Dare to Love Again

by Julie Lessman

  She tilted her head. “Oh, you know, when I ask about your day and you say it was fine?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  She huffed out a sigh. “Goodness, Nick, you and I should be able to talk about anything, but whenever I get too close to something you don’t want me to know, you tug on your left ear.”

  He stared, eyes gaping along with his mouth. “I do not.”

  She hefted her chin. “You most certainly do.”

  He shook his head and started walking, his long stride leaving her in the dust.

  She scurried to catch up. “And you get grumpy and rude when I tell you the truth.”

  “Rude?” He halted to sear her with a glare while shifting Lottie to the other shoulder.

  Folding her arms, she angled a brow, lips pursed in a schoolmarm manner.

  Air blasted through his teeth before he mauled the bridge of his nose. “Okay, you might have me on grumpy and rude, but I am not afraid of the truth.”

  Eyes softening, she disarmed him with a gentle squeeze of his hand, twining her fingers through his. “Aren’t you?” she whispered. “Like admitting you’re still angry at God?”

  With a grind of his teeth, he wrenched his hand free, fingers flying toward the lobe of his ear before they quickly bypassed to knead the back of his neck. “Blast it, Allison, why do you keep bringing this up? It’s not important to me.”

  Her stomach lurched just like it always did when Nick and Uncle Logan were in the same room. Unbidden, moisture welled. “I know,” she whispered, “but it’s important to me, and therein, the flaw.”

  He flinched as if the truth of her statement made his left earlobe itch. Dropping his gaze, he expelled a weary sigh while his fingers kneaded his temple. “All right,” he whispered, the steam apparently seeped from his ire. “I promise to try”—a knot ducked in his throat near the size of the fist clenched to Lottie’s back—“to talk to God again.” His eyes lifted to hers, and the raw love she saw in their depths twisted her heart. “But only because it’s important to you.”

  She blinked to clear a sheen of tears, lifting her hand to caress the side of his jaw. “It’s important to me, Nick, because it’s important for you,” she said quietly, love swelling for this unlikely captor of her heart. “I long to see you free from that haunting pain I sometimes see in your eyes.” She fisted his waistcoat and tugged him down while lifting on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. “Because I love you, Detective Barone, despite the best efforts of my stick.”

  With an abrupt sweep of his mighty arm, he jerked her close and tucked his chin on top of her head, the sweet warmth of Lottie between them filling her with a contentment unlike any she’d known. “And I, you, Princess.” His voice was a husky rasp as his fingers gently fondled the nape of her neck. “Against my better judgment and all common sense, temper, sticks, and uncles.” He pressed a kiss to her nose before straightening once again. “So . . . what else?”

  With another fold of her arms, she tucked a fist to her mouth, face screwed in thought. “Well, there is one last thing,” she said with a scrunch of her nose, “but I don’t suppose it’s too bad.”

  He cocked a hip, prodding Alli on with an impatient wave of his hand. “And that is . . . ?”

  She nibbled her lip. “You taste like animal crackers,” she confessed, fighting the squirm of a smile. “You know, like I’m kissing Bobby O’Toole.”

  Mr. C.P. popped up with a truly vintage scowl. “And who the devil is Bobby O’Toole?”

  She fluttered her lashes. “Why, the little neighbor boy two houses over, just turned six. Absolutely adores animal crackers, you know.” She looked both ways before leaning in, voice lowered to a loud whisper. “I think he likes me.”

  He grunted, a smile working its way across his lips. “I should have a talk with the boy.”

  “You know, you should—you two have a lot in common.” She sighed. “He threw the most outrageous tantrum last week, right in the middle of the street.” She tilted her head, her smile far away as if recalling a fond memory. “Reminded me of you.”

  A massive shadow loomed before he tugged her in close. “You got something against animal crackers, Princess?” he whispered, gaze fixed on her mouth.

  She gulped, stomach swooping like gulls over the bay. “O-only w-with B-bobby O’Toole.”

  “Good.” He unearthed the half-eaten chocolate bar and offered her a bite before he took one of his own, slipping it back in his pocket. Eyes never leaving hers, he slowly chewed and lifted her to his waist as if she weighed nothing at all. Both her feet and heart dangled as he braced her with one arm while holding Lottie in the other. “How’s this?” he whispered, lips hovering so close, the scent of chocolate on his breath made her dizzy. “I love you, Allison Erin McClare,” he whispered, mouth skimming hers with the utmost tenderness before he deepened his kiss with a soft moan.

  “Hey, I smell chocolate . . .”

  A groggy voice rose between them, and Allison giggled. “You do, do you?” she said, wobbling so much when Nick put her down, that she clung to his arm. “Well, if you ask really nicely, Miss La-di-da, I’ll just bet Mr. Cranky Pants will give you some.”

  “Cranky Pants?” Nick said with a growl, “I’ll show you cranky.” He nipped at Allison’s waist with one hand while tickling Lottie’s stomach with the other, unleashing squeals and laughter from them both.

  “I want chocolate!” Giggling, Lottie did a little jig in Nick’s arms, her chubby legs thumping against his side. “Can I have some, Mr. Nick, please, please?”

  He glanced at the horizon where a pool of fuchsia seeped into the inky waters. “I suppose, but only a bite. Miss Penny will whack me with her stick for ruining your dinner.”

  “Ooooo . . . I hope she lets me do it instead,” Allison said with dance of her brows.

  He grinned. “Me too. I’m in the mood to disarm you with a chocolate kiss or two.”

  Lottie wiggled. “Can I have a chocolate kiss, Mr. Nick?”

  “You bet, La-di-da.” Breaking the chocolate into threes, he handed them each a piece before popping the last in his mouth. With care, he cupped little Lottie’s face in his mammoth hand and gently pressed a sweet peck to her cheek.

  “Mmm . . . you smell good!” she said with a giggle.

  “How ’bout me, Mr. Nick?” Hands clasped to her back, Allison offered a saucy grin.

  He gave her a shuttered gaze that made her mouth go dry. “With pleasure, Miss McClare,” he whispered, dragging her close to graze her mouth with his own. Woozy from the scent of both chocolate and Nick, Allison swayed on her feet, her breathing shallow when he finally pulled away. Eyes smoky, he slowly traced his finger down the line of her jaw. “And I mean that in the truest sense of the word.”

  Lottie gasped. “Are you and Miss Alli gonna get married, Mr. Nick?”

  “Lottie!” Allison’s cheeks pulsed with heat.

  The little girl blinked, brows in a scrunch. “Well, boys usually marry big girls they kiss, don’t they, Miss Alli, and Mr. Nick just kissed you, didn’t he?”

  Nick cradled Allison’s face, his gaze so full of love, she thought she might faint. “I most certainly did, La-di-da, and boys most certainly do.” His voice was a husky whisper that shivered her stomach. “That is, if they’re lucky enough to get the girl to say yes.” He deposited a kiss to the tip of Lottie’s nose. “But this is our secret, La-di-da—yours, mine, and Miss Alli’s, okay?”

  “Okay, but can I have more chocolate?” she asked.

  He laughed, eliciting a giggle when he tickled her waist. “Sorry, sweet pea, but I’m clean out. Besides, that’s enough sweets for tonight, don’t you think?”

  “No!” she said with a thrust of her little chin, a pixie grin curling her sweet lips.

  “Me either,” he said, loosing a squeal of delight from the little dickens when he swung her up on his shoulders. “But something tells me it is, little girl.” He squeezed the tiny legs now braced to his chest. “Both for
you . . .” He gave Alli a wink, grabbing her hand while they climbed up the hill. “And for me.”

  22

  So, Mr. Ga-roan . . . this isn’t so bad, is it?” Alli smiled up at Nick as they spun to a waltz on the dance floor at The Palace Hotel, being in Nick Barone’s arms—and in his heart—the perfect gift for her birthday celebration. Especially since he hadn’t wanted to come, not when he discovered Uncle Logan was paying for dinner and hosting dessert in his Palace suite. But he’d laid his pride aside to come—for her.

  A grin eased across his handsome face as he gave her that languid gaze, the heat in his eyes warming her all the way to her toes. “Not as long as I can look at you instead of the scowl on your uncle’s face,” he said in a husky tone. Whirling her with a heady spin, he leaned close, breath warm against her cheek. “Although I’d pay good money to see it right about . . .” Drawing her closer than the dance allowed, he all but melted her to the spot when his mouth slowly nuzzled her ear. “Now,” he said with a grin as he pulled away, and Allison giggled when she peeked Uncle Logan’s way, his searing gaze as heated as the shivers Nick’s kiss had produced.

  “He’ll come around, you’ll see.” She laid her head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart as comforting as Nick’s attempts to make amends with her uncle over the last month, as stiff as they may have been. Alli’s lips curved in a tender smile. The big lug was as stubborn as Uncle Logan, it seemed, two of the men she loved most in the world, loving her as much as they despised each other. Her eyes drifted closed while her mood drifted toward melancholy. Their disdain for each other was the only flaw in an otherwise perfect month. A month when Nick Barone had not only allowed Allison into his heart, but—after gentle coaxing for him to attend church with her and even pray—was slowly allowing God back in too.

  He laughed, the sound more of a grunt that rumbled her ear as she rested against his muscled chest. “Let’s hope it’s before he takes me for every dime I own. I expect his courier to show up and serve me papers any day now.”

  Allison’s head jerked up. “Oh, he won’t do that, I promise. I’m sure it’s all bluff.”

  The music ended, but Nick held her in place with palms to her waist. “He doesn’t strike me as one to bluff when it comes to protecting the family he loves,” he said with a thin smile, “which I have to admit, is one of the few things I admire about the man.” Thumbs grazing her dress, he bent to brush a kiss to her cheek before tucking his arm through hers to escort her from the floor. “And to be honest, after all the jokers who’ve broken your heart, I don’t blame him.”

  “You looked pretty smooth out there, Detective Barone,” Jamie said when Nick seated Alli into her chair, “for a guy who deals with assault and battery all day long.”

  The edge of Nick’s mouth tipped in a wry grin. “Not the least of which was at the hands of our birthday girl here, wielding a stick.”

  “Always knew she was a smart girl.” Logan raised his glass in a toast to Alli with a nod of his head before his gaze iced Nick. “Or used to be.”

  “Logan, behave,” her mother said with a scolding tap of his arm as she sat beside him at a linen-clad table graced with flowers and candles. “It’s Allison’s birthday, for goodness’ sake, and you don’t always have to be such a bully.”

  “Uncle Logan? Behaving?” Alli wrinkled her nose in a tease meant to diffuse her mother’s gentle rebuke. “Isn’t that an oxymoron, Mother?”

  “So, what exactly is ‘assault and battery’?” Cassie asked, giving Uncle Logan an affectionate wink. “You know, so I recognize it in case we see it tonight?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” Jamie said, tugging her to her feet. He turned to the rest of the table and gave a short bow, his demeanor suddenly formal despite a twinkle in hazel eyes. “Allow me.” He took Cassie into his arms. “Assault, Miss McClare,” he said, eliciting a squeal when he dipped her in dramatic display, “is the threat of an action of one person toward another.” He demonstrated by hovering his lips close to hers, causing her to giggle. “This is assault, Cowgirl—the ‘threat’ of a kiss.”

  Blake lifted his wine in a toast. “And battery, Cass,” he said with a wayward grin, “is when you smack him clean across that pretty mug of his.”

  Jamie gave Blake a mock glare as everyone laughed. “How would you know, McClare? Bram and I had to all but carry you through Old Man Slattery’s Criminal Justice class.”

  “Yes, but he was a crack shot in Professor Tut’s fraud class, as I recall,” Bram said with a chuckle, matching Blake’s toast with his goblet of water. “Posing as a law student, I believe.”

  More laughter circled the table as Jamie cleared his throat. “As I was saying,” he continued, focusing on his fiancée again while he lingered above her lips like before. “That was assault, Sugar Pie, and this . . .” he said with a wayward grin as he dove for her lips, “is battery.”

  Logan shook his head, his good humor obviously restored by Jamie’s antics. “A quick study, that boy, if ever there was.”

  “Well, he’s not the only one . . .” Blake’s gaze locked on two pretty women sitting alone a few tables away. He rose to his feet and adjusted his tie with a grin that spelled trouble. “I feel the need to fine-tune my skills at both bribery and fraud, convincing that young lady over there that I may just be the man of her dreams.” He slapped Bram on the shoulder. “What do you say, old boy—she’s got a friend who looks just as lonely. Heaven knows you need the practice now that Meggie’s not here for you to step on her toes.”

  “You have a point,” Bram said with a tug of his cuffs before rising to push in his chair. “Besides, someone has to warn that poor girl what she’s getting into.”

  “Bless you, Mr. Hughes,” Alli said, popping up to tweak Blake’s neck as he passed. “Women everywhere thank you for your chivalrous protection from the likes of my brother.” She bent to press a kiss to Nick’s cheek. “And you, Mr. Barone, how about a rendezvous on the veranda in ten minutes while Mother, Cass, and I pay a visit to the ladies’ room?”

  Jamie snatched Cassie’s hand. “Oh, no you don’t, Sugar Pie—the music is calling and I’ve got more legal terms to discuss.” He towed her away with a wiggle of brows.

  Caitlyn shook her head. “That boy. Thank goodness the wedding is only three months away.” She offered Logan a smile when he assisted with her chair. “We’ll be back shortly.”

  ———

  “You owe me a dance,” Logan called, watching Cait disappear through the crowd before his gaze narrowed on Nick.

  “Excuse me.” Jaw tight, Nick rose and strode in the direction of the veranda while Logan’s searing gaze followed him out the door.

  Bolting his drink, Logan shoved his chair in hard before making his way to the veranda, determined Nick Barone would not have the chance to ruin Allison’s life. Although he’d done his best to dissuade his niece from becoming involved, she refused to heed his advice, and he hadn’t been able to shake the worry that Barone wasn’t all he appeared to be. His lips compressed. Hopefully now he had the leverage to force Barone to leave Allison alone without wounding her further. The danger of his niece becoming more smitten gnawed at his mind, and with what he’d learned from the detective he’d hired, he knew he had to act fast.

  He pushed through the beveled glass door onto the veranda. The chill of the pungent sea breeze cooled his temper somewhat, steeling his nerves as if he were entering a courtroom to do battle. He scanned the marble terrace, spotting Barone bent over the stone wall in the far shadows, arms crossed as he studied the city below. Bracing himself for a fight, Logan approached, his voice low as he halted ten feet away. “Allison may be blinded by infatuation, Barone, but I assure you, I have no such illusions.”

  Barone slowly rose to his full height, back rigid as he turned to face Logan with a hard-chiseled stare. “Then I’d say it’s lucky I’m courting your niece, Supervisor, instead of you.”

  Logan’s temper itched for release despite his nonchalant
air. “You’re a fraud, Barone,” he said in a calm tone. “I’ve felt it in my bones all along and soon I can prove it.” He strolled forward with a tight smile, indicating an inch of air between forefinger and thumb. “My source is this close to providing an exposé that will show Allison what you truly are, so I’m offering you a final chance to make a clean break.”

  “Not interested,” Nick said, tone curt, but Logan didn’t miss the hard shift of his Adam’s apple as he butted a hip to the wall.

  Instincts sharpening, Logan sauntered over to lean beside him, hands loosely clasped on the balustrade as he peered down at the city. “Yes, well, you may just want to rethink that, Nick, especially when you hear my offer.” He shifted to face him, the muscles in his face sculpted as tight as the marble statue in the fountain a few feet away. “I’ll triple the money you gave back with an added bonus of $5,000 when you leave San Francisco for good. Just give Harmon your notice and a forwarding address.”

  “Keep your money, counselor,” he sneered, pushing off from the wall. “I don’t need it.”

  Logan halted him with a hand. “Well, that’s just it, Nick—you will. Because if you don’t leave, I’ll have your job and any other you think you might be able to get in this city.”

  Nick flung his hand away. “Wealth doesn’t give you the right to control people’s lives.”

  “No, but the truth does.” Logan adjusted his jacket. “Think about it, Nick. The truth will hurt Allison far more than you ending it tonight and leaving town. If you care for her at all—”

  “Blast it—I love her!”

  Logan paused, the intensity in Barone’s eyes convincing him the blackguard might actually have feelings for his niece. He hiked his jaw, a tic in his cheek keeping time with the drum of his pulse. “Then leave her alone, Nick. She doesn’t deserve a man lying to her again.”

  “Nick? Uncle Logan? Is . . . everything all right?”

  He looked up to see Allison standing not ten feet away, face etched with concern. “Fine, sweetheart,” he said easily. “I think Nick and I have arrived at an understanding.”