24 

Assessing her tearstained face in the mirror, Cassie gouged a final hairpin in, wishing she could rip them all out and just go to bed. Heaving a deflated sigh, she stared at her pitiful reflection, not even blinking an eye at the knock on her door.

“Cass?”

“It’s open,” she said, tone lifeless and nasal.

“What are you—” Alli stopped mid-sentence when Cassie turned, red-rimmed eyes apparently giving her dead away. “Aw, Cass,” she whispered, closing the door before she hurried over to wrap her in a tight hug. “What did that little brat do now?”

Cassie sniffed and plopped on the edge of her bed. “What pretty-boy brats like him do so well, Al—he broke my heart. Again.”

Alli sat and looped an arm to her waist. “But I thought you agreed to forgive and forget and just be friends?”

A grunt rolled from Cassie’s lips. “Oh, I did, but I didn’t expect him to make it so blamed easy.” She sniffed. “Or maybe I should say ‘hard.’ ”

“What do you mean?” Alli asked, appearing ready to take Jamie on with a square of her shoulders.

Cassie’s gaze wandered into a vacant stare, shoulders slumped. “He’s courting Patricia.”

“What?” Alli’s back went stiff as a rod. “But he hasn’t looked twice at her since you came to stay, and then there were all those advances he made to you . . .”

“Which he apologized for,” Cassie said, voice wavering into a sigh.

It was Alli’s turn to grunt. “Humph—too little, too late, if you ask me.” She shook Cassie’s arm. “I refuse to believe he cares more for Patricia than for you. Why, the man couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, let alone his hands.”

Cassie turned, lip in a quiver. “Do you think that’s it, Al? That he lost interest when I gave in to his kiss—the night we played midnight? You know, suddenly I was no longer a challenge?”

“Horsefeathers,” Alli said, tone indignant. “Why, Liddy said she’s caught him with Trish in the past . . .” Her voice trailed off at the sudden tears in Cassie’s eyes. She squeezed her in a fierce embrace. “Oh, Cass, I’m sorry, but knowing Trish like I do, I doubt that’s the reason.” She gently brushed hair from Cassie’s face. “I don’t know why this happened, but I do know Jamie cares for you.”

A hiccup broke from Cassie’s mouth. “Sure he does—as a friend.”

Alli sat straight up, the gape of her mouth curving into trouble. “Maybe—maybe not.”

Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, no . . . I don’t like that look in your eye.”

“Great balls of fire, I’ll bet that’s one way we can flush out his true feelings.”

Cassie moaned. “Come on, Al, his true feelings are obvious—he has no interest in me other than as a friend, and I’ve accepted that.” She sniffed, eyes trailing into a pitiful stare. “Daddy always says ‘every trail has a few puddles,’ but dash it all, Al, I’m tired of getting wet.”

“Well, then, let’s send a little storm Jamie’s way, shall we?”

Cassie glanced up, shaking her head. “Oh, no—”

Alli stared her down. “Look, you may’ve accepted it, but I refuse to allow you to sit there at Blake’s party pretending everything’s hunky-dory while Jamie fawns over another woman.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Cassie said with a groan.

“Maybe a little fawning of your own?”

“Excuse me?”

A devious chuckle rumbled in Alli’s throat as she hopped to her feet. She grabbed Cassie’s hand and tugged her to the door. “Blake can invite whomever he likes.” Alli winked. “Especially if they happen to be eligible bachelors.”

Cassie balked, heels skidding across the polished wood floor. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said with panic in her chest. “I am through with men for the summer and maybe forever.”

Alli folded her arms. “All right, Cass, if you want to be the only one without an escort while Jamie dances the night away with Trish . . .”

“I won’t be the only one—you’ll be there.” Cassie crossed her arms right back.”

“With an escort,” Alli emphasized. “Blake’s been hounding me to meet a friend of his, so I think this party is the perfect place, don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t.” Cassie felt the blood drain from her face.

Alli leaned in. “You bet I would, to force you to stand up to Jamie MacKenna? Unless, of course,” she said, brow angled high, “you won’t mind the gloat in Trish’s eyes?”

That did it. The blood returned to Cassie’s cheeks in force. “But only for Blake’s party, right?” she asked, her nervousness giving way with a chew of her lip.

“Absolutely,” Alli said, “unless you want it to be more . . .”

Cassie nodded, swallowing hard. “You’ll ask Blake for me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“It has to be somebody Blake trusts, of course—nice, kind, and a perfect gentleman.” Cassie found another hangnail to punish.

“Keep in mind this is Blake here, but we’ll do our best.” Alli opened Cassie’s door.

“And, Al?” Cass stood there, thumb in her teeth.

“Yes, Cass?” Alli’s gaze was tender.

“Can you make sure he’s prettier than MacKenna?”

Alli grinned, hooking Cassie’s waist to usher her down the hall. “For crying out loud, Cass, give me a little credit, will you?” Her smile slid into a smirk. “That’s a given.”

“Are you crazy? Harper’s a womanizer from the word go!” Jamie ignored the curious glances at the entrance of The Cliff House Dining Room, channeling all his frustration over a bad day at work into upbraiding his best friend, birthday or no. Hands stiff on his hips, he stared at Blake like he’d just arranged for Cassie to go out with an axe murderer. Music and conversation filtered from the palatial dining room where endless rounds of linen-clad tables circled a dance floor filled with beautiful people. Bejeweled matrons of society glittered and glowed like the candlelight sconces throughout the pillared room, creating a fairy-tale setting enjoyed by the darlings of Nob Hill.

Blake grinned. “So are you, Mac, but I let you come around, don’t I?”

“This isn’t funny, McClare—Cassie’s too innocent for the likes of that . . . that . . .”

“Pretty Boy?” Blake patted Jamie’s cheek. “Come on, she handled you, didn’t she?”

“This is different—I’m your best friend. I care about your family.”

Blake’s smile went flat. “Yeah? Tell that to Cassie—I watched her mope around the house for two weeks, remember?”

Heat scalded Jamie’s neck. “I already told you—I’m not religious enough to suit her.”

Blake chuckled. “You’re not religious at all, which is one of the reasons I like you, although I wish you’d rub off on Bram instead of the other way around.” He cuffed Jamie’s shoulder. “Come on, MacKenna—lighten up. Brad Harper’s not religious either, so he doesn’t stand a chance with Cass. Besides, I keep telling you—she handled you, she can handle him.”

Jamie’s jaw ground into a mulish press, remembering with painful clarity how he’d practically seduced Cassie during a game of midnight. No, Blake, she can’t . . .

“Uh-oh, don’t look now, but the senator’s daughter is heading this way.”

Jamie groaned, gouging the bridge of his nose with the ball of his hand. Great. First a trying case consumes my whole day and now a trying woman wants to consume my whole night.

“Here you are,” Patricia said, her long, dark hair swept up in a graceful pompadour that allowed for a single curl trailing her shoulder. She flipped it back, violet eyes a perfect match for a shapely dress that turned every male head in the room, reminding Jamie once again how lucky he was. His lips clamped in a tight line. Too bad he needed reminding, although he’d certainly felt that way once—before Cass. She slipped her arm in his and gave him a dazzling smile. “I believe you owe me a number of dances, Mr. MacKenna.”

Jamie forced a smile. “I believe I do, Miss Hamilton, an oversight I hope to correct.” He led her to the dance floor and took her in his arms, easing into the heady whirl of a waltz. She chatted away while he listened with half an ear, his mind on his trying day at work until Cassie caught his eye a few feet away. She didn’t possess the beauty of the woman he held, but his heart thudded all the same over powdered freckles she tried so hard to hide and the sparkle in green eyes now focused on another man. The lilt of her laughter cinched his jaw, her off-the-shoulder gown fluttering in the breeze as Harper spun her in his arms. In natural reflex, Jamie’s eyes roved the length of her, cream-colored chiffon flowing down a body that had haunted too many of his dreams.

“Jamie?”

His gaze jerked to Patricia, and fire broiled the back of his neck. “Yes?”

“You seem . . . distracted,” she said, a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

The fire combusted in his cheeks. “A little, I suppose.” He worked hard to focus only on her, hoping to assuage her concern with an apology and a little-boy smile. “Forgive me? I’m afraid my mind keeps straying to a particularly difficult case at work.”

With a blink of violet eyes, Patricia glanced over her shoulder in Cassie’s direction, returning her gaze to his with a tilt of her head. Concern was etched into every pore of her beautiful face. “Or maybe a particular person?” she said, a hint of a tremor in her tone.

The music ended and Jamie drew in a deep breath. “Cassie and I are only friends, Trish,” he said quietly, leading her back to the table. He sat beside her and downed the last of his water.

“But only because she’s poor . . .” Her voice trailed off, barely a whisper.

The sheen in her eyes pierced, and he took her hands in his. “Trish,” he said softly, “you and I—we’re good together. We like each other a lot, we have fun and most importantly, we have a mutually beneficial relationship that’s totally honest. You want to marry an up-and-coming lawyer with political aspirations? I need your father’s influence to secure a surgery for my sister and help achieve my political goals.” His heart constricted at the vulnerable look in her eyes. “I have feelings for you, you know that, and they will grow, trust me.”

Her bodice quivered as she drew in a shaky breath. “But will your feelings for Cassie go away?” she whispered, and the fear in her voice tore at his gut. She was in love with him, and he knew it even though he’d done everything in his power to take it slow when they’d first met, playing the field and seeing others in addition to her. But for some reason she’d fallen hard, determined to stake her claim. Maybe because her father seemed bent on him as well, a rags-to-riches politician who admired Jamie’s fire and spunk in climbing out of the sewers of the Barbary Coast. He’d made it abundantly clear he welcomed Jamie as a prospective son-in-law as much as Patricia wanted him as a husband, and Jamie knew the coffers were lined with gold if he courted his daughter. Including a house on Nob Hill and society approval as never before, not to mention government connections Jamie could only dream about. And most importantly, the political clout and bank account to provide a surgery for his sister. Everything he’d ever wanted.

Until Cassie.

Yes, Cassie had changed the flow of his heart, but he couldn’t allow her to change its course. A course he’d decided on six months prior when he’d suspected Patricia was the one. Would his feelings for Cassie go away? He didn’t know, but he did know what Trish needed to hear. He pressed a gentle kiss to her nose. “I’m sure of it—in time.”

“Trish, care to join me in the ladies’ room?” Liddy hurried over, face flushed from dancing with Blake.

Jamie glanced up at Patricia’s sister and smiled, giving Trish’s hand a light squeeze. “Go—I’ll step out for some fresh air, and we’ll dance after, all right?”

She nodded and rose to her feet, bending to bestow a peck to his cheek.

His heart felt like lead as he watched her and Liddy depart and exhaling a heavy breath, he rose and headed in the opposite direction of the crowded veranda. He preferred the near seclusion of the observation tower several stories above and quickly scaled the numerous flights of steps that deterred most patrons. Anxious to clear his mind with fresh sea air and views of waves crashing the rocky shore, he stepped out into the briny air. And stopped. His heart thudded at the sight of Cass and Harper at the far end, chatting as they both leaned over the stone wall.

Harper’s shoulder grazing Cassie’s triggered a spark of anger, and striding over, Jamie thumped him on the back. “Sorry to disturb, old boy, but Blake’s looking for you.”

Harper glanced over his shoulder. “What for?” he asked, irritation evident in his tone.

“Didn’t ask. “Jamie smiled. “But I’ll be happy to stay with Cass while you go find out.”

“No, thanks.” Harper cupped a hand to Cassie’s waist. “We were just heading down.”

“Actually, Brad,” Jamie said easily, his smile and manner casual, “I need to talk to Cass about something if you don’t mind, so I’ll escort her back shortly if it’s all right with her.”

Harper glanced at Cassie and she nodded. “It’s fine, Brad, really.”

“All right,” Brad said with a light squeeze of her hand. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

The moment he was out of earshot, Cassie turned to Jamie with a fold of arms. “So . . . something tells me you just sent Brad on a wild goose chase, MacKenna. Mind telling me why?”

The cool sea air ruffled Cassie’s hair and dress, but did nothing to cool Jamie’s temper. Searing her with a scowl, he butted a hip to the wall, his words far more clipped than intended. “You have no business up here with a man like him, Cass—Harper has a reputation.”

“Really?” She tilted her head, eyes in a squint. “An odd declaration from a man whose reputation would make most men look like a monk.”

His jaw began to grind. “I thought you didn’t like pretty boys, Miss McClare.”

“No,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I don’t trust pretty boys. You cured me of that.”

He slammed a palm to the wall, hand stinging as much as his pride. “Blast it, Cass, what are you trying to do to me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He jerked an arm towards the door. “Harper drooling all over you tonight, you coming up here alone with him?” He leaned in with a tic in his jaw. “I’ve never seen you play the flirt before, and it’s not becoming.”

Her chin lashed up. “No? Well, I trust your opinion about as much as I trust you. And I don’t know why you’re so all-fired worried. Worry about Patricia—she’s your concern, not me.” She pushed past. “Excuse me.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” he hissed.

She whirled around, flinging his hand off. “Why, Jamie? Isn’t that what you did to me?”

The raw truth of her words hit dead-center, unleashing a guilt he’d tried so hard to ignore. The lie to himself that she would understand because they were good friends. And that, as good friends, she’d wish him well with Patricia and not be hurt. His stomach cramped at the wounded look in her eyes and with a brutal ache in his chest, he wrenched her close, burying his face in her hair. “God help me, Cass, I did, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done . . .”

“No!” She jerked free, sparks of the old Cassie glinting in her eyes. She brandished a dangerous finger right beneath his nose. “Don’t you dare touch me—you don’t have the right. I will not be beguiled again, do you hear? You’re a smooth talker, Jamie MacKenna, and I’ve accepted our friendship for the sake of the family, but that friendship no longer entitles you to the closeness we once shared. We are friends who border on mere acquaintances and nothing more.”

He knew it was anger speaking, but her words still slashed like the icy wind at the back of his neck, chilling him to the bone. Throat convulsing, he stared, voice low. “Nothing more? We both know that’s a lie,” he whispered hoarsely. “We are dear friends who started to fall in love before we found out it wouldn’t work, that’s all.” He moved in, eyes fused to hers. “I can’t just turn that off, Cassie—you’re important to me, and I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

She stepped away, arms clutched to her waist. Green fire snapped in eyes that were now guarded. “Don’t worry, MacKenna, it’s not my friendship you’ve lost—it’s my trust.”

He flinched, remembering how long it had taken him to establish that very trust. He swallowed hard. “I suppose I deserve that, but in my defense, you set the terms.” Feeling awkward, he shoved his hands in his pockets with a shrug of his shoulders, hoping to defuse her temper with a soft tone. “I’m just the poor slob who couldn’t meet them.”

Some of the anger faded from her eyes as her chin thrust up. “You could have told me before you took advantage in Napa.”

He huffed out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “I didn’t realize it at the time, I swear.”

Her grunt confirmed her disbelief. “Oh, really? Just when did this great revelation occur? When you fell out of bed on your head the next day and realized I wasn’t worth the trouble?”

His head snapped up, the heat in his eyes going head-to-head with hers. “You’re worth the trouble, Miss McClare, make no mistake, or I wouldn’t have attempted to follow your inane rules in the first place.” He vented with a noisy breath while he fixed his gaze on the floor, unwilling for her to see the guilt in his eyes. His voice was harsh. “It occurred when I went home and saw my sister in pain after some blood-sucking lowlife attacked her.” He looked up when her gasp drew his gaze, desperate to salvage their friendship. “I’m sorry, Cass, but I realized then I couldn’t trust some God who’d allow that to happen.”

She blinked. “Oh, Jamie, I . . . I didn’t know.” A pause. “He didn’t—”

He shook his head. “No, the slime only had time to slam her to the ground, but he damaged her hip even more.” He hung his head. “She’s been in severe pain ever since.”

“I am so sorry,” she whispered.

He sucked in a deep breath, a sliver of guilt gnawing over the half-truth. “Me, too, Cass, because you mean the world to me, truly, but the truth is I can’t give you what you want.”

She nodded slowly, buffing her arms. His heart wrenched when wounded eyes peeked up. “And that’s the only reason?”

The innocence of her question gouged at his heart, and he hated himself for the man he’d become. “Yes, that’s the only reason,” he said, the lie almost making him wince. He lifted her chin with his finger, desperate to lighten the mood with a poor attempt at a smile. “No question—term number four is a back-breaker, and I can’t accept it any more than you can accept me without it.” He rubbed her arms. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to overrule it?” He held his breath while he awaited the answer he needed to hear—even if it wasn’t the one he wanted—and when she shook her head, his silent exhale slowly seeped out. “Well then, Miss McClare, I suppose there’s only one issue yet to discuss.” He feathered the stray curls back from the side of her face. “Harper’s not the right man for you, Cass—promise you’ll be careful.”

Her lip quirked, but the sheen in her eyes remained. “Like I tried with you?”

Chest constricting, he fished his handkerchief from his pocket to blot at her tears, wishing more than anything things could be different, that poverty didn’t stand in the way of his dream for Jess, for his family, and for himself. “Yes, like you tried with me,” he said, his regret as raw as the sudden bite of the wind. He pressed a soft kiss to her brow, desperate to repress the desire she provoked in order to maintain the friendship they both needed to have. Releasing a weighty sigh, he rested his forehead against hers. “It won’t be easy, Cass, but trust me, we can do this—love each other as good friends who want only the best for the other.”

“I suppose.” She pulled back, her manner suddenly serious. “But trust?” She shivered. “I’ll be honest, Jamie—my heart’s still pretty bruised, and we lost a lot of ground.” She relinquished a weary sigh. “It’s going to take time.”

“I know.” He cocooned her in his coat. A bittersweet relief flooded as he closed his eyes, grateful they could still be friends. “But look at it this way,” he said with a note of levity, desperate to chase the gloom away. “I’m far more trustworthy as a friend than a—and I quote—‘pretty-boy polecat’ you’re looking to court, right?”

He felt her body expand against his as she huffed out a noisy sigh. “One can only hope.”

A smile tipped his lips at the trace of humor in her tone. He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. “Well, trust me, I am. Just ask Blake or Bram.”

“Excuse me—Jamie?”

His head lunged up, blood chilling at the sight of Patricia a few feet away. “Mr. McClare is rounding everyone up for a toast and dessert in fifteen minutes,” she said quietly, her face as expressionless as the chiseled stone columns sheltering the open deck.

Rooted to the spot, he felt Cassie shiver and immediately stripped off his coat to drape it over her shoulders.

“No, Jamie,” she said, pushing it away. “I’ll be fine. Go with Patricia—I’ll follow soon.”

“It’s getting chilly, Cass. You can’t stay up here alone.”

She nodded toward several couples here and there on the deck. “I’m not alone, and I just need a few minutes by myself, really. I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Then you’ll take my coat.” His tone was stern as he slipped his jacket over her shoulders again, then bent to envelop her in a tight hug. “I care about you, Cass,” he whispered in her ear, “and your friendship is one of the most precious things in my life. Never forget that, please.”

———

Oh, that I could . . . She pulled away, offering a shaky smile. “Please tell Brad and Uncle Logan I’ll be along soon—in time for the toast, okay?”

“Certainly.” Patricia’s smile, though stiff, bore none of her usual disdain as she looped her arm through Jamie’s. “Ready, Jamie?”

“Yes.” His gaze flicked to Cassie. “Not too long, all right?”

She nodded and watched them leave, heartsick that friendship was the only thing she would ever have with Jamie MacKenna. She turned back toward the sea and crossed her arms on the stone wall, resting her head on top while she closed her eyes to ward off more tears. As crushed as she was, she couldn’t blame Jamie alone. The terms had been hers, not his. She’d known better than falling in love with a man who didn’t share her faith, and yet she’d compromised her convictions under the guise of bringing him closer to God. And in the end, it’d been Jamie himself who had done the right thing—stepped aside to honor her wishes.

She brushed the wetness from her eyes, face to the sky. “All right, Lord, if this is the way it must be, then I pray to be the friend Jamie needs—and the caliber of friend he’s been to me. I’ll need grace, Lord, and please—please—purge my heart of this longing for more.” With a sniff, she retrieved his handkerchief to dab at her eyes. Expelling a formidable sigh, she turned, body jolting at the sight of Patricia a few feet away. Feeling awkward, she started for the door. “I was just on my way . . . ,” she said quickly, not interested in conversation with Jamie’s date.

Patricia’s touch iced her to the spot, as chilling as her tone. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

Cassie turned. “Pardon me?”

Patricia’s smile was as cool as the night. “That cow-town innocence may work on Jamie, Miss McClare, but it won’t work on me.” She took a step closer, but Cassie refused to budge. “Jamie and I are going to be married, so it’s no use wasting your time trying to lure him back.”

Anger surged. “How dare you! We are friends and nothing more.”

Her gaze flicked down and up with disdain. “Yes, I know. But Jamie has a bright political future, and as the woman who will be his wife, I’d rather you not be ‘friends’ at all.”

His wife. The words may as well have been the back of Patricia’s hand—the effect was the same, sending Cassie’s heart reeling. She fought the spark of tears with a thrust of her chin. “You can’t stop us from being friends, Patricia.”

“Oh, but I can, Miss McClare,” she said with cool deliberation. “All it takes is the truth.”

“The ‘truth’ as you call it, Miss Hamilton, is that Jamie and I care about each other a great deal. We have a friendship based on respect, honesty, and deep affection, and I doubt a ring on your finger will ever change that.”

Patricia smiled, an action that prickled Cassie’s skin more than the biting bluster of the wind. “Yes, I do believe Jamie respects you a great deal, and there’s no doubt his affection for you runs deep . . .” She paused, a sliver of pity in her eyes. “But I’m afraid his honesty where you’re concerned, Miss McClare, leaves something to be desired.”

“I’m leaving,” Cassie whispered, attempting to pass.

Patricia’s hand cinched her arm like a vice, fingers dug into Jamie’s coat like her claws were dug into the man. “Why? Afraid of the truth?”

Cassie paused, keeping her temper at bay. “No, not as much as you, apparently.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Miss McClare,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “You see, I know the truth, but I love Jamie anyway. I’m not sure you could say the same.”

Goose bumps skimmed Cassie’s body despite the warmth of Jamie’s coat.

“Yes, I know Jamie considered courting you,” Patricia said, “but I also know why he isn’t.”

The air clotted in Cassie’s lungs, as thick as the pity in Patricia’s tone. “It’s an issue of sharing the same faith, Miss Hamilton, but I fail to see what business that is of yours.”

“The same faith, yes,” she said smoothly, as if their conversation were no more than exchanging niceties over tea, “and the fact you don’t have the most important thing Jamie MacKenna needs and the one thing he wants more than love.”

Cassie clenched her fists at her sides, afraid she’d be tempted to smack the smirk off the woman’s face. “And what’s that, Miss Hamilton, your favors?”

“No, Miss McClare,” she said quietly, her tone actually humble. “My money.”

Ice slithered through Cassie’s veins, freezing the words to her tongue.

“Oh, I was worried you had him,” she continued, fidgeting with the cashmere shawl she wore over her lavender dress, “until I discovered your family is broke. When Jamie realized that, I’m afraid there was no decision to be made.”

Cassie’s lips parted to speak, but the words slowed to a crawl, escaping as a hoarse crack. “I don’t believe you.”

“No? And when exactly did his affections cool?” she asked, one perfectly manicured brow angled high. “I’ll wager it was after Napa, when I told him you were as poor as he.”

Cassie’s eyes weighted closed while the breath whooshed from her lungs. The deck beneath her feet began to spin, and she grasped for the stone wall, legs buckling. God, please—no . . .

“You see, Miss McClare,” she whispered, voice softening with empathy that hadn’t been there before. “I knew Jamie McKenna was courting me for my money, but I’ll wager you didn’t.”

No, I didn’t . . . Cassie turned away as hot tears sprang to her eyes, Jamie’s deception battering her heart as thoroughly as the waves battered the rocks below. Fists clenched on the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut as if to silence the drum of her pulse in her ears, the sound of shallow heaves from her throat . . . the echo of lies bludgeoning her mind. “And that’s the only reason?” she’d asked. “Yes, that’s the only reason,” he’d answered, and the awful weight of that untruth doubled her over, effectively wrenching a sob from her throat.

“Jamie is nothing if not ambitious . . .” Alli’s words returned to haunt with brutal clarity, and suddenly Cassie understood Jamie’s drive to win her over despite her unwillingness to play at his game. She was a McClare, after all, one of the wealthiest political families in California and he’d obviously pegged her from the start as a woman vulnerable to his charm. Nausea curdled her stomach at the fool she’d been, not once, but twice. Mark had broken her heart, yes, but Jamie had broken her trust and her spirit, wounding her soul so completely, she was loathe to ever see him again. She pressed a shaky hand to her mouth and in one heart-wrenching heave, slumped over the wall, head in her hands as sobs wracked her body.

Cassie flinched at someone’s touch. “I . . . never meant to hurt you like this, Cassie, truly,” Patricia said, “but I thought you needed to know.” Her voice suddenly wavered, fear threading her tone to reveal vulnerability for the very first time. “You see, I love him, and before you arrived . . . well, he cared about me too, as well as my money.” Patricia gave her an awkward pat before removing her hand. “Do you . . . do you understand?”

Cassie remained silent, her head hanging limp and body depleted. Yes, she understood. Patricia and Jamie were a matched pair—selfish and manipulative to the core.

“Well, I . . . I need to get back.” Patricia paused. “Are you . . . coming?”

She didn’t answer until she heard the rustle of Patricia’s dress when she turned away. “Wait.” Cassie spun around, flinging Jamie’s coat off her shoulders. She balled it up and threw it at Patricia, the shock on the woman’s face blurring from the tears in Cassie’s eyes. “Here, take his coat and take him too—you deserve each other.”

Patricia smoothed out the jacket and carefully draped it over her arm, her face a mask except for the faintest shadow of regret in her eyes. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Cassie, and I hope someday you’ll find it in your heart to forgive us.” With a stiff smile, she gave a short nod and made her way to the door, leaving Cassie to agonize alone.

Over a man she loved who betrayed her, a friend she trusted who deceived her, and a future deprived of them both. Tears slipped from her eyes and she pushed them away with a hard swipe, her anger surging like the waves on the shore. Forgive them? Maybe. But it would take time. And distance. She bowed her head as grief fisted her heart.

Oh, yes . . . miles and miles of distance.