10 

A low whistle slipped from Jamie’s lips. “Holy thunder, Abraham, would you look at those gams!” He swallowed hard, his tongue as dry as the mountains of sand dredged out by Sutro Baths on the far side of the shore.

San Francisco’s premiere indoor swimming facility was abuzz with people enjoying seven seawater and freshwater pools beneath a four-story glazed roof of 100,000 panes of stained glass. Sunlight dappled the people and water below with rainbow colors while children splashed and played with parents and friends. The pools fairly shimmered with activity like a sea of minnows, from bathers milling on the platforms to swimmers flying high on toboggan slides, swings, flying rings, and trampolines. The crash of the surf on the rocky shore outside filtered in between the laughter and shrieks of children of all ages, each and every one thrilling to Adolph Sutro’s man-made wonder. The largest and most magnificent bathhouse in the world, San Francisco’s top summer attraction lured people far and wide, a veritable Atlantis where ten thousand bathers could experience a love affair with the sea all at one time.

A love affair, indeed, Jamie thought with a race of his pulse, but not with the sea. Despite the buzz and hum of this water wonderland, his gaze was fused solely on Cassidy McClare, the breath in his lungs heaving to a stop the moment she stepped from the ladies’ locker. Even in Sutro Baths’ standard black woolen rental bathing suits, she was a vision, sporting a thigh-high hem striped with white that showcased the most beautiful legs he’d ever seen. He sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head. Heavenly days, I’m in love!

“Hey, you ogling my cousin, MacKenna?” Blake said in a tease, palming seawater into Jamie’s face as he, Bram, and Jamie sat on the side of the pool. Feet dangling in the water, the three men fared better than most in Sutro’s standard issue of black men’s one-piece rental suits, revealing broad shoulders and hard-muscled bodies honed to intimidation at the Oly Club gym.

A low chuckle rumbled from Bram’s throat. “Oh, he’s doing more than ogling.” He brushed a fly from his shoulder. “Trust me, Mac has designs on Cass for ogling and more.”

Jamie flicked a handful of water at Bram, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “What are you talking about, Hughes, Cassie and I are just friends.”

“Sure you are,” Bram said with a grin. “I’ve never seen you this far gone over a ‘friend’ before, and since it’s Blake’s cousin, I figure he has a right to know.”

“Know what?” Blake gave Jamie the eye. “You smitten with our Texas girl, Mac?”

Sliding Bram a thin gaze, Jamie cuffed the back of his neck as he shot Blake a sheepish look. “You could say that, or in Texas vernacular, you might say I’m hog-tied in love.”

Blake grinned and slapped Jamie’s back. “Well, I have no problem with you being in the family. May as well be, as much as you eat us out of house and home.”

Jamie gritted his teeth, gaze roving to where Cassie and her cousins were making their way over. “Just one problem, Blake. When it comes to men, she’s as skittish as a newborn colt. It’s taken weeks for her to even talk to me, and the only way I could get her to be civil was to tell her I just wanted to be friends.”

“Which is nothing but a brazen lie,” Bram said with a chuckle. He thumped the side of Jamie’s head. “How’s it feel, MacKenna, not to have a woman swoon at your feet?”

Jamie slapped his hand away, flashing some teeth. “More like you mortals, I guess. I’ll tell you what, though, it sure helps me to understand you a lot better, Hughes.”

“Well, you must be making some headway.” Blake squinted at Cassie out of the corner of his eye as she chatted with Alli. “Seems she’s been a lot less crusty with you lately.”

“Yeah, she has,” Jamie said with a soft smile. “Which means just a few more weeks of friendship, and then I make my move.”

Blake skewed him with a look. “Your move? With my cousin?”

Jamie grinned. “Purely legitimate, McClare—nothing more than a kiss to convince her we’ve moved beyond friends. I’m not stupid enough to pull anything funny with a girl like her, trust me. Good grief, the woman would rope and brand me if I got fresh, which I have to admit—” he offered a crooked grin—“would be well worth the risk.”

Maddie skipped forward, an auburn pigtail bouncing off the wide straps of her black skirted swimsuit. “Alli says we’re going to play Marco Polo,” she said with a clap.

“You bet we are,” Alli said. “Any takers?” She propped her hands on the hips of her full-skirted black rental bathing suit.

“The sooner we get in the water, the better,” Cassie said, tugging at the cinched waist of her suit, emphasizing a shapely body that left Jamie tongue-tied. “These things are itchy.”

I know the feeling, Jamie thought with a garbled clear of his throat. The “itch” to know Cassidy McClare better was driving him crazy. Hopping to his feet, he leisurely stretched arms overhead, bending side to side to loosen up for the game. “Let’s do it, then—I’ll be Marco.”

Bram jumped up. “I guess we know who’s going lose this game,” he muttered, his grin annoying Jamie to no end. He ambled over to tug on Meg’s saffron-colored braid before latching a brotherly arm over her shoulders. “Stick with me, Bug, and I’ll keep the bad shark away.”

Meg giggled, cheeks tinged pinker than sunburn. With an adolescent crush that was obvious to everyone but Bram, it was a toss-up as to which glowed more—her eyes or her face.

“Come on, squirt, you’re with me.” Blake scooped Maddie up with a nuzzle to her neck that produced a joyous squeal. “Hold your nose, kiddo, we’re going in . . .” The squealing ended with a loud splash when Blake jumped into the waist-high pool with his little sister, prompting a peal of giggles when she popped back up in his arms.

“Last one in the water is the backside of a baboon!” Cassie leapt into the pool as gracelessly as possible, legs flailing and wisps of gold trailing from a happily haphazard chignon. A smile eased across Jamie’s lips, and he followed suit, making a beeline to where Cassie was splashing with Bram and Blake. “Oh, here’s the baboon now,” she teased, turning on him with a slap of water before darting behind Bram for protection.

His approach slow and methodical, Jamie supplied a challenging smile. “I wouldn’t be hanging your hat on him, Sugar Pie,” he said in the lazy Texas drawl he’d perfected to get under her skin. “Because when I’m through with you, Cowgirl, that pretty face is gonna make a baboon’s backside look plum pale.” He lunged around Bram, but the little brat was slicker than a minnow’s ear, hurtling away to hide behind Blake and Maddie, who promptly cheered her on.

“Come on, City Boy, no stalling.” Cassie gave a sassy sway of hips. “Or cheating.”

“I beg your pardon,” he said with a hand to his chest. “I don’t have to cheat.”

“Except at tennis,” Blake said with a chuckle.

“Only because it doesn’t take any brains, McClare.” Jamie swooped a swell of water in Blake’s direction, causing Maddie to squeal and kick on his shoulders.

“No, just brawn, which you’re short on too.” Bram grinned, bracing Meg’s shoulders.

“I got all the brawn I need in my fists,” Jamie said with a cocky smile, “which, may I remind you, won you and Big Mouth over there many a bet at the Oly Club.”

“Uh, excuse me, ‘Marco,’ ” Alli said with a superior lift of her brow, “for someone calling others a ‘big mouth,’ you’re sure jawing a lot. Can we get started before I shrivel into a prune?”

“Too late.” Blake tugged on her sagging suit, which was too big for her petite frame.

“Okay, everybody, you best scatter.” Jamie closed his eyes and waded through the water with a confident air. “Because even blind, I’m dangerous—Marco!”

“Polo!” Shouts split the air, and Jamie grinned, honing in on a sassy feminine voice to his right. He sloshed on with one goal in mind: to get his hands on Cassidy McClare. “Marco!”

“Polo!” Voices rang out, along with chuckles and the wild swish of water, none of which could throw him off track from the throaty giggle of a sea nymph with a Texas drawl.

Easing forward, he could almost feel her nearby, his senses alert to the gentle lapping of water from someone attempting to back away. “Marco!”

“Polo . . .”

He grinned. Her feeble response signaled a stealthy attempt at escape. Victory coursed through his veins as he shouted, his cry that of a warrior in battle. “Marco!”

There was no giggly response this time, only a squeal and a thrash of water when she lunged away, but his swim skills had been finely tuned at the Oly Club, where he’d swum many a lap in the water-polo pool. He dove with eyes wide, those beautiful legs floundering in a futile attempt to flee. For several pulse-pounding seconds she wrestled wildly in a blur, and he would have grinned if he could have done so without taking in seawater. He looped her at the waist and shot straight up in a gush of foamy water, his grin breaking free. Unwilling to let go, he held her longer than necessary, her body flush to his while she spit and swiped at her eyes. Mouth to her ear, he couldn’t resist. “A baboon’s backside has nothing on you right now, Cowgirl.”

“So help me,” she sputtered, elbowing him till he released her with a grunt. She spun around to kick him in the shins, but the water slowed the impact, so she finished him off with a knee to his left thigh.

“Ouch,” he said with a groan. He massaged his leg with a grimace that wasn’t all pretend. “What is it with you and that bony knee of yours? You can’t pick a different thigh to gouge? This one’s still blue from the last time.”

“Good!” She gave him a playful shove. “Serves you right, MacKenna. You are just not happy unless you’re manhandling somebody, are you, you overgrown bully?”

He offered a lopsided grin as soppy as the itchy woolen bathing suit matted to his water-slick chest. “Nope, I’m a ‘man,’ and heaven knows I do like to ‘handle,’ so I’d say you’re it, Cowgirl.” His drawl managed to coax a semblance of a smile from those wet, pouty lips.

“Hey, MacKenna!” Alli said, hands on hips. “It’s water tag, Pretty Boy, not wrestling at the Oly.” She winked at Cassie. “Bet you wish you had that mangy lasso right about now, don’t you?”

Cassie pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face. “You have no idea.” Lips pursed, she zoned in on Blake, water lust in her eyes. “You’re next, McClare.”

“Hey, why me? I’ve got an innocent child on my shoulders.” Blake took several steps back, hands gripped tight to Maddie’s stubby legs. “Tell her, Maddie.”

The little imp actually wiggled in delight, little hands pasted across her brother’s eyes. “Ooooo—get him, Cass—it’ll be fun!”

Jamie grinned. “If you can tell which one’s the little girl.”

Cassie laughed, green eyes as thin as pine needles. “You’re next, MacKenna, if I can’t get Blake, so don’t get too comfortable.”

Don’t I wish. Jamie gave her a smug smile, but his heart was pounding harder than the surf outside the Baths. He slogged over to Bram and Meg, leaning close to Bram’s ear. “Marco Polo is now officially one of my favorite games,” he whispered.

“Prone to contact sports, are you?” Bram cupped his hands to his mouth, responding to Cassie. “Polo!”

Jamie lowered his voice so Meg couldn’t hear. “You bet. It’s all I have till I can court the woman right and proper.”

“Give it time, Mac,” Bram said, backing away from Meg for privacy. “The girl’s battle worn and gun-shy, so you’ll have to take it real slow.”

“Tell that to my heart.” Jamie’s smile took a twist. “Polo!” He muffled his voice, eyes never straying from Cassie. “The woman’s everything I want, Bram—smart, sassy, beautiful, funny—and the icing on the cake? A McClare. A family so wealthy and politically connected, we’ll all be living on Nob Hill as one big, happy family before the little MacKennas arrive.” He released a slow, wavering breath. “The truth? I couldn’t have dreamed anyone better suited for me—Polo!”

Bram studied him with a wary eye. “Cassie is a catch, Mac, no doubt about that, but don’t rush into anything, please. Give her time to see if it’s what she wants too.”

“Oh, she’ll want it all right,” he muttered, jaw steeled. “You know me, Padre—when I make up my mind to go after something, it’s as good as done.”

Bram paused, his eyes suddenly serious as Cassie lunged for Blake. “I know, but for all her cowhide exterior, Cassie’s heart is too vulnerable right now for you to rush her just because it’s what you want. And you may think she’s the woman for you, but you need to be fair to Cassie and give her time to make the decision for herself.”

“I don’t have time,” Jamie said, his tone suddenly hard. He thought of his sister, her crippled hip denying her the life she was meant to live, and had no inclination to wait. Cassie McClare was not only his ticket to true love, but she was his sister’s chance at an operation and his chance to make political and financial strides. “Sorry, Bram—but I know in my gut she’s the woman I need.” He watched as she scooped Maddie up in her arms, the two of them giggling and drenched to the bone. Setting her little cousin down, she commenced to somersaults while his heart did the same. And the woman I want? She shot from the water like a sea nymph, water sluicing down the most fascinating woman he’d ever known, wet or dry. Jamie’s Adam’s apple dipped in his throat. Oh, yeah . . .

Sweet Texas tea, I could get used to this! Breathing in the scent of the sea, Cassie stretched on the sundeck with a lazy smile, soaking in the afternoon sun that radiated through the panes of glass overhead. She lay there with eyes closed, feeling the vibration of people running and walking on the wood decking, hearing the rustle of potted palms lining the railing beside her. Loud splashes of water were punctuated with shrieks of children and the laughter of a group of girls sunbathing a few feet away. The smell of seawater on damp wood merged with the pungent smell of wet wool from thousands of waterlogged bathing suits. It reminded her of wet dog, and homesickness struck at the thought of her golden retriever, Gus. From there, her mind veered to Mama and Daddy, causing her to miss them so much, she vowed to write a letter after dinner.

Out of nowhere, the smell of popcorn taunted and she sniffed a deep breath, causing her stomach to rumble. Oh, crumb! I should have gone to the concession stand with everyone else.

Something flicked off her face, and she swatted, guessing it to be a fly. It landed in her hair, and she batted several times, hoping to shoo it away. It tickled the hollow of her throat and she scowled with a slap at her neck. “Thunderation, go bother somebody else, you little pest!”

“Can’t. Nobody’s as fun to torment.”

Jolting up, Cassie shaded her eyes, squinting up at a “pest” who was anything but “little” as he towered over her with a devilish smile. A piece of popcorn hit her square on the nose, bouncing off before she realized what it was. Her mouth tipped. “If you value your life, MacKenna, you best start aiming for my mouth—I’m starved.”

A kernel ricocheted off her teeth, and his husky chuckle made her mouth go dry, as much from the look in his eye as from the popcorn. “It helps if you open it for something other than lame threats, Miss McClare.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Let me get my lariat, Mr. MacKenna, and I’ll show you lame.” Her jaws extended wide, and popcorn pelted the back of her throat. She grinned, mouth watering around the salty morsel. “Mmm . . . not bad for a pretty boy.”

He gave her a mischievous grin. “You should see my other skills.”

She wished the heat in her face was sunburn, but she knew better. And apparently so did he because he chuckled before dropping to sit beside her, muscled legs tented as he handed her the popcorn. “Better be careful, Cass, your face is getting red.”

She snatched the bag, miffed when more blood scorched her cheeks. “Thank you,” she muttered, rattled by his close proximity. She averted her eyes from thickly sculpted arms to hard-muscled legs, painfully aware her “sunburn” was getting worse by the moment. “Where are the others?” she asked, anxious to divert attention. Spending time with Jamie MacKenna as friends in a group was one thing. Lying beside him alone on a sparsely populated sundeck in bathing suits was something else altogether. Suddenly Cassie was painfully aware of her bare legs and tucked them to her side, wishing the others would return soon.

“Blake was hungry, so he talked everyone into snacks.” He grabbed the towel draped over his shoulder and bunched it into a pillow, then lay down with hands to the back of his neck, biceps bulging and legs crossed at the ankles. “I decided to take pity on you with popcorn.” His tone held a tease. “Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do for a friend.”

A friend, yes. She chanced a peek at narrow hips, a washboard stomach, and broad shoulders that stirred a dizzy swirl in her middle, none of which had to do with the bobbing of the deck. A dangerous proposition, indeed, she thought with a shaky exhale. Oh, he’d apologized for his outrageous behavior in the billiard room that night, over and over to be exact, but the damage was done. Almost as if the low-down varmint had branded her brain on purpose, the memory of his kiss so powerful, she’d go weak at the mere thought. Her lips went flat. And the way they were pasted together when they’d vaulted from the water after Marco Polo? Great balls of fire, her legs were so limp, she would have sunk like an anchor if he hadn’t held her up, making friendship with this man a risky venture for sure.

Eyes closed, he thrust his formidable chin in an apparent effort to capture the rays of the sun, giving her the courage to study him unaware. He was, undeniably, the most handsome man she’d ever seen, even more so than Mark, and that was saying something. Thick, dark lashes entirely too long for a male rested against a perfectly sculpted face that even at this early hour hinted at the shadow of a dark beard. Damp curls feathered in the breeze, giving him a reckless air only enhanced by full, wide lips edged with the barest of smiles. No, he was entirely too beautiful to be trustworthy and too masculine to be above suspicion—something she’d learned the hard way, and she wasn’t about to make that mistake again. She breathed in deeply, willing herself to be calm despite the flutters in her stomach. Friendship with Jamie MacKenna may be a risky venture, but it was far better than the alternative, and she had little choice since he was Blake’s best friend.

He chose that moment to open his eyes, and blood gorged her cheeks when he caught her staring. Clearing her throat, she quickly scooted against a potted palm in front of the railing, tucking her legs beneath the skirt of her suit. Bag in her lap, she placed several kernels in her mouth, striving for nonchalance. “So . . . you met Blake and Bram in law school or college?”

Shifting to his side, he propped his head on his elbow to peer up beneath those ridiculous lashes. “Neither—met ’em at the Oly Club where I worked during college. It’s their influence—with your Uncles Logan and Liam—that helped me get a foot into Stanford where the three of us attended law school. You might say I owe Blake and Bram my life—they’re not only the best friends I’ve ever had, they’re the only ones.”

He opened his mouth wide to indicate he wanted popcorn, looking so much like a baby bird waiting for a worm that Cassie grinned as she aimed. He snapped the popcorn midair before gulping it down with a smile. “Mmm . . . good at billiards, poker, and target-throwing.” His smile veered wayward. “You good at everything you do, Cowgirl?”

She scrunched her nose. “Mostly, if you exclude men.” She squinted and took aim at his mouth again, anxious to steer the conversation away from herself. “The only friends you’ve ever had?” she inquired in jest. “What, too busy wooing girlfriends to make time for the male variety?”

He captured the kernel with a firm click of perfectly white teeth. “Nope, too busy studying and working three jobs to make any friends—male or female.” He held out a cupped palm, and she poured popcorn in, a piece of which he promptly tossed in the air and caught with his mouth. “You know, that’s the third time you’ve accused me of having a girlfriend, Cass, but the truth is I’ve only dated a handful of women because I simply haven’t had time before now.”

She stopped mid-chew. “Now, why do I find that so hard to believe?”

Another kernel popped in the air, and he caught it with ease. “I don’t know—maybe because you’ve got me pegged as nothing more than a pretty-boy womanizer?”

A piece of popcorn lodged in her throat, and she began to hack, prompting him to jump to his knees and tap her on the back. “You okay?”

She waved him away, quite sure her “sunburn” bordered on heatstroke. Sucking in a deep breath, she peeked up with a guilty smile.

He laughed, the sound warm and intimate despite the other sunbathers scattered across the deck. Sprawling on his side again, he gave her a boyish grin that made her stomach somersault like the kids in the pool. “That’s okay—I had you pegged as a spoiled princess with a burr in your saddle, so we’re even. And,” he said with a zag of his brow, “both of us apparently wrong.” He tossed another piece of popcorn, chomping it with a firm clamp of his jaw. “Besides, what else were you supposed to think when I so brazenly sealed our friendship with a kiss?”

“Exactly,” she said, attempting to swallow the lump in her throat. “Besides, Alli says you have a penchant for senators’ daughters, Miss Hamilton, in particular, and you are very attractive, so I just assumed . . .”

“Assumed?” He targeted her with a kernel, which promptly bounced off the tip of her nose. “If I did that in a court of law, Miss McClare, I’d never win.” He grabbed the piece and downed it before extending a palm. “So . . . shall we start over?”

She studied his hand, cheeks heating at the memory of when he’d offered it the last time.

His grin softened into a smile. “No tricks this time, Cass, you have my word.”

Her gaze met his, and her heart did a little swoop at the connection that sparked. Swallowing hard, she gave him her hand, heart stuttering when his palm swallowed it whole, giving her a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Friends,” he whispered, hazel eyes fused to hers.

She nodded slowly and brushed loose hair from her eyes, shaky fingers tingling from his touch. “Goodness, it’s hard to believe someone like you has never had a girlfriend or anyone you’ve cared for. It just seems like you’re so . . . ,” she gulped, “experienced.”

“Nope, just a quick study.” Lying back, he cocked his hands behind his neck. “Other than a few girls here and there, till now, all of my attention has been devoted to two women—my mother and my sister.” He closed his eyes, smile dimming. “They mean everything to me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, apparently striving for casual once again. “So, between family, school, and jobs, you’ll be happy to know I haven’t had a lot of time to womanize.”

She paused, her heart aching as she chewed on the edge of her lip. “Alli told me your sister is crippled,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

His eyes remained closed, but a muscle jerked in his cheek. “Yeah, she is, but not for long, I hope. I’m working on getting her help, a newfangled operation I’ve read about.”

“Goodness, I’ll certainly be praying about that.”

He glanced up, eyes narrowing, but not from the sun. “Don’t waste your breath, Cass, for all the good it will do.” At her look of shock, he vented with a noisy sigh, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, but I don’t put a lot of stock in prayer. It’s kind of hard to believe in a God who hasn’t lifted a finger for us all of our lives and then cripples my sister too.”

Cassie’s eyes splayed wide. “You don’t believe in God?” she whispered, stunned that a man who appeared to have everything was missing the only thing that really mattered.

His jaw stiffened. “Not much, and even if I did, I’m not sure I’d like him a whole lot.”

She gasped, suddenly aware she needn’t have worried about their friendship being a risk. There was no way she’d allow herself to fall in love with a man who didn’t share her faith.

He turned back on his side, elbow cocked and mouth tipped in a conciliatory smile. “You don’t have to look so scandalized. My mother and sister are advocates, even if I’m not. They’re always praying about everything, and I even take them to church every week like a model son. But when it comes to Jess’s surgery and providing for my family?” He shook his head, lips pursed. “I just prefer to fend for myself, that’s all.” He looked up, the edge disappearing from his tone as he gave her a faint smile. “Life’s obstacles are daunting, and we all have to overcome in our own way.” His eyes softened. “But then, you should know all about that,” he whispered, voice as tender as the look in his eyes. He paused. “What happened in Texas, Cass?”

The breath hitched in her lungs at his gentle probe, catching her off-guard. Normally she was a vault with everyone but Alli and Aunt Cait, preferring to keep her secrets to herself. But there was something about his serious and vulnerable manner that completely disarmed her, as if he connected with her pain despite his teasing swagger. He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle press, and somehow she saw her own grief reflected in his eyes. “Forgive me, please,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to answer that—I tend to get pushy at times.”

She shook her head, managing a tremulous smile. “No . . . no, for some reason I . . . feel like talking about it, Jamie, which is odd because I’m usually very private.”

He squeezed her hand and released it, their eyes locked as he waited for her to continue.

Inhaling deeply, she swung her legs around and folded her arms on tented knees, gaze fixed on the sky and voice as far away as the glittering panes overhead. “You see, I’ve always been considered a little . . . odd.”

“Odd?”

She rested her chin on her arms, wondering why she felt compelled to allow Jamie MacKenna a glimpse into her world. Maybe because he’d given her a glimpse into his, no matter how brief or bitter. Or maybe she just really needed a friend right now. Whatever the reason, somehow deep inside Cassie felt as if she could trust him to accept her for who she was, and that felt better than anything had felt in a long, long time. Her lips curved in a bare smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mr. MacKenna, but I don’t exactly fill the bill for high society. Back home, I prefer blue jeans to dresses, ranching to socializing, and horses to men. Which, to the upper echelon of Humble, Texas, is completely unforgivable.”

He grinned. “Horses to men? Tarnation, I never stood a chance, did I?”

She shook her head and laughed. “Nope, especially not after Mark.”

“Ah . . . Mark,” he said with a squint. “The crux of the problem, I take it.”

She closed her eyes, and instantly her smile faded. “Yes, Mark . . . ,” she whispered, her voice tapering low. Fighting a prick of tears, she continued, her thoughts traveling back to Humble. “He was quite the catch, you know, son of a wealthy sawmill owner from Houston who’d just moved to Humble to open a sawmill.” Her lips quirked. “And find a wife. Since the oil boom, Humble has quite an upscale society, you see. So you can imagine how the society pages painted it when the handsome Mr. Chancellor chose to court the reclusive tomboy of Mr. Quinn McClare instead of socialites who vied for his attention.”

She stretched out and leaned back to study the sky through the crystal-like panes. “From little on, I never quite fit in high society because Mama taught at the Indian reservation before she married Daddy and after, and so I spent a lot of time there, and Humble elite didn’t cotton to that. They made fun of me because my friends were Indians and not the daughters of wealthy landowners or oilmen. It got so bad Mama yanked me from an exclusive girls’ school in town to teach me at the reservation school instead. Of course it didn’t help that I refused to attend debutante balls or society teas. That gave rise to more gossip and rude names, which I have to admit hurt at first.” Her chin jutted up. “But they weren’t my friends, so I pretended it didn’t matter, opting to spend time with the people I cared about most—my best friends, Morning Dove and White Deer. To me ‘coming out’ meant fishing outside with Daddy at the river or riding Domino—my polka-dot mare—in the hills with Red or Merle, Daddy’s loyal hands.” She glanced at Jamie out of the corner of her eye, mouth skewed in a wry smile. “Certainly not prissing up for some fancy ball, trussing up in a corset to catch a man’s eye.”

He smiled that slow, languid smile with which she was rapidly becoming familiar, his scan of her legs warming both her cheeks and her belly. “Trust me, Cass, you don’t need a corset to catch a man’s eye.”

With a self-concious tug of her lip, she tucked her legs back under her skirt. “Well, thank you, but it’s a Gibson-Girl world, which is why I said no when Mark asked me out.”

“You did?”

“Yep. It was bad enough being rejected by Humble’s upper-crust—I didn’t feel like giving some man a potshot at me too.” Her pulse slowed to a painful thud as her eyes trailed into a hard stare. “But Mark was . . . ,” her throat convulsed with a hard swallow, the memory of his affection shrinking her ribs, “so . . . kind and attentive and indifferent to whether society approved of me or not, and I . . . ,” emotion jammed in her throat, “couldn’t help myself—I fell in love.”

“Cass, I’m sorry . . . ,” Jamie said softly.

“Me too,” she whispered with a swab of her eyes. “The day Mark proposed was the happiest day of my life, making me feel normal for the first time ever.”

“What happened?” His voice was quiet.

A cold chill shivered despite the warmth of the sun. She closed her eyes, remembering with painful clarity the day Mark broke the engagement. “I love you, Cass,” he’d whispered, repentance heavy in his tone, “but I can’t afford to lose everything and start over.”

Translation: I love my father’s money more than I love you.

How ironic . . . right after Daddy’s wells went dry . . .

“Cass?”

Her eyes jolted open. “What?”

He rested his hand over hers, grazing it with his thumb. “What happened?” he repeated.

She forced a smile as stiff as her jaw. “Oh, nothing much. His daddy just threatened to disown him if he married me, that’s all. Said I was too different and Mark deserved better.” A knot jerked in her throat. “So he . . . broke the engagement. A week before the wedding.”

“Aw, Cass . . .” He rose to his knees to bundle her in his arms, stroking her back with a warm, firm touch. “He was a moron who didn’t deserve you,” he whispered, tucking his head to hers. He kissed the top of her hair and jumped to his feet. “Hey, what do you say I pretend I’m Mark, and you try and drown me?”

She tilted her head. “You’d let me do that?”

He tugged her up and to the water. “Sure, that’s what friends do, isn’t it?” he said with a lazy grin, absently kneading the skin of her palm.

His touch unleashed a shiver of heat that forced a lump to her throat. Maybe, she thought with a gulp, slipping her hand from his to race him to the water. But she was dead certain there was something friends did not do . . . at least, not with a friend like him.

They don’t fall in love.