Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (26 page)

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 stare. “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.”

Alli glanced up, Cassie’s faith spurring her own. “You think?”

“I know, and so do you. And before God’s through, Nick Barone will know it too.”

Alli’s chest expanded and contracted with a wavering sigh. “Oh, I hope so,” she breathed, her spirits lifting that God might actually have something in store for her with Nicholas Barone.

Cassie chuckled as she gave Alli a tight hug. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause ‘hope’ is definitely one part of the equation.” She peered over Alli’s shoulder at the clock on the wall. “Gotta run before Aunt Cait leaves without me, but we’ll pray when you get home, okay?”

“Wait—you said ‘one part’? What’s the rest of the equation?” Alli pulled back, forehead in a bunch.

“Why, the perfect equation, of course,” Cassie said with a wiggle of brows. “Faith, hope, and love. You know—a whole lot of our faith mixed with a whole lot of your hope? And before we know it . . . ,” she winked, “we may have something that looks like a whole lot of love.”

20

N
ick popped an animal cracker in his mouth while he waited in the bushes, wondering what in blazes a woman could do in an empty school all by herself that she couldn’t do at home. He glanced at his watch, then squinted down Jackson. The glow of dusk was beginning to wash the ramshackle buildings with a surreal glow that made the Barbary Coast almost pretty. A grunt escaped as he pelted more crackers to the back of his throat. Yeah, it was pretty all right—pretty ugly, with all that went on after dark. His eyes flicked to the sliver of light that bled through the curtains at the front of the school, and he huffed out a noisy blast of air. She better wrap it up soon because she was running out of daylight and
he
was running out of patience.

“Allison’s fixing to leave soon,” Miss Penny informed him over twenty minutes ago after Mrs. McClare alerted them Alli had called regarding her imminent departure. Per orders from the
supervisor
, Nick would follow the independent Miss McClare all the way home without her knowledge, which meant more blasted time on that infernal cable car. The edge of his mouth tipped in a reluctant smile. At least it only entailed a bout of nausea instead of a pain in the neck too, which Allison had suddenly ceased to be. No, now the pain in his neck had traveled south to produce a dull ache in his chest over the realization their time together was
over. He hadn’t seen her—really seen her—in two weeks, other than the rare times they’d run into each other when she walked Lottie home or the nights like tonight when she stayed late. Nothing more than a short hello and goodbye or the back of her head when he needed to follow her home, and it annoyed him just how much he missed her. But the simple truth was, Allison McClare was now where he needed her to be—nothing more than a girl from his past, and one he needed to forget.

Soon
.

Tossing the remains of the animal crackers in his mouth, he crushed the Barnum’s box and dropped it in the pocket of his sack suit, figuring he’d need the whole bloomin’ box to settle his stomach for the cable car. He checked his watch for the twentieth time and scowled.

What the devil is she doing, anyway?
Expelling a noisy breath, he moved with the stealth of a shadow from Miss Penny’s lawn to that of the school, mounting the pristine white steps with the utmost care. Pausing at the top, he listened, head cocked to catch any sound that he could.

Nothing.
No footsteps, no floor squeaks, no humming. The windows were obviously closed, but even so . . . Unease skittered his spine like rats skittered the alleys of the Coast, and hands cupped to the window, he peered through the crack in the curtains. Suddenly words he hadn’t uttered since the war ground from his lips, eyes gaping as Allison McClare wobbled on the top rung of a ladder. Nick would have sworn she was swaying as she attempted to paint scenery—the red roof of a house facade Mr. Bigley was supposed to finish—with a paintbrush taped to the end of that confounded stick.

So help me, Allison . . .
Biting back another colorful complaint, he quietly made his way to the front door, silence essential so he wouldn’t scare the brat half to death and risk her toppling from
the ladder. Pulse hammering, he attempted to unlock the front door with the key Mrs. McClare had given him, incensed all the more to find it unlocked. “Blue blistering blazes,” he muttered under his breath, easing the door open with nary a sound before silently stealing into the gym. One glance at the stretch of her lithe and curvy form confirmed proximity to Allison McClare was not a good thing. At least, not anymore. Not since the little brat had crept into his heart with her spunk and sass and passion for life, a passion that included a devotion to God he’d missed more than he realized. Apparently too focused while she hummed quietly to herself, she never even heard his approach, and releasing a silent sigh, he slowly mounted the steps to the stage. Halting twenty feet away, he prayed he was close enough to catch her if she were to fall. “Alli,” he whispered, hoping the soft sound of his voice would gently draw her attention.

The humming and painting happily continued, confirming once again that this woman lived in a world all her own. Nick’s lips went flat. A world in which he was becoming entirely too comfortable. “Alli,” he said again, his whisper edged with annoyance this time.

“Oh!” Jerking straight up, she whirled around at the waist, body and ladder teetering so hard the paint bucket went flying, hitting the paint-stained sheet beneath her with a clunk and a splat. Nick’s heart climbed in his throat when the woman herself flailed in the air as if in slow motion, limbs thrashing along with that infernal stick.

Pulse in a sprint, he sprang forward with instinct and speed honed to near perfection in jiu-jitsu, heart crashing into his stomach while Allison crashed into his arms. With a harsh catch of his breath, shock gave way to temper at the risks that she took. “What is it with you and heights, anyway?” he snapped. “You trying to break your silly neck?” Rib cage heaving, he glared, waiting for the tongue-lashing that never came.

“Oh, Nick!” Hand quivering, she gently stroked his cheek. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He swallowed hard, the love in her eyes draining his temper along with his resistance, making the desire to kiss her more potent than all the bottles of booze peddled mere blocks away. Unable to control the impulse, he turned his lips toward her palm, eyelids shuttering closed when he captured her fingers with the caress of his mouth. Heat skimmed his body at the sound of her soft gasp and never had he craved a woman’s lips more.

“Do I have your word you
won’t make advances to my niece?”

He opened his eyes to a beautiful face aglow with an innocent awe while she traced the contour of his mouth with quivering fingers, the longing in her gaze as obvious as his own.

The knot of his four-in-hand tie bobbed when he carefully set her down on the paint-splotched sheet, removing his hands from her person with a fierce stab of regret. “I’ve missed you too,” he said quietly, his voice huskier than intended.

Hope glowed in her eyes when she moved in close, fidgeting with her nails as she peeked up beneath a sweep of dark lashes. “Nick, I . . . know this isn’t conventional, but then I’m not a conventional woman . . .”

His lips curved in the barest of smiles. “I’d say that’s an understatement, Miss McClare.”

Her smile softened with that little-girl look of wonder when something surprised or delighted her. With a shuddery breath, she moved in to lay her head to his chest, tentative arms circling his waist. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Nick,” she whispered, “so I need to know—do you have any feelings like that for me?”

No!
His pulse slammed to a stop while his eyes weighted closed, icy shivers of shock rooting him to the floor when he realized he was lying. In one ragged beat of his heart, the truth struck
hard—he was falling in love with her too. As if possessing a mind of their own, his arms drew her close while he nestled his head against hers, breathing in her scent for what he knew would be the very last time. “Yes,” he whispered, weaving his fingers into the silky tresses pinned at the back of her head, “but it doesn’t matter, Alli, because we can’t do this.”

She pulled back. “Can’t fall in love? Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

He feathered her jaw with his thumb, his smile sad. “I do, but I can’t act on it.”

“But why?” she whispered, her voice as fragile as the innocence in her eyes.

Easing from her hold, he stepped back to bury his hands in his pockets, fixing her with a look that was riddled with regret. “Because I can’t kiss you or love you the way that I want.”

She shook her head, confusion furrowing her brow. “But I don’t understand—why?”

His jaw automatically hardened. “Because I gave my word.”

She blinked, a large blotch of white paint caressing her cheek like he longed to do. “Your word? To whom?”

“Your uncle,” he said with a tight press of his lips.

The whites of her eyes nearly expanded to the size of the smudge. “What? When?”

He exhaled. “When he hired me to fill in for Mr. Bigley and to teach you jiu-jitsu.” His mouth took a slant. “Even made me sign a contract.”

Those lush, dark lashes twitched several times as if she were trying to comprehend. “A contract?” she whispered. “To do what—not fall in love with me?”

His gaze flitted to her mouth and back and he absently licked lips now as parched as his throat. “No. To not make advances.”

Two beautiful brows bunched in a frown as comprehension slowly dawned in her eyes. “So . . . you’re saying you can’t
legally
kiss me?”

His chest rose and fell with an expulsion of air. “Afraid not.”

Nibbling the edge of her lip, she tilted her head, brows sloped in question. “But you . . . you think you might . . . want to?” Her question was soft, tentative . . . as if afraid he’d say no.

He issued a grunt, gaze hot as it settled on her mouth. “Oh, yeah, I definitely want to.”

“Really?” An impish smile inched across her face as she chewed on the tip of her thumbnail. With a shy grate of her lip, she grabbed his hand and tugged him to the ladder.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not trusting the pixie glint in her eyes.

Ignoring his question, she placed one dainty shoe to the first rung and hiked herself up, turning to curl her arms to his waist. “What am I doing?” she asked, brows arched in her most professional teacher mode. “I just told you I’m falling in love with you, Nick Barone, and you indicated you’re doing the same, which means we seal our declaration with a kiss.”

He scowled, willpower stretched as thin as his nerves. “I told you—I can’t kiss you, Allison.”

“No . . . but
I
can.” A giggle tumbled out that sounded like trouble before she stood on tiptoe to warm his lips with her own.

Body pulsing, heat rolled through him while he stood there inert, his breathing as ragged as hers when he finally had the strength to nudge her away. “Alli, please, you’re killing me here . . .”

Tease gleamed in her gaze like mischief gleamed on her lips, still moist from the taste of their kiss. “Oh, don’t be a baby,” she whispered, as if he were balking on that first step of the cable car. “Because your name may be on that contract, Mr. Ga-roan . . .”
She brushed her lips against his, her giggle soft when she pulled away to give him a wink. “But
mine
isn’t.”

“Can I help you?”

Nick eyed the pretty secretary in the reception area of McClare, Rupert and Byington and took note of the nameplate at the front of her desk. “Yes, Miss Peabody, you can—I need to see Logan McClare—
now
—so which office is he in?”

Her eyes circled wide. “I’m s-sorry, s-sir, but do you have an appointment?”

He leaned in, hands sprawled on the front of her desk like a threat. “No, Miss Peabody, I have a beef, and either you tell me which office he’s in or I’ll just blast down that hallway slamming doors till I find him.”

She shot to her feet. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you—”