Starstruck. Julie Kenner

his agent that the proximity of his next door neighbor was keeping his head in a decidedly un-Max-like mode. But that was okay. Because he was about to go spend a week in New Mexico in a flashy, splashy resort. He’d shift between writing the article for Tourist and Travel and writing pages of Max Dalton’s next installment. He’d hole himself up in his hotel room, crank out the pages, and produce some fabulous shit.

      With over six hundred miles between him and Alyssa, how hard could it be?

      3

      “GEORGE BAILEY, I’LL love you ’til the day I die.”

      “Awww.” Alyssa sank down into her overstuffed sofa and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

      Claire tossed a handful of popcorn at her. “The movie’s barely even started.”

      “I know,” Alyssa said with a sniffle. “But I know what’s going to happen.” She sniffed again, then blew her nose. “It just gets me every time.

      “And the alcohol’s probably not helping.”

      “You’re the one who insisted on peppermint schnapps and hot chocolate.”

      Alyssa couldn’t argue with that. And, hey, the libations had done their job. They’d both come home from the carriage ride in a funk. The original plan had been to pick out a handful of the many invitations they’d both received and go party-hopping, hoping they’d slide gracefully into the holiday spirit.

      But after they’d climbed into Claire’s car, neither one had the energy, and they’d ended up at Alyssa’s apartment, trying to drown their depression in schnapps-laced hot chocolate and a hefty dose of Frank Capra.

      “Why can’t we be like Mary Hatch and get a guy like George Bailey?” Alyssa asked.

      Claire lifted a brow. “You don’t want a guy like George Bailey. He wants to travel and never has money to fix up his house.”

      “It’s a movie, Claire,” Alyssa said, even though her friend was absolutely right.

      “You want Sam Wainwright,” Claire said, exhibiting perfect understanding. “The hardcore businessman to George Bailey’s laid-back guy.”

      “Alas, there are no Sam Wainwrights in Dallas.”

      “Russell Starr,” Claire said, then sat back looking proud of herself.

      “What about him?”

      “Not two hours ago you told me he was your fantasy man.”

      “So?”

      “So do something about it.”

      Alyssa gaped. “You are seriously crazy, you know that, right? We went out for drinks. One kiss—”

      “An amazing kiss.”

      “—but just a kiss,” Alyssa said. “It’s not a great romance, Claire.”

      “Of course not, since you didn’t call him the next day and push for an actual date.”

      No, Alyssa had to admit, she hadn’t. And that was something for which she was still kicking herself. He’d known about Bob, of course, and so she could totally justify in her mind why he hadn’t called her. She was taken. And it was that same reason that had prevented her from calling him. Considering she’d broken up with Bob only a few months later, perhaps she should have rethought that decision.

      “You need to learn to go after what you want, Al,” Claire said, frowning as she concentrated on her words. Their mugs were filled with more mint than chocolate, and it was clearly going to their heads. “If there were sparks with Russell that night, you should go for it.”

      “The only thing I’m going to go after right now is that partnership. If I don’t bring new business to the firm in the next couple of weeks, my chance takes a nosedive. I already know that Bayne is gunning for the slot to go to Roland. He wants a new partner with SEC experience. He figures that since Prescott’s specialty is mediation, that makes me extraneous.”

      Although Alyssa had a number of clients for whom she did general litigation work, more and more she was taking on mediation jobs, setting herself up as an arbiter of disputes and trying to help the sides negotiate their way to a settlement and avoid the financial and emotional toll of a trial. She loved the work, believed in its value, and it irritated her that Roland got partner points simply because he focused on securities law.

      Still, she couldn’t ignore reality, and if partnership at Prescott was off the table, that meant that she’d have to start looking for a new job, because she wasn’t about to stay at a firm that was a dead end. The idea of job-hunting gave her hives, and she took another sip of minty chocolate to dull the pain caused by the mere potential.

      “Who says you can’t do both?” Claire said, lifting her brows. “A little business…a little pleasure…”

      “Claire!”

      “Don’t you at least owe it to yourself to try?”

      “Fine. Maybe. I will concede that Russell Starr would be a great catch. But he’s taken. The man’s dating a United States senator’s daughter.”

      “Not anymore.” Claire took a sip from her mug, her eyes dancing. When the mug came away, a chocolate mustache highlighted her upper lip. “Broke up last week. Your boy’s single.”

      “Oh.” The schnapps in Alyssa’s stomach started doing a Riverdance kind of number. “You’re certain?” She didn’t really have to ask, though. As the daughter of a Texas state senator herself, Claire always had the political/social gossip at her fingertips.

      “Interesting little tidbit, huh?”

      Alyssa frowned, wondering if it even mattered. She had no idea how to go after a man like Russell. And while she enjoyed a fantasy as much as the next girl, the odds that he would come after her were slim. He was the kind of guy who dated celebrities and public figures. Not really in her league.

      She took another sip and squinted at her friend, who was holding a finger out and looking downright serious. “What?” Alyssa asked.

      Claire frowned, confused. “I was going to say something, but I can’t remember what. But it was profound. Trust me. Profound and brilliant, and if I could remember it right now, it would be the key—the absolute key—to both of us finding the perfect man and living happily ever after.”

      “Christmas is only five days away. Can’t Santa just drop the happily-ever-after in our laps?”

      “What would you tell him to drop?” Claire asked, sitting up straighter. “Seriously. Give me five things. Five things that would make this your most perfect Christmas ever.”

      “Partnership. Locked in.”

      “Boring much? Come on, give me something a little more interesting. This is the holidays. The season of parties and fine frockery.”

      “Frockery?”

      “You know. Dresses and stuff.”

      “I am so cutting you off from the schnapps.”

      “Just tell me. Come on. You know you want to. Come on,” Claire said, her voice low and urging, as though she was trying to coax a reluctant tabby cat into a carrier. “Come on. Tell Claire every little thing.”

      “Fine! All right! Russell Starr,” Alyssa said. “Russell Starr would make it a perfect Christmas.” What the hell? This was fantasy, right? And he was gorgeous. He was stability and security personified. He was fun to be around. And he could land her a job-saving client.

      “Better,” Claire said, setting her mug down before she sloshed more chocolate. “But I want more. Christmas isn’t just about getting the guy. What would make the holiday really perfect for you? Five things.”

      Alyssa frowned, trying to think something up. But the truth was,