Starlight Read Free Page A

to speak, and Karen was courteous enough not to press. After a dance or two, she discovered that she was completely content to sit with him, not talking, if he wished. She hummed and watched the dancers as they waltzed through the wintry scene. She could almost see Rand relax his guard and accept her company.
    “Aren’t the decorations magnificent?” she asked thoughtlessly, then gasped, recognizing her blunder. How stupid could she be? “If my new shoes are tight, I needn’t worry,” she apologized. “After they’ve been in my mouth a couple of times, they’ll fit fine. That was stupid. Please excuse me,” she added soberly.
    “Don’t worry,” he assured her, almost enjoying her discomfort. “It’s a common mistake. Describe the decorations, will you?”
    It was a pleasure to narrate the lovely scene portrayed by the dangling snowflakes. With her natural flair for theatrics, she described the hall in graphic detail. In afterthought, she added interesting tidbits she knew about some of its occupants.
    “It’s almost impossible to tell when Uncle Evan is angry or upset, but he has a telltale twitch in his upper lip. If you see it move, watch out. And then there’s Clayton Dunbar, a distant relative of the Forsyths’. He’s about as subtle as a garden serpent and has the sincerity of a used-car salesman. He marks his conquests on his bedpost to brag to his friends.”
    “Do I detect a note of mockery?”
    “No use hiding the fact that I detest the man. He’s about as obvious as a Sherman tank.” It was unlike Karen to be catty, and she immediately felt guilty. Besides, was she being any less obvious about her interest in Rand? “That’s unfair. I’m sure Clayton hasseveral good qualities … somewhere.”
    Rand gave a hearty laugh. “You’re apt at describing others. How would you depict yourself?”
    “I couldn’t,” she protested automatically. “How do you picture me?”
    “You have an intriguing voice.” He paused, thinking. “But I’m not referring to the tone quality. You possess an unshakable resolve. I doubt that you’ve ever failed in any pursuit. You’re upbeat, cheerful.”
    “Heavens,” Karen said dryly, “you make me sound like a high school cheerleader.”
    “Definitely not high school. You must be all of nineteen, maybe twenty.”
    Karen laughed lightly. “I’m a whole world away from high school or college. I’m twenty-three.”
    Rand grinned, then added, “You must be five-seven, five-eight at the most.”
    Impressed, Karen lifted her brows expressively. “Five-seven.”
    “Long dark hair and metallic-blue eyes.”
    “Short dark curls, equally dark eyes.”
    A hand cupped the back of her neck; his fingers twisted the pliable curls. Karen was too startled by the sudden action to protest. Her heart rate soared as a languorous warmth spread from her neck.
    He chuckled softly and said, “Yes, short, but soft and inviting. Your eyes must be expressive, promising.” He relaxed against his chair, the dim light illuminating his strongly defined features. Again, Karen experienced the full impact of his masculinity.
    “That’s not quite right, but I’m not going to disillusion you with the truth.” She laughed because she’d always thought her dark eyes, the color of bitter chocolate, were plain. Rand made them sound exciting and enticing.
    “Give me your hand,” he said suddenly. When she complied, his fingers gently examined hers. “You’re not a secretary, or your fingertips wouldn’t be this smooth. Nor do you walk with the crisp purpose of a nurse.”
    “That’s a chauvinistic attitude. All women aren’t secretaries or nurses. I’m not a teacher, either.”
    “Aha!” He laughed again. “You’re employed in a man’s field.”
    Karen smiled at his novel methods of deducing her occupation, but the smile died quickly as she spied Clayton Dunbar eyeing her from the edge of the dance floor. She stiffened instinctively, her reluctance obvious.
    “Is