t want to think he was cute, or any other superlative like handsome or sexy, or even likable. And she certainly didn’t want to fall in love with him. So why had she kissed him? Temporary insanity?

Get a grip, she ordered silently. Her response to Noah was way out of proportion. Like getting so upset at his negative attitude toward reporters. She was used to that—she shouldn’t have let it become personal.

Noah lifted one of her hands and traced lazy circles over the base of her wrist.

Drat.

Starr tried to control her feminine response to his touch...and failed utterly. It was baffling. How could he make her so hot and shaky with a single touch?

“What are you doing?” she asked, a shade of desperation creeping into her tone as his gaze dropped, taking in the taut thrust of her breasts.

“Damned if I know,” he muttered. “I must be losing my mind. What is it about you that keeps me so confused?”

Starr couldn’t be sure, but she suspected his confusion was caused by his intellect arguing with male instinct On a purely rational level he obviously didn’t want to get involved with her. But on a physical level...maybe he wasn’t so sure. A small, embarrassed smile tugged at her lips—it was flattering, even though she didn’t want to get involved, either.

Of course, for men, sex didn’t necessarily mean “getting involved.” Hmmm. She’d have to think about that for a while. And what was so wrong with her anyway?

“For the record...” she said thoughtfully, “what do you dislike so much about me? I mean, aside from my impulsiveness and career. Oh, yes—and the fact I’m a friend of the McKittricks.”

“You want some kind of list?” he asked, giving her a teasing grin.

She smiled back—showing her teeth—and Noah’s expression became a lot more cautious. “Just hit the high points,” she said with an overdose of sweetness.

“Er...I don’t dislike you. But we’ve got different lives. Different priorities.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Aren’t you going to pull Becky into this? You seem determined to dictate the terms of my relationship with her.”

He sighed, an I’m being as patient as possible sigh. “I just suggested you keep things casual, at least until she’s a little older. She’s too young to really understand what happened to her mother and father, and she’s having a few problems adjusting. I don’t want anything else to upset her. She could get really fond of you, and then...” He shrugged.

Starr blinked. She respected Noah’s protectiveness of Becky, though it seemed to be a little in the overprotective category. Yet she couldn’t help thinking he was mostly looking for an excuse, not so much to keep her out of his niece’s life, but out of his. “I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

“Not intentionally.”

“Look, if you’re talking about the fire again, I was perfectly safe.”

“Yes,” he said tensely. “I’m talking about the fire. I’m talking about something happening to you...something permanent. You do some pretty crazy things.”

Starr glared. “What do you mean by that?”

Uh-oh. Rocky territory. Noah already knew the warning signs. Flashing eyes. A stiffened spine. And a tightness to her generous mouth worthy of a schoolmarm. Sheesh, she was prickly. One innocent little statement and she was ready to flatten him.

“Hell, Starr. Look at your life. You don’t exactly live by the rules.”

“Your rules, maybe.”

“Dammit. You’re deliberately misunderstanding me!” Noah waited a tense minute, not wanting to say something he’d regret. Starr’s life was her own concern. If she wanted to throw it away for some photographs, then he didn’t have the right to object. But he wanted to. He wanted to nail her shoes to the floor so she couldn’t take such wild chances. “You have an unusual life-style. Most people are a little more...”

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