Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (35 page)

With a gruff clear of his throat, he quickly rose. “No explanation necessary, Cait—I totally understand.” Ruddy color bled up his neck as he adjusted the sleeves of his suit coat, his manner stiff. “I have an early train tomorrow for that weeklong conference in L.A. I told you about, so I best be going, but I’ll see you when I get back.”

He bent to give her his customary kiss on the cheek and she halted him with a hand to his arm. “No, you misunderstand me,” she whispered, heart battering her rib cage as she skimmed her fingers along his jaw. “What I started to say was . . . I ‘can’t’ thank you enough for all you do for us, but I’d seriously like to try.” And with a hard swallow, she lifted to gently brush her lips against his, pulse surging at his sharp intake of air.

“Cait . . .” His voice was a strangled rasp as he searched her face, a glimmer of hope invading the clear, gray depths of his eyes. She heard his shallow breathing as he stared, Adam’s apple ducking hard. “Don’t do this to me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “not unless you’re ready to take it somewhere.”

She paused to scan his handsome face—more weathered and mature than when he’d first wooed and won her years ago, but the pull of attraction as strong as ever. An attraction emanating from eyes that seemed to be a window to his soul, revealing a depth of love and desire that made the tendons go slack at the back of her
knees. Never would she have believed she could ever trust her heart to Logan again, and yet here she stood—on the threshold of doing just that, albeit tentatively so. But she wanted to. Oh, Lord, help her—how she wanted to! “To take it somewhere” where she could not only trust Logan as a man who cherished and protected her children, but trust him as a husband who would cherish and protect her as well. To be faithful and true to both her and to God all the days of their lives.

Her chest rose and fell with a shuddering breath as she made her decision, and with a skip of her pulse she cupped his bristled jaw with a shaky hand. “If God is an important part of your life now as you’ve led me to believe . . .” A muscle shifted in her throat. “Then I think maybe . . . just maybe . . . I’m ready to become an important part too.”

A low groan rumbled from his throat as he scooped her up in a powerful embrace. “Oh, Cait, ” he whispered, his breath warm in her ear, “marry me now—
tomorrow
—and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it.”

Breathless, she managed to pull away, determined to take it slowly. “Dear, sweet Logan . . .” Her lips curved in a tender smile. “As tempting as that sounds, I think it best if we took this one day at a time, don’t you? Especially in light of Alli’s heartbreak.”

He exhaled slowly. “Agreed,” he whispered, the gentle touch of his lips to her forehead causing her eyes to drift closed. Her stomach quivered when his mouth caressed each eyelid with the softest of kisses before grazing their way to her temple. “Besides,” she whispered, her breathing as uneven as his, “I rather like the idea of courtship, Mr. McClare, just to make sure.”

“Whatever you say, Cait.” Heat skimmed her body when his mouth skimmed her cheek to nuzzle her lips. “But a little mercy, Mrs. McClare, please, in not making the wait too long.”

“Excuse me, miss.”

Caitlyn jerked from Logan’s arms, heat engulfing her cheeks as Hadley stood staunch at the door. Never had she been more grateful for her beloved butler’s disdain for the eyeglasses he seemed prone not to wear. “Mr. Andrew Turner to see you, miss.”

“What’s he want?” Logan snapped, his mood suddenly as heated as the blood in Caitlyn’s cheeks.

“Thank you, Hadley,” she called in a volume loud enough for the butler to hear. “Would you mind showing him to the study for me, please?”

Hadley gave a short bow with a click of heels. “Very good, miss.”

“Blast it, Cait—if you and I are courting, I’d rather not have that letch around.”

Caitlyn bit back a smile, Logan’s jealousy over his ex–best friend surfacing once again. And with good reason, she supposed, given Andrew’s persistence in asking her out, a persistence that had actually softened her stance toward him. Over the months they’d worked together, she’d begun to enjoy his company in a greater capacity, even playfully responding to his flirtations at times. And then weeks ago, he’d told her of his feelings, begging her to consider more.

“Promise you’ll pray about it,” he’d asked at the door after one of their many project meetings, which she took great pains to schedule on nights when Logan was not around. “You and I make a good team, Cait,” he’d whispered, moving so close that her pulse had sped up. “We share a vision, a deep faith, and I pray that bodes well for sharing a life together as well.”

“Pardon me?” Swallowing her shock, she attempted a step back, speechless when he’d stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“I’m falling in love with you, Cait, and I want to court you.”

“Andrew, I . . .” She gulped. “I . . . I can’t . . .”

He paused, his disappointment palpable. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

Her brain scrambled for an answer that wouldn’t offend. “Because, I’m quite content with my life as it is. My family is everything to me, you see, and I want for nothing more.”

He studied her with a keen eye, as if to decipher the truth of her statement before his mouth compressed in a thin line, a hint of hurt in his eyes. “It’s because of Logan, isn’t it?”

“Of course not,” she said too quickly, ever in denial of her burgeoning affection for Logan McClare. “But you and he are not on the best of terms, Andrew, and I refuse to jeopardize that relationship further.”

He gently gripped her arms, a plea in his tone. “Please . . . don’t let Logan stand in the way of something God may have for us, Cait. At least promise you’ll pray about it, all right?”

And so she had, and with all of her heart believed the answer was standing before her this very moment, scowling in that adorable crotchety way he had whenever Andrew’s name came up. A smile curved on her lips as she reassured him with a gentle kiss. “I’ll make it a short meeting, I promise, and perfectly clear that all future project discussions will be held at Walter’s with him and other board members present, all right?”

Logan grunted and hooked her close. “I’d rather you kick him off the board, but since that isn’t likely . . .” He bent to fondle the lobe of her ear with his mouth, tumbling her stomach when his lips slowly trailed to hers. “So, I’ll just stake my claim before I leave.” Cradling the back of her head with a firm hold, he consumed her with a kiss that all but melted her bones to the floor. Her breath caught as he skimmed the curve of her jaw to nip at the lobe of her ear before sinking to wander her throat, whispering his love
against her skin. The warmth of his words coaxed a weak moan from her lips, adrift on raspy air. When he finally released her, the heat in his eyes matched that pulsing her body. “Kick him out, Cait—please? Then we’ll continue this discussion when I get back.” He deposited a kiss to her nose before striding to the door, turning to give her a shuttered gaze that made her mouth go dry. “I want you to forget about Turner, and the sooner, the better.” He gave her a wink. “But don’t you dare forget about the man whose heart you hold in the palm of your hand.”

She blinked and he was gone, leaving her standing there with flushed cheeks and trembling limbs, mind racing and pulse even worse.

Forget the man whose heart she held in the palm of her hand? Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed a shaky hand to her chest with a quiver of a smile.
Good
heavens . . . Andrew who?

27

T
he grandfather clock in the parlour chimed midnight as Alli lumbered up from her bed, pillow soggy and cold, and her heart even worse. Chilled to the bone, she donned her robe and slippers, then pulled a fresh handkerchief from her drawer to replace the sodden one. Dabbing her eyes, she made her way to the door in search of the laudanum Rosie now kept on the top shelf of the pantry. Oh, how she prayed it would cure this horrific headache and lure her to sleep where she wouldn’t have to think about Nick.

Nick
.
Mr. Nick. Detective Ga-roan. Mr. Cranky Pants. Mr. Pinhead.

And,
apparently, Mr. Liar and Thief—the man who’d stolen her heart and so much more.

Her hope . . . her joy . . . her faith.

Opening her bedroom door, she padded down the hall and stopped, the light bleeding beneath her mother’s door giving her pause. A sudden longing for the comfort of her mother’s arms swelled in her chest like saltwater swelled in her eyes, and swabbing her face with the handkerchief, she darted down the hall to her room, hand poised, ready to knock.

A muffled sob leaked through the door, and Alli froze, fear
icing her skin.
Mother?
With two sharp taps, she eased the door open, stomach fisting when she saw her weeping on the bed. “Oh, Mother!”

“Allison?” Her mother jolted up, voice nasal as she quickly blotted a handkerchief to her eyes. “What are you doing up—are you having trouble sleeping?”

Alli rushed to hug her, snuggling into the familiar scent of Pear’s soap and lavender. “Yes, Mother, I am, but what I want to know is why
you’re
crying.”

Ever the nurturer, Caitlyn McClare swept the covers aside to allow her in, then bundled them both back up and tucked her head to Alli’s. “Oh . . . just a slight altercation with Andrew Turner,” she said slowly, a thread of pain in her tone that Alli didn’t miss. A levity that seemed a bit forced worked its way into her voice. “And an unhealthy dose of the change of life creeping in, I suppose, given how weepy I’ve been of late.” She hesitated, hand gentle as she stroked Alli’s hair. “I’m so very sorry about Nick, darling, and I grieve over your loss.”

At mention of Nick’s name, tears instantly stung. “I love him so much that I can’t even imagine he did all those awful things.” She peered into her mother’s eyes, fear contorting her features. “How can that be? How can I have fallen for someone who deceived me so completely—not just once, but four times?” Her body convulsed in a sob as she collapsed in her mother’s arms, heaves shuddering her words. “How will I ever be happy if I can’t trust myself to fall in love with the right man?”

Her mother’s voice was soft and low as she soothed Alli’s back with a gentle massage. “I think, Alli, the answer may be . . . by
not
trusting yourself to fall in love with the right man, but trusting God instead.”

“But that’s just it!” Alli clutched her mother’s arms to hold her
at bay. “I
did
pray about Nick—over and over—with Cassie and on my own, but God let me down.”

Sorrow etched her mother’s face as she caressed Alli’s jaw, voice bleeding with empathy. “No, darling, life lets us down, with all its sin and sorrow at the hands of humanity, not a loving God who died to redeem us from it all.” She pulled Alli close, cheek pressed to her daughter’s as she whispered a Scripture Alli had heard from her lips many a time before. “ ‘In the world ye shall have tribulation,’ He told us, ‘but be of good cheer for I have overcome the world.’ ” She lifted Alli’s chin, gaze tender. “He’s overcome it, Alli, so that we can overcome it too, and you will.” Her lips trembled into a sad smile. “As will I—the two of us together.”

Alli swiped at her eyes, brows in a bunch. “What do you mean, Mother? Are you talking about your heartbreak over Father? Over losing him?”

———

Yes, darling . . . and over his brother.
Caitlyn stared at her daughter, almost grateful she could share Alli’s grief in a tangible way, like she had with Cassie a year ago when Jamie had broken her niece’s heart and her trust. Her eyes drifted closed.
Just
like Logan had broken mine
. A shiver skittered her spine.
And now he’s done it again . . .

“I’m sorry, Andrew, but the truth is Logan and I have decided to court . . .”

The shock in Andrew’s eyes earlier tonight had calcified. “The truth? Really, Cait—and you have no qualms about marrying a man who doesn’t have a clue what that is?”

The truth.
The one thing she craved more than anything to shore up her trust in Logan McClare . . . and the one thing he couldn’t seem to give.

“Open your eyes, Cait,” Andrew had whispered. “Jamie MacKenna is Logan’s son.”

She hadn’t moved . . . breathed . . . blinked for several heartbeats, and then with a ragged rush of air, she’d listed to the side, hand to her eyes to hide a new tide of tears. A fresh wound over Logan’s betrayal those many years ago.
In the flesh.
A betrayal all the more grievous given his sworn defense no intimacies had been involved.

“It was just an innocent flirtation, Cait, I swear,” he’d told her at the time, “a minor indiscretion and nothing more.”

No, not innocent, Logan—a deep-seated character flaw
that will always stand in our way.

“Mother? Please—tell me what’s wrong.”

Caitlyn’s eyes snapped open, Allison’s frantic words shaking her from her painful reverie. Love compelled her to smile despite the excruciating ache in her heart and the tears in her eyes. “Nothing, darling, truly, that God can’t overcome if we let Him.” Desperate to hide her pain and deflect her daughter’s concern, Caitlyn fluffed the pillows and lay back, drawing Allison to rest her head on her chest. “You can do this with His help, my love,” she whispered, her voice strong and sure as she stroked her daughter’s hair, her words shoring up her own spirit as well. “You can reap blessing from this betrayal of the heart and be set free at the same time.”

“How?” Allison’s voice quivered, frail and scared like when she’d dream of monsters in the attic as a little girl. “I love him, Mother, but I worry that my love will harden into bitterness and hate and fear before I can be set free.”

Caitlyn’s eyes blurred, the muscles in her throat constricting at the harsh reality of her daughter’s statement. She now battled her own shock and bitterness over Logan’s betrayal in lying about his son, and possibly Jamie’s as well, denying her a truth she had
every right to know, as did the family. Body numb, her mind still reeled from his deception. A deception that had slashed not only her heart, but any trust she might have developed for Logan despite the deep love that she bore, bleeding scarlet though it be. Eyes drifting closed, she knew that very love could harden and imprison her as well, and fighting a painful shudder, she held her daughter close, her whisper strong for all their frailty of heart. “ ‘I hold that love, where present, cannot possibly be content with remaining always the same.’ ”

Allison peered up. “I don’t understand, Mother—what does that mean?”

Caitlyn drew in a deep breath. “The words of Teresa of Avila, darling, a very wise woman with a true passion for God. It means, Allison, that true love—the unconditional kind God has called each of us to through His Son—must flourish. Whether it is met with joy or pain, it must grow and ripen into
His
love,the only kind of love that will ever satisfy.” Her eyes lapsed into a faraway stare, fully aware that her love for Logan—her attraction to this man who haunted her soul—must transcend her own hurts and desires to achieve God’s. A wispy sigh trailed from her lips. “The only kind of love that will change us for the better. Which means, darling girl,” she palmed Alli’s face with a tender smile,“that even this—a heartbreak so agonizing that it has stolen all peace and joy from your soul—God can use for your good . . . and Nick’s.”

Allison blinked, eyes glossy as she stared at her mother, echoing back to Caitlyn the very words she’d spoken to her children so many times. “ ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God . . .’ ”

Caitlyn swallowed hard, water slipping from her eyes. “Precisely.”

Allison shook her head, her body shivering with the motion.
“I don’t know, Mother, I have no idea how God can bring good from something so painful.”

“No, but I do. Because I’ve done it before and I will do it again, only this time we’ll do it together.” Caitlyn sat up against the headboard, prompting Allison to follow. She looped an arm to her daughter’s waist, tugging her close. “We’re going to use this very love that has wounded us so deeply to heal our hearts and those of the men over whom we grieve. And it all begins with one of God’s most powerful precepts—‘to pray for them which despitefully use you.’ We’ll pray for God to bless them, heal them, and bring them to Him. Then we’ll pray for God’s grace and strength to forgive and love them as He does—unconditionally—expecting nothing in return except to see the touch of God in their lives.”

“We?” Allison took her mother’s hand in hers, brows tented in concern. “I don’t understand, Mother—why would you need to forgive Daddy? He didn’t mean to die.”

Caitlyn felt the chill of a single tear as it slithered her cheek, bleeding from her eye like her joy was bleeding from her heart. “No, not Daddy.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand, her smile bittersweet at best. “His brother,” she whispered. “Your uncle Logan.”

Nick paid the carriage driver double fare, scarcely aware of the man’s effusive thanks. His gaze lifted to the stone mansion before him—a house as cold and deceptive as the woman who resided within, the fiancée he’d deserted after she sold her soul to the devil.

“You’re crazy,” DeLuca had railed. “They’ll gun you down before we even pull the trigger.”

Not if I pull first.
Nick’s jaw compressed as he slowly mounted the steps to the carved wooden door, its arched entryway a focal
point for the columned veranda where he’d once proposed to Darla Montesino. The rage carefully hidden for the last year pumped anew for the woman who’d made him bleed with her betrayal. He tugged at the collar of his camelhair coat, palm casually sliding his chest to feel the holstered Smith & Wesson. Well, now it was her turn to bleed—along with Lucifer’s second. The family friend Nick had known nothing about.

Aiden Maloney.

Acid gurgled in Nick’s gut along with two boxes of animal crackers that had no effect whatsoever on the hate that churned inside. Finger pressed to the brass doorbell, he waited, sweat slicking his hands while he adjusted the sleeves of the sack suit beneath his coat, where a Remington 1866 Derringer was also stowed, ready to extract revenge. The seconds ticked by like eons while memories flashed in a blur—Mom and Pop chatting with customers during happier days while Nick stacked the shelves with his buddies, the promise of penny candy watering their mouths. Or the twinkle in pretty Emmaline Heimann’s eye as she worked with Mom behind the counter, her shy looks always directed his way. Weekends spent at his uncle’s Edgewater estate, swimming, canoeing, building sand castles on the beach. Wonderful memories, all snuffed out by a fire and a Colt .45. Nick’s eyes burned with vindication long overdue as the door opened wide, the woman he’d loved welcoming him home with open arms.