Love at Any Cost

by Julie Lessman

  Her uncle’s gaze darted downstairs, brows in a scrunch. “Cait’s still up? I thought she only had five or ten minutes of paperwork before heading to bed.”

  “Me too,” Cassie said, “but she probably just wanted to enjoy the night air.” She nodded down the hall. “You’re calling it quits? Sounds like the party’s just getting started.”

  He glanced behind him and grinned. “It is. We have a very volatile billiards tournament going on, and I’m in charge of reinforcements.” He leaned close. “But, if you can’t sleep, I’d pay good money to see you take Jamie down a peg or two. The man’s downright cocky since he’s fleeced both Blake and me, and now he has poor Bram in his sights.”

  A full-fledged grin eased across her lips. “Believe me, Uncle Logan, there’s nothing I’d rather do than de-peg Mr. MacKenna, but I’m not dressed for pretty-boy humiliation.”

  Chuckling, Logan tweaked a loose curl on her shoulder. “You oughta take it easy on the man, Cass. Other than his propensity to cockiness at boxing or pool, he’s not so bad.”

  “So I’ve heard,” she said with an off-center smile. “And I hope to make him even better with a hefty dose of humility.” She kissed his cheek. “Good night, Uncle Logan. See you soon?”

  ———

  He tapped her nose. “If your aunt doesn’t change the locks first. G’night, Cass.” Logan watched her ascend to the third level, his heart swelling with pride as if she were his own daughter. She certainly could have been—she was a McClare through and through—gutsy, determined, smart, and no-nonsense, a combination he admired. His thoughts veered to Caitlyn as he descended the steps. Not unlike Cait, he mused, all the more deadly wrapped in a gentle and graceful package. His pulse sped up as he approached the open French doors where moonlight spilled in along with the salty scent of the sea and Cait’s pillar roses from the garden below.

  She was nothing but a silhouette in the dim glow of a quarter moon, casually reclined on her wrought-iron settee. Still as a statue, she sat back, head resting and arms folded, seemingly entranced by the glimmer of the bay. Pale moonlight made her glow like the purest of alabaster, caressing her skin like he longed to do. You were such a fool, he berated himself for the thousandth time, first for cheating on her and then for ever letting her go. But he’d been too young and too stupid to realize no other woman could even come close to the rare gift he’d once held in his arms, nuzzled with his lips, treasured in his heart. A bitter lesson learned far too late, stealing his joy far too long. His jaw ground to rock. But not anymore. No, Liam may have had the privilege of loving her for almost twenty-six years, and rightfully so. But now it was his turn, and he would not lose her a second time. He unrolled the sleeves of his shirt and rebuttoned the cuffs, watching her with the same fierce determination that served him as one of the city’s most respected lawyers. She would be his someday, he vowed. His mouth crooked. Once I win her back, that is . . . He sucked in a deep breath and opened the door. “Cait?”

  She jerked so fast, she actually rattled the settee, a clear indication his presence rattled her as well. He couldn’t help the smile that twitched on his lips, her wide eyes and parted lips evidence that he was making headway. He obviously made her nervous, a new development that hadn’t been evident before—not during her marriage to his brother nor after his death. But in the last six months? Oh, yeah, Caitlyn McClare was on her guard and that could only mean one thing. His smile eased into a grin. She was scared to death of her feelings. He closed the screen door behind him. “What are you doing out here in the dark?”

  She cleared her throat and lifted her chin in that defensive way she had when he got too bossy . . . or too close. “Oh, more paperwork than anticipated, but I just finished and I’m afraid the sea breeze lured me out.” She rose, obviously intending to make a clean getaway, feigning a yawn that was hardly convincing. “Goodness, it’s late and I’m exhausted. I best head up.”

  He stayed her arm with a hand as she tried to pass and didn’t miss the slight catch of her breath. “Cait, can we talk?” His palm slid to her wrist, gently kneading. “Please?”

  Tendons in that deliciously creamy neck tightened when she swallowed, body tense as she stepped back. Nervously buffing her arms, she gave a little shrug before offering a wavering smile. “It can’t wait? I’m so tired right now, my mind is pure mush.”

  He grinned, tugging her over to the settee with a coax in his tone. “Actually ‘mush’ is right where I need you, Mrs. McClare, since I have favors to ask. Between your mush and my legal skills of persuasion, I just may win this case.”

  He eased her down on the settee, then sat beside her, biting back a smile when she scooted over. Body stiff, she faced him, arms crossed at her waist. “All right, Logan. What is it?”

  Tamping down his humor, he shifted to speak, his pose relaxed despite jitters in his stomach. He draped an arm over the settee and studied her, his manner sober. “Cait, it’s no secret that you and your children are the most important things in my life . . .”

  She shot to her feet. “Logan, I’m sorry, really, but I’m very tired . . .”

  “What I have to say won’t take long, I promise.” Skilled in the art of wooing a jury, he infused a touch of humility in his tone. “Surely you can spare a few moments?”

  He attempted to draw her back and she shook her head. “All right,” she said, arms clutched as if it were the dead of winter while she eased to the wall. “But I prefer to stand.”

  “That’s fine,” he said quietly, sinking back into the settee. He was silent for several seconds as he watched her, her body rigid against the balustrade. Moonlight eclipsed her like a halo, and the shadows in her face could not obscure the wariness in her eyes. Drawn to her as always, he fought hard to stop himself from jumping up and pulling her into his arms, telling her how much he wanted her, needed her. But she would bolt faster than a fawn in a forest afire, and that was the last thing he wanted. Exhaling softly, he massaged the bridge of his nose, his voice edged with fatigue. “Cait,” he began again, tone as calm and controlled as if he were addressing a difficult client. “Family means everything to me, and now that Cassie is here for the summer, I’d very much like to be able to come over more than once a week.”

  She blinked, jaw distended enough for him to notice. “That’s it? That’s the favor—to come over more often while Cassie is here?”

  Her chest slowly expanded and released as she visibly relaxed, and he clamped his lips to thwart the smile that itched. Good grief, did she think I was going to propose? No lawyer worth his salt would offer a proposition like that without perfect timing and emotional groundwork being laid. And everyone knew, from Nob Hill to the Barbary Coast, that Logan McClare was worth his salt and then some.

  He perched on the edge, hands loosely clasped. “Well, the first one, anyway.”

  “Oh.” A muscle quivered in her throat. “What else?”

  He huffed out a sigh and peered up, head cocked to assess her with a frank gaze. “I want to do things with the kids this summer—bring them to my Napa estate for a picnic, take ’em to Sutro Baths for the day, dinner and dancing at The Palace Hotel and then to the Cliff House. You know, things like the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show the first week in August?” Pausing, he sat up straight with brows bunched. “Wait—will Cassie still be here then?”

  A smile softened her lips as she nodded, giving him one of those sweet looks that melted his heart—the kind she gave Blake and the boys whenever they did something she thought was adorable. His heart swelled with love, this time forcing a dip in his own throat.

  She leaned back to the wall, arms resting on either side. That remarkable lavender dress swished as her hip shifted to bear her weight on one leg while the other relaxed, knee bent to butt a delicate slipper to the bottom of the wall. A rose-scented breeze played with tendrils of her hair, fluttering it against the curve of a neck he craved to caress with his mouth. He could sense rather than see the sparkle in those gentle aquamarine eyes, eyes th
at could make a man sell his soul for the sake of love. He sucked in a deep swallow of air.

  Like me.

  Her voice was soft with just a hint of her Bostonian accent that slipped out whenever she was at ease. “Quinn and Virginia don’t know it yet, but Cassie hopes to teach in San Francisco for a year or two.” Her smile turned melancholy. “A fresh start to put the past behind.”

  He studied her in silence before slowly rising to his feet, closing the distance to stand beside her. Hip to the wall, he casually traced the smooth edge of the marble balustrade with his palm. “Yes, a fresh start,” he said, following the motion of his hand until the tips of his fingers brushed hers. He peered up beneath lidded eyes when she quickly pulled away, arms barricaded to her waist in emotional defense. “Which brings me to my last favor, Cait,” he whispered, voice huskier than intended. “It’s been almost two years—don’t you think you could use a fresh start too?”

  “No . . . ,” she whispered, shaking her head hard. “It feels like yesterday that Liam . . .” Her words broke on a heave as tears shimmered in the moonlight. “I’m just not ready . . .”

  “Aw, Cait . . .” Before she could stop him, he cocooned her in his arms, his own grief over the past becoming one with her own. She attempted to pull away, body unyielding as her muffled sobs quivered against his chest, but he tightened his hold, gentle but firm while he stroked her hair. “I can’t stand to see you in pain,” he said, his voice hoarse, “so let it all out. Go ahead and thrash and cry and rail against the gods for the loss of someone you loved, but don’t let it eat you alive.” He bent his head to hers, the sound of her weeping slicing him open, exposing a love for her so deep and so raw, it shocked him to the core. Her body wracking against his, she allowed him to lead her to the settee where she wept in his arms. When her quivers subsided, he handed her a handkerchief, smiling when she sniffed and blew her nose like a little girl. “Feel better?” he whispered, thumb grazing the edge of her jaw.

  She nodded and sniffed again, eyes glazed with sorrow as they trailed to the bay, lost in a faraway stare. “I miss him, Logan . . . so much.”

  “Me, too, Cait,” he said quietly. More than you know. Missed forgiving his brother before it was too late . . . and missed the closeness they’d once shared so very long ago.

  Before the woman in his arms had torn them apart . . .

  His mind in a fog that surely matched Cait’s, he absently feathered the curls at the nape of her neck, his thoughts as melancholy as hers. She didn’t seem to notice, so lost in her soulful reverie was she, sagging against his chest with a wispy sigh. “S-sometimes,” she whispered, voice thick with remorse, “I still get angry at him, as if he had any say in leaving . . .”

  He drew in a deep breath, barely aware as he gently kneaded the back of her neck. “I know, I wrestle with that too.” He exhaled. “Among other things . . .”

  With a catch of her breath, she pulled quickly away. “Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t be burdening you like this.”

  He angled a brow. “Do you feel better?”

  She paused before a faint smile tipped the edge of her mouth. “You know, I believe I do.”

  He gave her hand a light squeeze. “Well, then, that’s what friends are for.” Gaze fused to hers, he skimmed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms and whisper his love in her ear. But if he learned anything in law school, it was that timing was key, and Caitlyn McClare was too important, too special—too critical to his happiness—to risk botching it like before. And so he caressed her face with his eyes instead, stroking her cheek, tracing her lips in his mind, loving her vicariously through his thoughts. Until she finally belonged to him. And it was coming. Oh, yes, it was coming . . .

  Patting her hand, he rose and pulled her with him, nudging her to the door. “You look beat, Cait, better get some sleep.”

  He opened the screen, and she hurried through, turning halfway when he clicked it behind her. “You’re not coming in?” she asked, perfectly sculpted brows inched up in surprise.

  “Nope.” Nodding toward the second story, he reached in his jacket for a cigarette from a gold monogrammed case, giving her a little-boy grin. “I know you don’t like me to smoke in the house, and I don’t indulge all that much anymore, but I need a break. Especially after getting my clock cleaned in pool by one of your boys. But don’t worry, I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

  She studied him with a soft look that held traces of affection, surprise, and wonder. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her head tilted, and in the moonlight, she looked like that same innocent girl he’d fallen in love with. His throat suddenly ached. Truth be told, she still was, and the pull she wielded was so powerful, he felt his rib cage constrict. Her tender smile did funny things to his gut. “And I’m not worried,” she whispered, her next words packing a wallop. “Because I trust you, Logan. Good night.”

  “G’night, Cait.” Snapping the case open and shut, he put a cigarette in his mouth before lighting it with a shaky hand, figuring he’d need the whole blasted thing to calm him back down. He took a sharp inhale and blew it out, the weight and meaning of her words abundantly clear, at least to him if not to her. Elbows on the balustrade, he stared out at the shimmering bay, the tip of his cigarette glowing red in the night. Trusting him once had been her biggest mistake. He slowly exhaled, his thoughts drifting like the curls of smoke that rose in the sky. He’d make good and sure trusting him twice wouldn’t be her second.

  10

  A low whistle slipped from Jamie’s lips. “Holy thunder, Abraham, would you look at those gams!” He swallowed hard, his tongue as dry as the mountains of sand dredged out by Sutro Baths on the far side of the shore.

  San Francisco’s premiere indoor swimming facility was abuzz with people enjoying seven seawater and freshwater pools beneath a four-story glazed roof of 100,000 panes of stained glass. Sunlight dappled the people and water below with rainbow colors while children splashed and played with parents and friends. The pools fairly shimmered with activity like a sea of minnows, from bathers milling on the platforms to swimmers flying high on toboggan slides, swings, flying rings, and trampolines. The crash of the surf on the rocky shore outside filtered in between the laughter and shrieks of children of all ages, each and every one thrilling to Adolph Sutro’s man-made wonder. The largest and most magnificent bathhouse in the world, San Francisco’s top summer attraction lured people far and wide, a veritable Atlantis where ten thousand bathers could experience a love affair with the sea all at one time.

  A love affair, indeed, Jamie thought with a race of his pulse, but not with the sea. Despite the buzz and hum of this water wonderland, his gaze was fused solely on Cassidy McClare, the breath in his lungs heaving to a stop the moment she stepped from the ladies’ locker. Even in Sutro Baths’ standard black woolen rental bathing suits, she was a vision, sporting a thigh-high hem striped with white that showcased the most beautiful legs he’d ever seen. He sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head. Heavenly days, I’m in love!

  “Hey, you ogling my cousin, MacKenna?” Blake said in a tease, palming seawater into Jamie’s face as he, Bram, and Jamie sat on the side of the pool. Feet dangling in the water, the three men fared better than most in Sutro’s standard issue of black men’s one-piece rental suits, revealing broad shoulders and hard-muscled bodies honed to intimidation at the Oly Club gym.

  A low chuckle rumbled from Bram’s throat. “Oh, he’s doing more than ogling.” He brushed a fly from his shoulder. “Trust me, Mac has designs on Cass for ogling and more.”

  Jamie flicked a handful of water at Bram, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “What are you talking about, Hughes, Cassie and I are just friends.”

  “Sure you are,” Bram said with a grin. “I’ve never seen you this far gone over a ‘friend’ before, and since it’s Blake’s cousin, I figure he has a right to know.”

  “Know what?” Blake gave Jamie the eye. “You smitten wi
th our Texas girl, Mac?”

  Sliding Bram a thin gaze, Jamie cuffed the back of his neck as he shot Blake a sheepish look. “You could say that, or in Texas vernacular, you might say I’m hog-tied in love.”

  Blake grinned and slapped Jamie’s back. “Well, I have no problem with you being in the family. May as well be, as much as you eat us out of house and home.”

  Jamie gritted his teeth, gaze roving to where Cassie and her cousins were making their way over. “Just one problem, Blake. When it comes to men, she’s as skittish as a newborn colt. It’s taken weeks for her to even talk to me, and the only way I could get her to be civil was to tell her I just wanted to be friends.”

  “Which is nothing but a brazen lie,” Bram said with a chuckle. He thumped the side of Jamie’s head. “How’s it feel, MacKenna, not to have a woman swoon at your feet?”

  Jamie slapped his hand away, flashing some teeth. “More like you mortals, I guess. I’ll tell you what, though, it sure helps me to understand you a lot better, Hughes.”

  “Well, you must be making some headway.” Blake squinted at Cassie out of the corner of his eye as she chatted with Alli. “Seems she’s been a lot less crusty with you lately.”

  “Yeah, she has,” Jamie said with a soft smile. “Which means just a few more weeks of friendship, and then I make my move.”

  Blake skewed him with a look. “Your move? With my cousin?”

  Jamie grinned. “Purely legitimate, McClare—nothing more than a kiss to convince her we’ve moved beyond friends. I’m not stupid enough to pull anything funny with a girl like her, trust me. Good grief, the woman would rope and brand me if I got fresh, which I have to admit—” he offered a crooked grin—“would be well worth the risk.”