Love at Any Cost (The Heart of San Francisco Book #1): A Novel

by Julie Lessman

  “You seem . . . distracted,” she said, a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

  The fire combusted in his cheeks. “A little, I suppose.” He worked hard to focus only on her, hoping to assuage her concern with an apology and a little-boy smile. “Forgive me? I’m afraid my mind keeps straying to a particularly difficult case at work.”

  With a blink of violet eyes, Patricia glanced over her shoulder in Cassie’s direction, returning her gaze to his with a tilt of her head. Concern was etched into every pore of her beautiful face. “Or maybe a particular person?” she said, a hint of a tremor in her tone.

  The music ended and Jamie drew in a deep breath. “Cassie and I are only friends, Trish,” he said quietly, leading her back to the table. He sat beside her and downed the last of his water.

  “But only because she’s poor . . .” Her voice trailed off, barely a whisper.

  The sheen in her eyes pierced, and he took her hands in his. “Trish,” he said softly, “you and I—we’re good together. We like each other a lot, we have fun and most importantly, we have a mutually beneficial relationship that’s totally honest. You want to marry an up-and-coming lawyer with political aspirations? I need your father’s influence to secure a surgery for my sister and help achieve my political goals.” His heart constricted at the vulnerable look in her eyes. “I have feelings for you, you know that, and they will grow, trust me.”

  Her bodice quivered as she drew in a shaky breath. “But will your feelings for Cassie go away?” she whispered, and the fear in her voice tore at his gut. She was in love with him, and he knew it even though he’d done everything in his power to take it slow when they’d first met, playing the field and seeing others in addition to her. But for some reason she’d fallen hard, determined to stake her claim. Maybe because her father seemed bent on him as well, a rags-to-riches politician who admired Jamie’s fire and spunk in climbing out of the sewers of the Barbary Coast. He’d made it abundantly clear he welcomed Jamie as a prospective son-in-law as much as Patricia wanted him as a husband, and Jamie knew the coffers were lined with gold if he courted his daughter. Including a house on Nob Hill and society approval as never before, not to mention government connections Jamie could only dream about. And most importantly, the political clout and bank account to provide a surgery for his sister. Everything he’d ever wanted.

  Until Cassie.

  Yes, Cassie had changed the flow of his heart, but he couldn’t allow her to change its course. A course he’d decided on six months prior when he’d suspected Patricia was the one. Would his feelings for Cassie go away? He didn’t know, but he did know what Trish needed to hear. He pressed a gentle kiss to her nose. “I’m sure of it—in time.”

  “Trish, care to join me in the ladies’ room?” Liddy hurried over, face flushed from dancing with Blake.

  Jamie glanced up at Patricia’s sister and smiled, giving Trish’s hand a light squeeze. “Go—I’ll step out for some fresh air, and we’ll dance after, all right?”

  She nodded and rose to her feet, bending to bestow a peck to his cheek.

  His heart felt like lead as he watched her and Liddy depart and exhaling a heavy breath, he rose and headed in the opposite direction of the crowded veranda. He preferred the near seclusion of the observation tower several stories above and quickly scaled the numerous flights of steps that deterred most patrons. Anxious to clear his mind with fresh sea air and views of waves crashing the rocky shore, he stepped out into the briny air. And stopped. His heart thudded at the sight of Cass and Harper at the far end, chatting as they both leaned over the stone wall.

  Harper’s shoulder grazing Cassie’s triggered a spark of anger, and striding over, Jamie thumped him on the back. “Sorry to disturb, old boy, but Blake’s looking for you.”

  Harper glanced over his shoulder. “What for?” he asked, irritation evident in his tone.

  “Didn’t ask. “Jamie smiled. “But I’ll be happy to stay with Cass while you go find out.”

  “No, thanks.” Harper cupped a hand to Cassie’s waist. “We were just heading down.”

  “Actually, Brad,” Jamie said easily, his smile and manner casual, “I need to talk to Cass about something if you don’t mind, so I’ll escort her back shortly if it’s all right with her.”

  Harper glanced at Cassie and she nodded. “It’s fine, Brad, really.”

  “All right,” Brad said with a light squeeze of her hand. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  The moment he was out of earshot, Cassie turned to Jamie with a fold of arms. “So . . . something tells me you just sent Brad on a wild goose chase, MacKenna. Mind telling me why?”

  The cool sea air ruffled Cassie’s hair and dress, but did nothing to cool Jamie’s temper. Searing her with a scowl, he butted a hip to the wall, his words far more clipped than intended. “You have no business up here with a man like him, Cass—Harper has a reputation.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head, eyes in a squint. “An odd declaration from a man whose reputation would make most men look like a monk.”

  His jaw began to grind. “I thought you didn’t like pretty boys, Miss McClare.”

  “No,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I don’t trust pretty boys. You cured me of that.”

  He slammed a palm to the wall, hand stinging as much as his pride. “Blast it, Cass, what are you trying to do to me?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He jerked an arm towards the door. “Harper drooling all over you tonight, you coming up here alone with him?” He leaned in with a tic in his jaw. “I’ve never seen you play the flirt before, and it’s not becoming.”

  Her chin lashed up. “No? Well, I trust your opinion about as much as I trust you. And I don’t know why you’re so all-fired worried. Worry about Patricia—she’s your concern, not me.” She pushed past. “Excuse me.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” he hissed.

  She whirled around, flinging his hand off. “Why, Jamie? Isn’t that what you did to me?”

  The raw truth of her words hit dead-center, unleashing a guilt he’d tried so hard to ignore. The lie to himself that she would understand because they were good friends. And that, as good friends, she’d wish him well with Patricia and not be hurt. His stomach cramped at the wounded look in her eyes and with a brutal ache in his chest, he wrenched her close, burying his face in her hair. “God help me, Cass, I did, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done . . .”

  “No!” She jerked free, sparks of the old Cassie glinting in her eyes. She brandished a dangerous finger right beneath his nose. “Don’t you dare touch me—you don’t have the right. I will not be beguiled again, do you hear? You’re a smooth talker, Jamie MacKenna, and I’ve accepted our friendship for the sake of the family, but that friendship no longer entitles you to the closeness we once shared. We are friends who border on mere acquaintances and nothing more.”

  He knew it was anger speaking, but her words still slashed like the icy wind at the back of his neck, chilling him to the bone. Throat convulsing, he stared, voice low. “Nothing more? We both know that’s a lie,” he whispered hoarsely. “We are dear friends who started to fall in love before we found out it wouldn’t work, that’s all.” He moved in, eyes fused to hers. “I can’t just turn that off, Cassie—you’re important to me, and I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

  She stepped away, arms clutched to her waist. Green fire snapped in eyes that were now guarded. “Don’t worry, MacKenna, it’s not my friendship you’ve lost—it’s my trust.”

  He flinched, remembering how long it had taken him to establish that very trust. He swallowed hard. “I suppose I deserve that, but in my defense, you set the terms.” Feeling awkward, he shoved his hands in his pockets with a shrug of his shoulders, hoping to defuse her temper with a soft tone. “I’m just the poor slob who couldn’t meet them.”

  Some of the anger faded from her eyes as her chin thrust up. “You coul
d have told me before you took advantage in Napa.”

  He huffed out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “I didn’t realize it at the time, I swear.”

  Her grunt confirmed her disbelief. “Oh, really? Just when did this great revelation occur? When you fell out of bed on your head the next day and realized I wasn’t worth the trouble?”

  His head snapped up, the heat in his eyes going head-to-head with hers. “You’re worth the trouble, Miss McClare, make no mistake, or I wouldn’t have attempted to follow your inane rules in the first place.” He vented with a noisy breath while he fixed his gaze on the floor, unwilling for her to see the guilt in his eyes. His voice was harsh. “It occurred when I went home and saw my sister in pain after some blood-sucking lowlife attacked her.” He looked up when her gasp drew his gaze, desperate to salvage their friendship. “I’m sorry, Cass, but I realized then I couldn’t trust some God who’d allow that to happen.”

  She blinked. “Oh, Jamie, I . . . I didn’t know.” A pause. “He didn’t—”

  He shook his head. “No, the slime only had time to slam her to the ground, but he damaged her hip even more.” He hung his head. “She’s been in severe pain ever since.”

  “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

  He sucked in a deep breath, a sliver of guilt gnawing over the half-truth. “Me, too, Cass, because you mean the world to me, truly, but the truth is I can’t give you what you want.”

  She nodded slowly, buffing her arms. His heart wrenched when wounded eyes peeked up. “And that’s the only reason?”

  The innocence of her question gouged at his heart, and he hated himself for the man he’d become. “Yes, that’s the only reason,” he said, the lie almost making him wince. He lifted her chin with his finger, desperate to lighten the mood with a poor attempt at a smile. “No question—term number four is a back-breaker, and I can’t accept it any more than you can accept me without it.” He rubbed her arms. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to overrule it?” He held his breath while he awaited the answer he needed to hear—even if it wasn’t the one he wanted—and when she shook her head, his silent exhale slowly seeped out. “Well then, Miss McClare, I suppose there’s only one issue yet to discuss.” He feathered the stray curls back from the side of her face. “Harper’s not the right man for you, Cass—promise you’ll be careful.”

  Her lip quirked, but the sheen in her eyes remained. “Like I tried with you?”

  Chest constricting, he fished his handkerchief from his pocket to blot at her tears, wishing more than anything things could be different, that poverty didn’t stand in the way of his dream for Jess, for his family, and for himself. “Yes, like you tried with me,” he said, his regret as raw as the sudden bite of the wind. He pressed a soft kiss to her brow, desperate to repress the desire she provoked in order to maintain the friendship they both needed to have. Releasing a weighty sigh, he rested his forehead against hers. “It won’t be easy, Cass, but trust me, we can do this—love each other as good friends who want only the best for the other.”

  “I suppose.” She pulled back, her manner suddenly serious. “But trust?” She shivered. “I’ll be honest, Jamie—my heart’s still pretty bruised, and we lost a lot of ground.” She relinquished a weary sigh. “It’s going to take time.”

  “I know.” He cocooned her in his coat. A bittersweet relief flooded as he closed his eyes, grateful they could still be friends. “But look at it this way,” he said with a note of levity, desperate to chase the gloom away. “I’m far more trustworthy as a friend than a—and I quote—‘pretty-boy polecat’ you’re looking to court, right?”

  He felt her body expand against his as she huffed out a noisy sigh. “One can only hope.”

  A smile tipped his lips at the trace of humor in her tone. He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. “Well, trust me, I am. Just ask Blake or Bram.”

  “Excuse me—Jamie?”

  His head lunged up, blood chilling at the sight of Patricia a few feet away. “Mr. McClare is rounding everyone up for a toast and dessert in fifteen minutes,” she said quietly, her face as expressionless as the chiseled stone columns sheltering the open deck.

  Rooted to the spot, he felt Cassie shiver and immediately stripped off his coat to drape it over her shoulders.

  “No, Jamie,” she said, pushing it away. “I’ll be fine. Go with Patricia—I’ll follow soon.”

  “It’s getting chilly, Cass. You can’t stay up here alone.”

  She nodded toward several couples here and there on the deck. “I’m not alone, and I just need a few minutes by myself, really. I won’t be long, I promise.”

  “Then you’ll take my coat.” His tone was stern as he slipped his jacket over her shoulders again, then bent to envelop her in a tight hug. “I care about you, Cass,” he whispered in her ear, “and your friendship is one of the most precious things in my life. Never forget that, please.”

  ———

  Oh, that I could . . . She pulled away, offering a shaky smile. “Please tell Brad and Uncle Logan I’ll be along soon—in time for the toast, okay?”

  “Certainly.” Patricia’s smile, though stiff, bore none of her usual disdain as she looped her arm through Jamie’s. “Ready, Jamie?”

  “Yes.” His gaze flicked to Cassie. “Not too long, all right?”

  She nodded and watched them leave, heartsick that friendship was the only thing she would ever have with Jamie MacKenna. She turned back toward the sea and crossed her arms on the stone wall, resting her head on top while she closed her eyes to ward off more tears. As crushed as she was, she couldn’t blame Jamie alone. The terms had been hers, not his. She’d known better than falling in love with a man who didn’t share her faith, and yet she’d compromised her convictions under the guise of bringing him closer to God. And in the end, it’d been Jamie himself who had done the right thing—stepped aside to honor her wishes.

  She brushed the wetness from her eyes, face to the sky. “All right, Lord, if this is the way it must be, then I pray to be the friend Jamie needs—and the caliber of friend he’s been to me. I’ll need grace, Lord, and please—please—purge my heart of this longing for more.” With a sniff, she retrieved his handkerchief to dab at her eyes. Expelling a formidable sigh, she turned, body jolting at the sight of Patricia a few feet away. Feeling awkward, she started for the door. “I was just on my way . . . ,” she said quickly, not interested in conversation with Jamie’s date.

  Patricia’s touch iced her to the spot, as chilling as her tone. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

  Cassie turned. “Pardon me?”

  Patricia’s smile was as cool as the night. “That cow-town innocence may work on Jamie, Miss McClare, but it won’t work on me.” She took a step closer, but Cassie refused to budge. “Jamie and I are going to be married, so it’s no use wasting your time trying to lure him back.”

  Anger surged. “How dare you! We are friends and nothing more.”

  Her gaze flicked down and up with disdain. “Yes, I know. But Jamie has a bright political future, and as the woman who will be his wife, I’d rather you not be ‘friends’ at all.”

  His wife. The words may as well have been the back of Patricia’s hand—the effect was the same, sending Cassie’s heart reeling. She fought the spark of tears with a thrust of her chin. “You can’t stop us from being friends, Patricia.”

  “Oh, but I can, Miss McClare,” she said with cool deliberation. “All it takes is the truth.”

  “The ‘truth’ as you call it, Miss Hamilton, is that Jamie and I care about each other a great deal. We have a friendship based on respect, honesty, and deep affection, and I doubt a ring on your finger will ever change that.”

  Patricia smiled, an action that prickled Cassie’s skin more than the biting bluster of the wind. “Yes, I do believe Jamie respects you a great deal, and there’s no doubt his affection for you runs deep . . .” She paused, a sliver of pity in her eyes. “But I�
�m afraid his honesty where you’re concerned, Miss McClare, leaves something to be desired.”

  “I’m leaving,” Cassie whispered, attempting to pass.

  Patricia’s hand cinched her arm like a vice, fingers dug into Jamie’s coat like her claws were dug into the man. “Why? Afraid of the truth?”

  Cassie paused, keeping her temper at bay. “No, not as much as you, apparently.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Miss McClare,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “You see, I know the truth, but I love Jamie anyway. I’m not sure you could say the same.”

  Goose bumps skimmed Cassie’s body despite the warmth of Jamie’s coat.

  “Yes, I know Jamie considered courting you,” Patricia said, “but I also know why he isn’t.”

  The air clotted in Cassie’s lungs, as thick as the pity in Patricia’s tone. “It’s an issue of sharing the same faith, Miss Hamilton, but I fail to see what business that is of yours.”

  “The same faith, yes,” she said smoothly, as if their conversation were no more than exchanging niceties over tea, “and the fact you don’t have the most important thing Jamie MacKenna needs and the one thing he wants more than love.”

  Cassie clenched her fists at her sides, afraid she’d be tempted to smack the smirk off the woman’s face. “And what’s that, Miss Hamilton, your favors?”

  “No, Miss McClare,” she said quietly, her tone actually humble. “My money.”

  Ice slithered through Cassie’s veins, freezing the words to her tongue.

  “Oh, I was worried you had him,” she continued, fidgeting with the cashmere shawl she wore over her lavender dress, “until I discovered your family is broke. When Jamie realized that, I’m afraid there was no decision to be made.”

  Cassie’s lips parted to speak, but the words slowed to a crawl, escaping as a hoarse crack. “I don’t believe you.”

  “No? And when exactly did his affections cool?” she asked, one perfectly manicured brow angled high. “I’ll wager it was after Napa, when I told him you were as poor as he.”