Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (21 page)

She bounded up the steps with a smile. “Got it. Rinse with lots of water, preferably ice cold.”

Cooling himself off with a flap of his shirt, he exhaled loudly when the screen door finally clattered behind her. “Cold,
cold
water,” he mumbled, wishing he had a little ice of his own. “And you can bet your bottom dollar, Miss McClare, that I’ll be doing the same.”

“Cait—wait up!” Logan shook hands with the Budget and Finance Committee supervisor after the Board of Supervisors meeting ended, then strode down the hall with his hat in hand.

“Yes?” She paused half-turned at the door, affection in her eyes despite a manner always cautious whenever he was around.
Good grief, will I ever
win her trust after the debacle in Napa over
that
stolen kiss?

“Congratulations on passage of the addendum to phase one, Madame Chairman,” he said with broad smile. “You twisted every heart in there tonight, including mine.”

Her melodic chuckle floated above the din in the noisy hall, warming his heart. “I suspect I owe the victory more to a bit of arm-twisting from my very powerful brother-in-law rather than heart-twisting from a mere figurehead on the Vigilance Committee.”

He grinned. “Which just proves we’re a formidable team when we join forces, right?”

Her eyes softened as color dusted her cheeks. “Thank you, Logan, for your support in cleaning up the Coast. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for making my dream come true.”

Easy, Cait—
make mine come true . . .

“And Liam’s too,” she whispered, the very name eliciting a hint of the guarded look she always reserved just for Logan.

He cleared his throat, awkward as always when she invoked the name of her deceased husband—the brother he’d lost her to so many years ago. Heat warmed his collar.
Wielding it like
a blasted weapon to keep me away.
“What’s important to you is important to me,” he said, well aware that before he could win Caitlyn’s trust as a man, he’d need to win it first as a friend. He nodded toward the street. “I was hoping I could give you a lift home so we can talk.”

She hesitated, her smile wavering for the briefest of moments. “I’m afraid Hadley’s out front and it is pretty late . . .” Her dark lashes flickered as she peered up. “It can’t wait?”

He forced a casual air, thumb grazing his fedora. “I’d rather not since it concerns Allison.”

Concern marred her beautiful features. “All right, but it’s nothing serious, I hope?”

“Not at all.” He put his hat on and slipped a hand to the back of her waist to usher her outside, making a beeline for where Hadley was parked at the curb. Leaning in the open passenger side, he offered Cait’s driver a smile. “Hadley, I’ll be driving Mrs. McClare home tonight.”

“Very good, sir,” the elderly butler said in his usual proficient manner. He nodded at Caitlyn. “Miss. Good evening to you both.”

“Thank you, Hadley, I’ll be home soon.” Caitlyn gave a halfhearted wave.

Hooking her arm over his, Logan steered her to his black Mercedes Phaeton, fighting a smile over the way she chattered away, so uncustomary for a woman who was comfortable with silence. He’d noticed since Napa how much stiffer she’d been with
his goodbye kisses on the cheek after family dinners or when he guided her to the parlour with a protective hand at the small of her back. She was clearly no longer comfortable being in close proximity, which bothered him, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d learned the hard way you couldn’t rush a woman like Caitlyn McClare, and he had no intention of doing so again. It would be close family ties until he could win her trust as a friend.
Before I can win her heart as my
wife.

“May I?” he asked, indicating the need to lift her up into the high tufted carriage seat, and she gave a short nod, the sudden stiffness of her body making him smile as he hoisted her up with hands to her waist. Fidgeting with her skirt, she settled in with a small purse in her lap while he strolled around and hopped up beside her. Her words about the strides they were making on the Barbary Coast were now edged with a breathless excitement typical when she harbored a passion for something. His smile took a slant as he started the vehicle. The kind of “breathless” passion he hoped to elicit in her one day, God willing . . .

God willing
, indeed . . .
A nerve twitched in his cheek. The same God in which Caitlyn accused him of not believing the night in Napa when she’d turned him away. His jaw firmed. So help him, he’d convince her he was a man of faith if it took every breath in his body, and he’d begun the very next week. A man of carnal appetite all of his life, he now avoided his former dalliances like the very plague that had ravaged the city two years prior. Governed by morality for the first time since he’d entered college, he’d become a homebody—Caitlyn’s home, to be exact—unwilling to be seen with any other woman lest the evidence be splattered across the front page of the society papers. Where once he’d attended mass with the family only on Christmas and Easter, he now met them in Cait’s pew each Sunday, after which he treated them to lunch at
the Palace, his permanent residence when not at his Napa estate. Well aware of Caitlyn’s teetotaler tendencies, even his drinking habits had changed, never imbibing at her home or touching anything harder than wine at dinners out and only one glass at that. No, he’d taken great pains to pursue her with meticulous planning and care, as if she were one of his court cases where life and death hung by a thread. He issued a silent grunt. Because it did—
his
life and
his
thread of hope—for the woman he longed to hold in his arms for the rest of his life.

“Logan?”

He jerked from his thoughts, glancing at Cait as he turned onto Powell. “Yes?”

A ridge popped above her nose. “Are you all right? You seem to be somewhere else . . .”

I am, Cait—in your arms.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry, a lot on my mind.”

“You wanted to talk about Alli?” A passing streetlamp highlighted the delicate rise of her brow while a breeze played with the tendrils of hair at the back of her neck, drawing his gaze.

“Alli, yes,” he said slowly, downshifting as the phaeton slowly chugged up the steep hill. A grin tipped his mouth. “She sure took the wind out of Jamie’s sails with that jiu-jitsu demonstration.”

She laughed, lips settling into a soft smile as she stared over the dash. “Not necessarily a bad thing, the way that boy gloats when he wins.”

A grin eased across his lips, his affection deep for a man who’d become the son he’d always longed for. “He’s a cocky thing, that’s for sure, but one heck of a fine man, I’ll tell you that. He’ll make Cass a wonderful husband.” He quickly jerked the wheel to the left, deftly avoiding an oncoming horse and buggy. The smell of manure rose to his nostrils, obliterating the
familiar scent of fish from the wharf. “But back to Alli,” he said with a sideways glance. “How are she and Barone? Still polite enemies, I hope?”

Head tilted in question, she pursed her lips in thought. “At first, yes, but given way to a polite friendship, I believe, which pleases me. I’d rather they be friends than enemies, Logan.”

“Not with his reputation, Cait. I suspect he’s a womanizer, and a penniless one at that.”

A wrinkle appeared above the bridge of her nose. “And how would you know that? I’ve seen no indication of anything to support that accusation. Did Harmon tell you that?”

His lips went flat. “No, but I can spot a womanizer a mile away, Cait, trust me.”

A smile flickered at the edges of her mouth. “Oh, I see—takes one to know one?”

He peered at her out of the corner of his eye, her jest barbing more than he liked. “Regrettably, yes,” he said quietly, “but that’s part of my unfortunate past, Cait. My family is the most important thing to me now, and you need to know that.”

She averted her gaze to the dash once again. Drawing in a deep breath, she buffed her arms in an antsy avoidance of the truth. “Well, I like him. He seems straightforward and honest.”

He frowned, slowing to let a cable car pass as he approached her street. “So did Roger Luepke, if you recall.” Downshifting, he took the corner and glided up to the curb, turning the engine off with a weary expulsion of air. He angled to face her, jaw tight at the memory of the charlatan he’d introduced Alli to. “Look, Cait, as long as I draw a breath, what happened with Luepke will never happen to any of my nieces again. The last thing I want to hear is that this Barone character is getting cozy with Alli. We know nothing about the man.”

“But Harmon hired him, for goodness’ sake—surely that vouches for his credibility?”

He tossed his fedora on the seat, raking fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture. “As a detective, yes. As a man I can trust with Alli on a more intimate level? Not on your life. Even Harmon knows nothing about him—just that he’s a friend of a friend who called in a favor. When is Mr. Bigley back?”

“Next week. Why?”

“Good. I promised Barone six weeks, which is next week, and quite frankly, if he and Alli are hobnobbing as friends, I’d rather have him out of her life.”

A flicker of alarm flashed in her eyes. “So he . . . won’t be seeing her home anymore?”

He grunted. “Oh, he’ll be seeing her home all right—she just won’t know it.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, two tiny ridges appearing at the bridge of her nose.

“I mean I plan to continue to pay him to be on call—and quite well, I might add—to protect her without her knowledge so she can exercise that independent streak she inherited from her mother.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re a wonderful uncle, Logan,” she whispered, “and a wonderful friend.”

His gaze penetrated hers, causing a dip in her throat. “No, Mrs. McClare,” he said softly, “just a man desperately in love with his family.”

She looked away then, fingers fiddling with the strap of her purse as she quickly changed the subject. “So, how is this going to work with Nick after Mr. Bigley comes back?”

He folded his arms. “That’s where you come in. How often and how late will Alli stay after school, do you know?”

Creases puckered her brow. “Well, she’s put together a fund-raiser play, so if I know Allison, she’ll want to practice two or three nights a week after school for the next month at least. That shouldn’t go any later than four o’clock or so, but I’m certain she’ll find some excuse to dilly-dally well up unto dusk.” A smile softened the lines in her face. “We both know the girl has no sense of time, especially when she’s focused on a task.” She shook her head, the smile on her lips blooming into gentle affection. “Goodness, she gives everything her all, so between that and her stubborn pursuit of perfection, she’d stay at the school until midnight if I let her.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Mmm . . . wonder where she gets it?”

A twinkle lit her eyes in the glow of the streetlamp. “Oh, her uncle Logan, no doubt.”

He grinned. “I doubt that would stand up in a court of law, Mrs. McClare.” Clearing his throat, he forced his attention away from the soft curve of her lips. “As far as Alli goes, that makes it more difficult, but not impossible, although I doubt Barone will like it. But that’s too bad because Harm will give him no choice. So whenever Alli stays late, you’ll simply alert Mrs. Peel and she’ll advise Barone. You’ll need to insist Alli telephones prior to leaving, of course, and then you’ll immediately contact Mrs. Peel. She’ll make sure Barone follows at a distance to ensure she gets home safely.”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, clasping hands together like a little girl privy to a juicy secret. “You’ve thought of everything! Now Alli can be independent and safe at the same time, and she need never know you’ve arranged for a flesh-and-blood guardian angel.”

Logan’s lips slanted as he hopped from the carriage seat and rounded the car. “I doubt Barone qualifies for celestial duty, but the
‘flesh and blood’ aspect is precisely why I want those two apart.” He raised his arms to help her down, fighting a grin at the tug of teeth against her lip while she avoided his gaze. Hands to her waist, he swooped her to the ground, pulse sprinting at the feel of her body against his palms. His release was immediate, as if her very touch had singed, and in a way, he supposed it had. Touching Caitlyn McClare was not a good idea if he hoped to forge a friendship, no matter the attraction that stirred on either side. And, oh, it stirred all right. He felt it in the tension in the air, as thick as the knot that bobbed in her throat when she fidgeted with her skirt. And as warm as the blood pulsing through his veins when he offered his arm.

“No, Logan, really.” She took a step back. “It’s late and there’s no need to walk me in.”

With a firm clasp of her arm over his, he promptly ushered her up the brick steps leading to her Nob Hill Victorian, his tone as decisive as his hold. “Come on, Cait, what do you take me for, a cad? A gentleman always escorts a lady to the door.”

“Yes, but I’m family,” she said with a sideways glance that darted away when it connected with his. “Not one of your many ladies you escort about town.”