Julie Kenner - Starstruck

Alyssa laughed then rolled over to look at his face. “Hell, yes. You?”

“Absolutely.” He kissed her hard. “But I need a moment to recharge.”

“Television?”

“Seems appropriate,” he said, grappling for the remote.

“Don’t even think you get to be in charge of that thing,” she said. “We are not watching sports after sex.”

“Sports after sex is a time-honored tradition,” he insisted. “Like a cigarette.”

“I don’t smoke,” she said, leaning across him. “So give me the remote.”

“Try and get it,” he said, scooting away from her. Then he stopped. “Wait a minute. See, this is how it starts. First sex. Then a power struggle for the remote. We’re well on our way to coupledom.”

Coupledom.

The word echoed in Alyssa’s head, killing her smile. This was supposed to be only a fling, not a relationship. But how was she supposed to let Chris in on that secret?

www.spice-books.co.uk

J. KENNERhas always loved stories—reading them, watching them on television and on the silver screen, and making them up herself. She studied film before attending law school, but knew that her real vocation lay in writing the kind of books she loves to read. She lives in Texas with her husband, two daughters and several cats.

Also available

SILENT DESIRES

THE PERFECT SCORE

NOBODY DOES IT BETTER

MOONSTRUCK

NIGHT MOVES

MAKING WAVES

UNDERCOVER LOVERS

The Starr Resort in this story is a completely fictional place, but the location (and a few amenities) is loosely based on the fabulous Bishop's Lodge Ranch Resort & Spa, of which I have fond memories.

Super special thanks to Brenda Chin,

Kathleen O'Reilly and Jess Dawson.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

CLIP-CLOP, clip-clop, clip-clop.

Prince Robert lifted his head and whinnied, to the delight of all six people riding in the horse-drawn carriage.

In the back row, Alyssa Chambers snuggled under the blanket, a cup of warm cider held tightly in her hand. The soft strains of Bing Crosby crooning “Winter Wonderland” drifted back from the speakers hidden low on the carriage side walls. Colored holiday lights sparkled in the fog, the mist giving them an ethereal quality that seemed appropriate for the Christmas season.

The carriage moved steadily down the street, providing Alyssa and the other passengers a stunning view of the ornate homes in Dallas’s Highland Park neighborhood, now shining and sparkling for the holidays.

“Oh, man,” Claire Daniels moaned. “Isn’t this just the most romantic night ever?”

Beside her, Alyssa turned, brows raised. “Um, hello? Dateless, remember?”

Claire lifted her chin. “I’m practicing the power of positive thinking.”

Alyssa glanced at the two rows in front of them. Two rows with four people. Two couples. Two guys. Two girls. And they were snuggled under blankets, arms around each other, oblivious to the lights, the music—everything but each other.

And Alyssa, well aware that she was enjoying a romantic carriage ride with her best friend instead of a boyfriend, swallowed hard on the jealousy that rose in her throat.

“Positive thinking, huh?” she asked. “Is it working?” If it was, she was going to have to try it—really try it. Because despite all the ho-ho-ho and happy-holiday festivities that Dallas offered up during late December, Alyssa wasn’t feeling the seasonal love.

“Not in the least,” admitted Claire. She’d broken up with her boyfriend a few months prior. Or, rather, he’d broken up with her. And the loss of Joe had hit Claire where it counted—her pride.

Alyssa frowned, her mind whirring as she sat quietly in the carriage, plotting creative ways to torture the idiot who had decided that Christmas events should be designed for couples.

Party hosts expected you to arrive with a date. The theater sold dinner-and-show packages for two. Even the carriage ride to see the famous Highland Park lights seated you in even numbers, as if you weren’t anybody unless you were part of a pair.

Was it any wonder the suicide rate increased during the holidays?

Alyssa had been single since summer, when she’d broken up once and for all with her boyfriend Bob. It had been a particularly unpleasant breakup, since they’d started out as friends. Good friends. Solid. But after a while, they’d started dancing around the attraction thing, and before Alyssa knew it they were out on a date, and then they were in bed and then they were a couple staring down the road of life to marriage and kids and a dog.

At first, that had seemed perfect. But then little things started to get in the way, and soon, neither Alyssa nor Bob could even remember why they’d been friends. They seemed so uniquely unright for each other that even the memory of the times they used to just hang together had been tarnished.

The breakup had been worse because it had been two breakups: one with the lover and one with the friend. And as an added injustice, Alyssa had been dateless ever since.

“At least you can take Chris,” Claire said. “To all the parties and stuff, I mean.”

Alyssa nodded. Chris was a prime example of not making the same mistake twice. Her across-the-hall neighbor was desperately sexy, funny and easy to talk to. But he was her friend, and had been from the get-go. The stamp of friendship was firmly on his forehead, and despite the fact that he was sweet and smart and incredibly hot, there was no way she would ever risk that friendship for sex. No way, no how.

She’d learned that lesson with Bob, in a big way.

Not that sex was even in the realm of possibilities. When she’d first met Chris, she’d felt a warm tingle of attraction, and then firmly and soundly squashed it. For one thing, the tingle had so clearly not been reciprocated. In the two years they’d known each other, he’d never made even the slightest hint of a move on her.

At first, Alyssa’s pride had been tweaked by his failure to come on to her, because that was what guys did, right? And, yeah, also because the tingle she’d felt had been more like a loud, clanging bell. But the truth was that his disinterest made her life easier, because Chris, with his freelance-writer lifestyle, was squarely N.M.M.—Not Marriage Material. Alyssa had never seen the point in dating guys who didn’t even land on the possibility spectrum. Yes, she’d broken her rule on a few occasions and gone out with guys who were clearly not the matrimonial kind, but she’d never managed to stay friends with them after the inevitable breakup. Better to put those kind of guys in the Friends column from the start and avoid any messy entanglements later.

As far as she was concerned, Chris was at the very top of that column. And, yeah, there were times late at night—when they were watching a movie or making margaritas—that she’d feel a warm flood of desire and frantically wish he’d do something to make that scarlet N.M.M. disappear. But she knew better than to believe that would ever happen. She’d grown up with a man just like Chris, after all: a freelance writer out perpetually chasing a story—and a paycheck.

Alyssa could remember the long weeks when her dad was away on writing assignments, and the pang of longing for a father who was never home. She’d beg to go with him, and when he returned, she’d pore over the pictures and imagine that she’d been right by his side. But her dad never took her. Not feasible, he’d said. Not when she had school and he had to work.