Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (11 page)

Rarely had Logan seen Cait more taut. “For sanity’s sake, Allison, tell me this instant!”

“She was approached by two men,” Logan supplied, his tone both gentle and firm. “On the street outside the school, but she managed to fend them off with a hat pin until Miss Penny chased them away.”

What color had been left in Caitlyn’s cheeks swiftly siphoned out as she stared, horror etched in her face. She clutched her daughter’s arms, panic edging her words. “Sweet mother of mercy, were you hurt or . . . or—”

“
Nothing
happened
, Mother, I assure you, other than a few scrapes when I stumbled on the cobblestone street.”

“Good heavens, Allison, you ventured outside after dark?” Cait’s voice rose several octaves. “You know better than that! Why didn’t you wait for the taxi to ring the bell?”

“Because I . . .” Her eyes flitted to Logan’s and back before she lifted her chin the slightest degree. “I decided to take the cable car instead of a cab.”

“What?” Caitlyn shot to her feet, almost teetering as she splayed a hand to her chest.

Allison rose to grip her mother’s arms. “Mother, I’m almost twenty-three years old, for heaven’s sake, a certified educator with a mind of my own. I can take care of myself.”

“Apparently not if you wandered out in a dangerous neighborhood after dark.” Caitlyn’s fingers shook as they fluttered to the hollow of her throat. “Tell me what happened,” she rasped, slowly sinking back onto the sofa while Allison painted a picture of a near-harmless robbery attempt. By the time she finished, the look of horror in Cait’s eyes sparked into anger. “Merciful Providence, Allison, whatever possessed you to take such a risk?”

Logan cleared his throat. “I suspect the same thing that possessed you, Cait,” he said quietly, pinning her with a probing gaze, “when you opened a school on the Barbary Coast against my advice. An independent spirit and a stubborn streak longer than the cable car tracks that brought our girl home.” His smile was wry. “After all, she is your daughter, Mrs. McClare.”

A blush stained Caitlyn’s cheeks as she jutted her chin with the same obstinacy she’d obviously passed on to Alli. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m an adult, charged by God to be the head of this family.”

Allison’s voice was tender as she cupped her mother’s cheek. “Yes, Mother, but you don’t seem to realize I’m an adult too, charged by God to follow my heart, just like you.”

Logan’s chest constricted when tears pooled in Cait’s eyes.

Seizing both the opportunity and her mother’s hands, Allison softened her appeal. “Mother, please—all I’m asking for is the freedom to become the woman you want me to be.”

Logan watched as the same iron strength of character he loved in Caitlyn slowly emerged in her daughter, back straight and shoulders square. “And the woman I need to be,” she said quietly, tears shimmering that matched those of her mother’s. “Especially now.”

———

Caitlyn’s heart fisted as she stared, seeing herself in the thrust of her daughter’s chin, the quiver of her lips . . . the pain in her
eyes. Pain caused by betrayal and deception at the hand of a man she loved, and a pain Caitlyn knew all too well. She had been but seventeen when the fiancé she loved with all of her heart—Logan McClare—betrayed her with another woman and then she, too, had taken immediate action. Breaking the engagement, she had determined to become a teacher and fend for herself, unwilling to trust her heart to a man ever again. But her dearest friend at the time—Logan’s brother Liam—had altered the course of that decision, wooing her with kindness, friendship, and a gentle love that had deepened and ripened over twenty-six years of marriage. She closed her eyes as more tears welled, but these were for the father of her children and the godly spouse she’d lost to an aneurism almost three years ago. A keen sense of loss and loneliness suddenly overwhelmed her.
Oh, Liam, I miss you every day . . .

“Mother, do you understand what I’m saying?” Allison said, and Caitlyn’s eyelids lifted, the blur of her daughter’s face coming into focus despite the tears in her eyes.

She forced a trembling smile, reaching to stroke the worry from Allison’s face. “More than you know, darling,” she whispered, well aware of Logan’s gaze and the regret she’d most likely find there if she dared to glance his way. “And I will respect your wishes, Alli, but only if we can come to terms on ways to keep you safe.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Allison has actually come up with some pretty creative ideas, Cait, and I have lunch planned with Captain Peel on Friday as well, so I planned to solicit his help in finding the temporary watchman you mentioned the other night. I think between an armed off-duty law official on the premises and Allison’s ideas, we can secure her safety.”

“Ideas?” Cait offered Allison a wary look. “What kind of ideas?”

Cheeks flushed with excitement, Allison jumped in before Logan could even respond. “Well, I suggested a firearm—”

“A firearm?” Caitlyn’s voice rose on a squeak.

“But I told her that was out of the question,” Logan said quickly.

Allison scooted to face Caitlyn, looking more like twelve than twenty-two as she tucked a leg beneath her skirt and tied her shawl in a loose knot at her chest. “Then I suggested an even larger stickpin that I could carry in my pocket or pin to a dress or coat. You know, Mother, like that decorative pin you gave me for my birthday with the lovely gold fleur-de-lis head? Goodness, the point on that is as big as a skewer and just as deadly.”

Caitlyn winced at the mental picture.

“Then remember the perfume atomizer bracelet Uncle Logan gave me for Christmas? Well, I promise to wear it at all times, warding off evil with a spray in any attacker’s eyes.”

Caitlyn blinked, stunned at her daughter’s shrewdness with gifts.

“But I’ve saved the best idea for last,” Allison continued with a grin that all but lit up her face. “Remember when Teddy Roosevelt’s secretary was telling us about how the president was learning a new art of self-defense called jiu-jitsu?”

Bracing herself, Caitlyn gave a slow nod.

“Well, I’ve done lots of research, and they say jiu-jitsu moves are so easy and concise that anyone can learn them and guess what?”

Caitlyn worked hard to maintain her serious demeanor, heart swelling with love for this vibrant little girl who was now a woman. “What?” she said, fighting a smile.

Allison all but preened. “Success with jiu-jitsu is not dependent upon size, strength, or speed, which makes it the perfect self-defense mode for both women and children.”

“Is that so?” Caitlyn allowed a hint of a smile, tone cautious. “So you can’t get hurt learning this jiu-jitsu? There’s no danger for the person taking lessons, I hope?”

“Absolutely not,” Allison said, green eyes sparkling more than Caitlyn had seen in a long, long while. She wiggled her brows. “Only for the poor scoundrel who raises my ire.”

Caitlyn’s mouth crooked up. “I’d say that’s three-quarters of the male population these days, darling.” She sucked in a deep draw of air and expelled it again. “Well, it sounds like we need to find someone to teach you jiu-jitsu then, doesn’t it?”

Her daughter’s squeal nearly broke her eardrum when she thrust herself into Caitlyn’s arms. “Oh, Mother, I love you so much!”

“But—” Caitlyn held Allison at bay—“I want your promise you will never walk to the cable car alone or even step foot on the streets in that neighborhood after dusk, is that clear?”

Allison gave an eager nod.

“And if for some reason you do need to work late, you will let me know and we’ll arrange with Mr. Bigley or his replacement to escort you, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Allison said, hands clasped to her chin and a squeal imminent, no doubt.

“Well, then I guess it’s settled. Let’s go to bed.” Giving her daughter a hug, Caitlyn rose and sighed, glancing at Logan with a slant of a smile. “And since you helped with the arm twisting, Mr. McClare,” she said with a pointed gaze, “I think it’s only fitting you round up an instructor who can teach this determined young woman the art of self-defense.”

Logan laughed, the husky sound following them to the door. “Me? Twist
your
arm?” The tease in his tone chided her into turning around. “I’d say it’s the other way around most of the time, Cait, and I’ve got the bruises to prove it.”

Better a bruised arm than
a bruised heart
. She hiked her chin, answering his teasing tone with one of her own. “Be that as it may, I’ll expect information on both a temporary guard and a jiu-jitsu instructor soon or I just may enlist Rosie to inflict a bruise or two.”

“Ouch.” Logan grinned before he reached for his fedora and made his way to the foyer. He pressed a kiss to Alli’s cheek as his eyes converged with Caitlyn’s. “Threat heeded, Mrs. McClare,” he said with a formal bow of his head, humor still twitching on his lips. Strolling to the front door, he shot them a smile while he placed his hand on the knob. “I’ll start the hunt tomorrow and hopefully have everything arranged by next week. So you can keep your bull terrier on a chain, Cait. Good night, ladies.”

“Good night, Uncle Logan,” Allison called, “and thank you for your help.”

Caitlyn’s heart tripped at the look of love in Logan’s face as he watched his niece head up the steps. “For my girls? Always.” His gaze veered to Caitlyn and held, annoying her when it fluttered her stomach. “And I’ll see
you
tomorrow night.” Giving a salute, he opened the door.

“Logan!” Her cheeks warmed when her voice echoed in the marble foyer. “Do you . . . do you think the lessons will work?” she asked, looking for reassurance of Alli’s safety.

His lazy grin sped up her pulse instead of calming it down. “Mark my words, before we’re through, she’ll be able to protect herself from any man alive.”

Any man alive.
Caitlyn swallowed hard and nodded. “Good,” she said with a shaky smile, his handsome face lingering in her thoughts long after he closed the door.
Then
perhaps I should take lessons as well . . .

9

O
kay, that’s it—too rich for my blood. I need to go home and put my humility to bed.” Tossing several dollars on the brass-plated pool table in the billiard room of Caitlyn McClare’s home, Bram Hughes replaced his cue stick in the rack while giving Jamie a wry smile. “Good thing you’re marrying a pool shark like yourself, Mac. Somebody who can hustle
you
, or you wouldn’t get your head through that door.”

Jamie grinned, grateful he could demoralize Bram, Blake, and Logan in pool to make up for the loss of pride when Cassie trounced him on a regular basis in a game in which they both excelled. “Yeah, humility’s not too bad as long as you can maintain your pride with your friends, I always say.” He chalked his cue with a broad smile, gaze honing in on Blake. “You’re next, McClare—payback for beating me in chess the other day.”

“Oh, no you don’t, MacKenna—I may be lousy at pool, but I’m not stupid.” Blake hopped off one of the leather and chrome bar stools he and Logan had dragged over to watch the game. “I’d rather give my money to Duffy at the Blue Moon than line your pockets with a sure win.” Lugging his stool back over to the bar, he snatched his suit coat off the counter and slipped it on. “Anybody up for a nightcap? I’m buying.”

“Count me in.” Bram buttoned his jacket. “I think I’ll nurse my pride with a tall ginger ale.”

Blake adjusted the sleeves of his coat with a wicked grin. “Nurse it? You mean kill it, don’t you, Padre? What you need is a tall, stiff one, my friend. How ’bout you, Uncle Logan—care to join us?”

Logan slid from his stool and began rolling the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt—as casual as he ever got when playing pool with the boys, his perfect four-in-hand tie still in place. “Sorry, Blake—I think I’ll take a shot at the hustler tonight. Not because I’m in the mood for a thrashing, mind you, but because I want to pick his brain about something.”

“Pick his brain?” Blake gave Jamie a wink. “Why? All you’ll find there is puffed pride and hot air.”

Bram chuckled as he strolled for the door. “Yeah, but don’t forget pride goeth before the fall—Jamie’s pride, Logan’s fall.” He shot a grin over his shoulder as he opened the door. “Followed by Jamie’s fall when Logan assigns him the Preston case out of pure spite.”

Strolling over to select a cue, Logan laughed and slapped Jamie on the shoulder. “That’s certainly a consideration, my boy, so you may want to take it easy on your old employer or I just may do that and more.” He tested the weight of the cue with a wink. “Like reassigning Blake’s despised Kilcullen case to you.”

“Hey, I’m all for that,” Blake said, following Bram to the door. He slung an arm over Bram’s shoulder as the two of them stood there grinning. “I’d like to see Pretty Boy handle a woman scorned in the divorce debacle of the year.”

“No thanks.” Jamie smiled and rolled his neck, flexing one hand and then the other. “When it comes to women scorned, your reputation makes you the most qualified, ‘Rake,’ ” he said,
emphasis on the nickname he and Bram “Padre” Hughes had assigned the best friend who tended to womanize.

Blake cuffed Bram’s shoulder. “I guarantee you, Mac, ‘scorn’ never enters in, not with the Padre along to lend a shoulder to cry on for any heartbroken ladies.” He offered a salute. “Break a cue, Uncle Logan—preferably over Mac’s head. G’night, all.”

“Good night, boys—see you tomorrow,” Logan called while chalking his cue.

Grateful for time alone with Logan, Jamie set up once again, rolling the balls until the cluster was nice and tight. When he finished, he twirled the cue in hand, giving his employer a cheeky grin. “Just so I don’t look too eager for the Kilcullen case, boss, how about we forgo the coin toss and I let you have the break?”

Logan chuckled and moved to the head of the table, taking careful aim with his cue. “Wise move, counselor,” he said with a focused squint, apparently sizing up the angle of the shot he wanted to take. Stance casual, he leaned over the end of the table with an open-hand bridge, breaking the balls with a loud crack.

“Holy cow,” Jamie muttered when three balls spun off into pockets so fast, his jaw dropped along with his confidence. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

Humor twinkled in Logan’s eyes. “From your fiancée, Mac, who’s getting tired of being the only one who can put you in your place.” He rechalked his cue and studied the table, obviously assessing his best angle. “Cassie’s been teaching me some of her shots.”

A grin slid across Jamie’s face as he shook his head. “Has she now? Well, then, I’m going to have to have a little talk with your niece, sir, to put an end to these treasonous tendencies of hers. Especially once we’re married.”

Logan chuckled and took another shot, sinking two balls in the
process. “I suspect she’s just looking for ways to keep you humble since you seem to conquer everything you set your mind to.” He peered up from where he stood bent over the table, cue stick in position. “I know you show no mercy in the courtroom, billiard room, and in the boxing ring, Mac, but what do you know about jiu-jitsu?”

Jamie blinked when Logan put away two more balls. He glanced up, eyes in a squint. “Jiu-jitsu? You mean the self-defense technique President Roosevelt’s been touting?”

Logan cocked a hip, both hands resting on the standing cue before him. “Yeah—what do you know about it?”

Scratching the back of his head, Jamie gave it serious thought. “Well, I’ve heard talk of it at the Oly Club, of course, but I don’t really know much about it nor anybody who does. Why?”

Logan finished off the eight in a neat, clean swish and stood up straight. “Because I promised Cait I’d find somebody to teach Allison for extra protection when she works late at the school.”

Releasing a low whistle over Logan’s easy win, Jamie proceeded to dig the balls out of the pockets, making a mental note to speak to his fiancée about teaching trick shots to anybody but him. “Nice game, sir—care to go two out of three?”

“That may be stretching my luck, Mac, but I’ll give it a whirl.”

Jamie racked the balls once again, then stepped aside to let Logan take the winner’s first shot. “What about boxing? Alli hounded me awhile back to teach her to box, so I showed her a few steps, although I didn’t take it too seriously. But if you want me to, I will.”

Another crash of ivory echoed in the room on Logan’s next break, pocketing only two balls this time. “Thanks, I appreciate that, but I’m looking for something where she can defend herself from anyone bigger and stronger should the need arise, and where the element of surprise is a key factor.”

Jamie grinned. “Pardon my saying so, sir, but ‘surprise’ is always a key factor with Alli. She near broke my leg when she hauled off and kicked me in the shin after I refused to teach her any more than I did.”

Bent low over the table, Logan took his next shot, managing to sink another ball. “Yes, she’s a feisty one and a lady you don’t want to cross if you can help it.” He let loose with a noisy sigh as he rose to his full height, kneading the bridge of his nose. “Not unlike her mother, I’m afraid.”

“Or her Texas cousin,” Jamie said with a chuckle, thoughts of Cassie warming his heart. He perched on the corner of the table with cue stick in hand and studied Cassie’s uncle, the man who had become both mentor and friend and whose approval he craved more than any other. Jamie paused to draw in a deep breath, hesitation in his voice. “And speaking of Mrs. McClare, sir, . . . have you . . . given any thought as to when you might tell her?”

Logan glanced up, eyes suddenly intense. “Close the door, Jamie, will you?”

Hopping up, Jamie promptly did as he was told, returning to prop himself on the corner of the table once again, waiting for Logan to speak.

With a heavy exhale, Logan returned to his stool, shoulders slumped and both hands gripped to the vertical cue as it stood slack between his legs. A muscle flickered in the chiseled lines of his cheek, a key indicator just how difficult this subject was for him. “I have, Jamie, and just when I think the time might be right, something derails me—burdens on Cait like a recent incident at the school or Megs leaving in two weeks for a year in Paris.” His shoulders rose and fell with another weighty sigh that suddenly seemed to sap his good mood and energy. “I don’t want to add
to her troubles at a time when she needs my strength, not news that will deplete it, so I’ve just been biding my time.”

“I understand, sir.”

Logan cuffed the back of his neck, his body suddenly sagging as if the weight of his long-held secret would destroy him too. “Of course, she has no idea just how vested I’ve been in various establishments on the Barbary Coast either, which is another fly in the ointment that’s sure to upset her. Especially now that certain members of the Vigilance Committee are pressuring her to escalate the timetable on phase two in the cleanup of the Coast. So timing and favor with Cait is critical right now to forestall any heavy restrictions on taverns that offer gambling like the Blue Moon.”

Jamie’s pulse thudded to a stop. His heart clenched at the thought of anything affecting Logan’s investment in the tavern that provided jobs for Jamie and his mother over the years and where his mother still worked as a cook. “They wouldn’t close Duffy down, would they, sir?”

“Not if Cait sticks to the schedule she convinced me to present to the Board of Supervisors last year, which gives us enough time to go after the primary offenders such as the brothels and dancing halls instead of legitimate businesses like Duffy’s.” Logan slashed fingers through his usually meticulous hair, further evidence of his emotional stress. The man was always cool and controlled in the courtroom and out, his appearance as deadly calm as his words. But not this time. Jamie released a slow, wavering breath. Not when it came to Caitlyn McClare.

Venting with another weary exhale, Logan rose to his feet, meeting Jamie’s gaze dead-on, his love for his family as clear as the gray of his eyes—transparent pools of deep affection and honest regret. “I promise you, Jamie, I will do everything in my
power to protect Duffy and your mother’s job before the truth comes out, but it will come out, you have my word.”

Jamie’s heart swelled with love and respect for the man before him, the man who’d been everything to him since he’d first met him at the Oly Club in college—friend, role model, mentor, teacher, employer . . . and as close to a father as a man could get. His throat thickened with emotion. “I trust you, sir, in any decisions you choose to make.”

A sheen of moisture glimmered in Logan’s eyes for the briefest of moments before he quickly looked away, rechalking his stick with a vengeance. “Thank you, Jamie,” he said in a gruff voice that betrayed the emotion he seldom displayed. “That means the world to me.”

He circled the table to survey his next shot, finally positioning his cue with a hand as steady as his voice, which was now back in control. Slanted low over the far edge, he paused, glancing up to give Jamie a crook of a smile. “
Now . . .
whether I’m lucky enough to ever beat you at pool again or not, if we can just get Mrs. McClare to follow suit on the trust factor?” He cut loose with a shot that hit dead-on, his smile veering toward dry. “I’ll be the luckiest man alive.”