Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel

by Julie Lessman

  “Cait?”

  Her heart seized mid-sniffle, head jolting up. Logan?

  “What’s wrong?” he said, a fierce edge of concern in his voice and eyes glowing with an intense protectiveness that always made her feel safe. Sitting alongside, he placed a large palm over the hands she now clasped to her knees. “Why are you crying?”

  She shook her head, mortified to be caught in such a pitiful state, cheeks burning from both tears and humiliation over her obvious lack of control. She grappled with the heirloom watch pinned to her dress. “W-what are you d-doing here?” she rasped. “It’s well past eleven . . .”

  His eyes pierced with a look of worry that embarrassed her all the more. “Blake and I came back to play pool awhile ago, but the house was so quiet, I thought everyone was in bed.” He grazed a thumb across her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, Cait—please.”

  “Nothing,” she insisted, her nasal tone branding her a liar. With a frantic sweep of legs to the floor, she hefted her chin in a valiant attempt at composure, arching a brow to turn the tables on him. “Haven’t you ever had a mood where you break down and cry to clear your head?”

  The edge of his mouth crooked as he studied her with tender eyes, head bowed as if comforting Maddie. “Yes, but I usually just take it out on the bag at the gym.”

  Issuing a rare grunt, she dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, well, that’s a luxury I don’t have.”

  “Sure you do,” he said with a hint of jest, voice gentle. He scooped her close as he would any of her daughters, casually resting his head against hers. “I can easily install one in your study or even let you take potshots at me.”

  He gave her arm a tender pat as she’d seen him do hundreds of times with each of her children, and to her horror, a floodtide of water welled in her eyes.

  His words softened to a compassionate whisper. “Why are you hurting, Cait?”

  Heaven help her, that’s all it took for the floodgates to open, and with a ferocious need to be held she didn’t quite understand, she collapsed against him in a fit of painful weeping. Sobs wrenching her body, she clenched his silk waistcoat and promptly drenched it with tears, huddling close when his arms surrounded her with a strength that made her feel sheltered and loved. The familiar scent of lime shaving soap and wood spice both comforted and stirred, but she chose to focus on the need to be held by someone for whom she deeply cared.

  Her eyelids shuddered closed. Even if it’s a brother-in-law who poses a risk to my heart.

  Cocooned in his silent embrace, she wept until her sobs trailed off into frail whimpers that finally slowed and settled into an intimate silence. The steady beat of his heart merged with her own, a beautiful harmony that was oddly comforting. Both the tension in her body and a wispy sigh seeped out with every gentle stroke of his hand to her hair, reminding her just how long it’d been since she’d allowed herself to weep in the arms of another.

  She reveled in the gentle glide of his thumb to her cheek. “Whatever it is, Cait,” he whispered, “you won’t shoulder it alone. I’ll be here for you—always.”

  Emotion swelled in her throat and she nodded, the clean scent of starch and lime and Logan filling her senses with a peace and security she hadn’t expected in the arms of this man. “Thank you,” she said quietly, finally pulling away to dab the handkerchief to her face. Her cheeks immediately heated at the abundance of water stains on the silk of his waistcoat. “Sweet heavens, but I’ve soaked you good,” she said with a nervous chuckle, peeking up with contrition in her gaze. “If you leave it, Logan, I’ll have it cleaned.”

  The faint tilt of his lips clashed with the sobriety in his eyes. “It’s not the vest I’m concerned about, Cait.” With the utmost gentleness, he tucked a loose strand of hair over her ear, the warmth of his fingers lingering far too long for her peace of mind. “What’s wrong?”

  She scooted back to her side of the settee, suddenly feeling quite foolish. Barricading her arms to her waist, she forced a bright smile. “Actually, it’s quite silly—a grown woman making a fool of herself over missing a daughter who’s merely away at school.”

  He settled in to face her, arm draped over the back of the settee. “It’s never silly to make a fool of ourselves over those we love,” he said softly, “only proof of just how deep that love is.”

  She blinked, lips wobbling into a smile. “Why . . . what a beautiful way to look at it, Logan—thank you.”

  His smile was sheepish. “Had to come up with some rationale for mutilating the bag in my gym since Megan boarded that train.”

  Her lips parted in a delighted chuckle, hand to her mouth. “Oh no, you too?”

  “Yep, me too.” He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ve already told you, family is everything to me, just like it is with you. That means if one of us hurts, we all hurt. If one of us leaves, we all grieve the loss.” His mouth quirked. “Of course, some of us opt for more manly ways in which to vent our frustrations.”

  She stared, the tumult of emotions that had prompted her crying jag now welling into a deep affection for the man before her. Overcome with intense gratitude for Logan in her family and life, she reached out without thinking to gently cup the scruff of his jaw, shocked when his late-evening beard quivered her stomach. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you,” she whispered, “just how much joy you bring into our lives.”

  ———

  Logan froze, pulse thudding to a stop at the touch of her hand. Oh, Cait, give me the chance to bring more . . . Her words warmed his heart as much as her lips would warm his body, and he fought the inclination to swallow hard lest he betray the need to love her the way he so longed to do. But if Napa had taught him anything, it was that Caitlyn McClare was the most skittish of fawns waiting to bolt. He dare not risk tenuous months of restoration to a friendship badly damaged by a kiss taken too soon. Battling the impulse to cup the hand she held to his cheek, he offered a calm smile instead, limbs deathly still lest he scare her away. “No, Cait, you haven’t, but my heart rejoices to hear it.” His eyes burned with an intensity he longed to convey through his touch. “Now more than ever—I live to bring my family joy,” he whispered. And none more than you . . .

  Her eyes softened with a tender sheen of moisture as muscles shifted in her throat, and when she leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, his heart seized. Heat ricocheted at the touch of her lips, and the urge to turn his head mere inches and partake of her mouth was so strong, his body shuddered as he forced it away. Clearing his throat, he quickly stood, voice too husky and hoarse. “Up for a game of cribbage?”

  The green eyes blinked. “At this late hour?”

  Glancing at his watch, he grinned and extended his hand. “It’s only eleven on a Saturday night, Mrs. McClare, and if it’s not too late to blubber alone in the conservatory, it’s not too late to get our minds off Meg with a game to lift our spirits. Besides, I think it’s only fair if your son fleeced his uncle in pool, the uncle should at least have a shot at his mother, don’t you think?”

  The most perfect lips he’d ever seen—or kissed—curved in a dubious smile as she took his hand to rise to her feet. “I fail to see how you fleecing me in cribbage will lift my spirits.”

  Bracing her arm firmly with his own, he led her from the room with a low chuckle. “Why, I’ll let you win, of course,” he said, patting her hand. “After that heart-wrenching display of melancholy, Cait, how dare I do anything else?”

  Her laughter warmed him inside and out, the glimmer in her eyes no longer because of her tears. “Ha! Do-or-Die McClare laying his pride aside to let someone else win? Especially his pitiful sister-in-law whom he demoralizes in cribbage each week?” She tilted her head, affording him a patient smile. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Believe it, Cait. Whether you realize it or not, there are some things more important than my pride, the welfare of my family being one. So, yes, to bolster your mood, I may just let you win.”

  “Oh, now it’s �
��may’?”

  “Will let you win,” he emphasized with a playful jag of his brow as he ushered her into the parlour. At cribbage, that is. Seating her in her chair, he settled in his own with a confident air. At the game of love? He reached for the cards to shuffle the deck before offering the cut.

  Not a chance . . .

  Tweeeeeeeeeeet!

  Every eye in the room focused on Alli as she blew her whistle, the cast staring back with goggle eyes and lips chewed in nervous anticipation. A grin inched its way across her lips as she and Cassie exchanged a glance before they bounded to their feet in noisy applause. “Brava, brava, young ladies—that was simply the finest rehearsal Miss Cassie and I have ever seen, bar none.”

  Shrieks and giggles rose from the stage where sixteen young ladies of all ages hopped and hugged in rowdy celebration over the fund-raiser play they’d been rehearsing every day for almost two weeks. “So, we’re almost ready, Miss Alli?” Shannon asked, the whites of her brown eyes as round as the footlights at the front of the stage.

  Alli slid Cassie a wink before lifting her chin with a proud smile. “Almost, Shannon. Another week or so of rehearsals, and this will be one of Hand of Hope School’s finest moments, not to mention raising funds that will allow a day field trip to . . .” She paused, trading another grin with Cassie that conveyed excitement over what was in store for the girls. “Adolph Sutro’s famous Cliff House for lunch, with a tour of its photo gallery, art gallery, and gem exhibit.”

  Both Alli and Cassie winced when the small gym exploded with deafening whoops and whistles and the thunderous clomp of feet on the stage. Laughing, Alli blew her whistle again, reining the girls in. “All right, ladies, it’s time to call it a day, so please collect your wraps and belongings from the classroom and quietly proceed to the front door to head home. Good night!”

  The girls’ goodbyes echoed in the gym as they filed out, and Cassie stretched her arms overhead, a gleam of pride in eyes warm with affection and approval. “Whew, I’ll tell you what, Al, I had my doubts you could succeed in Shakespeare with young girls who’ve never been exposed to the arts, but I gotta hand it to you—they were wonderful.”

  “Aw, thanks, Cass,” Alli said, all but glowing over her cousin’s praise. “But I certainly couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Reaching for her hat that rested beside her on a chair, Cassie put it on with a devious smile. “Or without all that wonderful scenery Mr. Nick built for you, so don’t forget about him.”

  Forget Mr. Nick? A blush scalded Allison’s cheeks as she whirled around to gather her script from the chair. Uh, not likely. Not after the man all but paralyzed her the night he’d walked her home from Chinatown when she thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart had seized the moment his shuttered gaze had fixed on her lips, depriving her body of all oxygen while his fingers casually toyed with the lobe of her ear. And then in a jolt of heat that shimmered her skin, he’d slowly leaned in, coaxing her eyelids closed as if she were drugged while she awaited the touch of his lips against hers. A touch that had branded her forehead instead of her lips, telling her loud and clear Mr. Nick saw her as only a friend.

  A shiver scurried through her—along with a keen sense of disappointment—over how very close she’d come to making a fool of herself over one Nicholas Barone. She slid her papers into her attaché case and quickly slipped her jacket off, thoughts of Nick warming her body as much as his surly moods used to warm her temper. “Goodness, it’s hot as blazes in here,” she groused. “I wish Mother would get that silly radiator fixed before we all melt to death.”

  “Uh . . . Al?” Cassie’s hand lighted on her arm, tugging her back with a questioning gaze. “It’s in the low 50s outside, a record low for August, and it’s downright freezing in here. So why don’t you tell me why your face is as red as sunburn in the middle of a heat wave?”

  “G’night, Miss Alli and Miss Cassie!” Lottie popped her head around the corner until Shannon dragged her away with a final wave.

  “Good night, Miss La-di-da, good night, Shannon,” Alli called, grateful for the distraction from Cassie’s question. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Are you girls ready to go?” Her mother appeared in the doorway, pinning a modest floral hat on her head. “It’s almost six, and Hadley’s waiting.”

  Alli spun around, hand to her chest. “Oh, Mother, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, but I was planning on staying a little late to finish up a few things, if that’s okay.”

  Caitlyn paused, obviously taken by surprise. “Oh.” The lace of her high-collar blouse bobbed, indicating she wasn’t comfortable with the idea, but she’d agreed to give Alli more freedom. “Well . . . I suppose that will be all right,” she said slowly, unable to hide the tension in her tone. “If you promise not to stay too late.” She glanced out the front windows where the late-afternoon sun was streaming in, and drew in a deep breath. “But you only have two hours of sunlight, darling, because there’s no walking to the cable car after dark, remember?”

  “Yes, Mother, and I’ll leave before then, I promise.” Alli hurried over to give her a hug, hoping to reassure that she was perfectly capable of fending for herself. “I have my atomizer bracelet and my hat pin, not to mention a pretty deadly kick, so please don’t worry.”

  A fragile sigh parted from her mother’s lips as she nervously tugged on her kid gloves. Adjusting the short, fitted bolero jacket of her tailored suit, she managed a stiff smile. “Well, we’ll expect you home around 7:30 or so, all right?” Her eyes flicked to Cassie. “I’ll wait for you in the car, dear, while you gather your things.” With a squeeze of Alli’s hand, she turned and made her way down the hall, leaving Alli feeling both guilty and more than a little excited. Breathing in a hefty dose of sea-scented air, she turned to her cousin with a skip in her pulse, hands clasped to her chest. “Can you believe it? My first official venture alone!”

  “I’m thrilled for you, Al, truly,” Cassie said with a wry smile as she sauntered over to where Alli stood. “But you didn’t answer my question.” She folded her arms and angled a brow, the semblance of an “I told you so” smile playing at the edge of her mouth. “I want to know why the mere mention of Mr. Nick’s name set your face on fire a few moments ago?”

  Said “fire” was back, singeing her face like a forest aflame. “W-what do you m-mean?” she whispered, reluctant to admit her true feelings for Nick to herself—much less to the cousin and best friend who longed to see her fall in love.

  Cassie’s smile went flat. “I mean, Allison McClare, you are keeping something from me about Nick Barone—I can feel it. Ever since your last jiu-jitsu lesson two weeks ago, you’ve been in a funk despite the fact you’ve just pulled off an amazing feat with these girls in an incredible play by Shakespeare, no less. She tapped the toe of her shoe on the gymnasium floor. “Something tells me you have feelings for him though you claim to be only friends.”

  Alli suddenly had an overwhelming desire to trim a hangnail with her teeth. “We are j-just friends, Cass, I p-promise,” she said, spitting a sliver of thumbnail out of her mouth.

  “Ah-ha!” Cassie gripped Alli’s arms, giving her a little shake. “You’re fiddling with your nails, a dead giveaway. You’re falling for him, aren’t you, despite all your babble about friendship?”

  Alli stared, her nail now as ragged as her lip, which she seemed to gnaw at the mere mention of Nick Barone. Giving up the ghost of a sigh, she finally gave a short nod.

  “I knew it!” Cassie announced with supreme satisfaction, lifting Alli off the floor in a voracious hug. “All it takes is you two passing in the hall, and I swear the radiator goes tilt.”

  A shaky sigh fluttered from Alli’s lips. “Well, for one of us, anyway.”

  Cassie’s eyes narrowed in a squint. “Oh, come on, Al, I’ve been watching you both for the last month—the man is smitten, and you’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

  Alli plopped back into her chair, gaze lapsing into a bleak st
are. “How about a brotherly kiss on the forehead, Cass—is that convincing enough?”

  “Nope.” Cassie dropped into the next chair, angling to face her. “I’ve seen the way Nick looks at you when he thinks no one is looking, and trust me, it’s anything but brotherly.”

  Alli grunted. “Maybe, but even if you discount the kiss on the forehead, he admitted he’s angry at God over some pretty awful things in his life.” She expelled a mournful sigh, heart heavy over the pain of Nick’s past. “He’s an orphan, Cass, with no family of his own.” She swallowed hard. “Lost his gram to cancer and then his uncle was murdered.”

  “Oh, Al . . .” Cassie gripped Alli’s hand, the disbelief in her eyes tinged with tears.

  Alli exhaled slowly, the motion all but draining her. “Suddenly it makes a whole lot of sense why Nick seems so angry at times, and I’ll be honest, Cass—I almost don’t blame him.”

  “Me either,” Cassie whispered. “But you and I both know from painful experience that anger and bitterness will only rob a person of God’s blessings, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Which means Nick is in dire need of someone who can show him how to forgive so God can heal his heart.” She lifted a hand to gently stroke her cousin’s cheek, love welling in her eyes. “And other than Jamie, few have learned that lesson better than you with all the hurt you’ve experienced with heartbreak.”

  “I know.” Alli stared at the floor, her voice a frail whisper. “I tried to talk to him about God and forgiveness when he walked me home from Chinatown, but he didn’t seem interested.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. So, we let God do the legwork instead.” Cassie ducked to give her a smile. “With prayer.”