Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel by Julie Lessman Read Free Book Online

“Al says he’s younger than Mr. Bigley, maybe thirty or so.”
    “Really?” Her mother gave Alli her full attention, eyes glowing with curiosity. “And . . . ?”
    Alli vented with a heavy sigh, knowing full well her mother wouldn’t rest until she had all the facts. Peering up, she wrinkled her nose as if she’d just swallowed one of the dreaded mushrooms Rosie was so fond of burying in the salad. “Oh, you know the type, Mother—tall, brawny, long on looks, short on personality.”
    Caitlyn blinked, her fork drifting to the side of her plate. “Oh my,” she said with a hint of worry in her tone, well aware of her daughter’s short fuse around men since Alli’s broken engagement to Roger Luepke. “You were courteous, I hope, Allison? After all, he is doing us a favor stepping in to help at the behest of Miss Penny, so I hope you hit it off.”
    “ ‘Hit’ it off? Oh, I think that’s safe to say, don’t you, Al?” Cassie bumped her shoulder against Alli’s with a mischievous grin.
    Allison swallowed a lump the size of the cherry tomato lanced on her fork. “Uh, sure,” she said and took a quick bite, smile tighter than the tomato now lodged in her throat.
    Her mother released a sigh of relief that could have ruffled the sheers on the windows. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said with a wide smile that matched the revelry going on among the others at the far end of the table. She squeezed Allison’s hand, the relief in her face evidence of just how important it was they succeed with this school. “After all, we have the privilege of being a light in a very dark neighborhood, girls, so it’s very important to make a good impression.”
    The tomato in Alli’s throat could have been an Adam’s apple as it dipped in her neck. The memory of whacking Nicholas Barone, long e , with her stick not just once, but three times, suddenly popped in her brain. A good impression? Oh, you bet. The tomato glugged as she swallowed it whole.
    On both shoulders and more . . .

4
    G ood morning, Nicky.” Miss Penny sailed into the kitchen at the unholy hour of six a.m., the smile on her face as blinding as the sunlight shafting through the double kitchen window. She promptly poured him another cup of the hot coffee he’d just brewed and kissed the top of his head. “It’s going to be another beautiful day.”
    He grunted. If you don’t have to trudge through the Barbary Coast on foot, tracking down slime. Or apologize to a spoiled rich kid with a sassy attitude. He tipped the mug straight up, the hot coffee scalding his throat as much as thoughts of Allison McClare scalded his temper. Eyes closed, he felt the burn all the way to his stomach.
    “Thank you for brewing the coffee,” Miss Penny said, retrieving a cup from the cabinet to pour some for herself. “Did you eat one of Mrs. Lemp’s cinnamon muffins, I hope?”
    He grunted in the affirmative, and she carried her coffee to the table to sit beside him, eyeing his empty plate that contained nary a crumb.
    “Good. Busy day ahead?”
    Blasting out a sigh that belonged at the end of a day and not the beginning, he rose to carry his dirty plate and mug to the counter, setting them down with a clatter. “Oh, you know—justthe usual. Following up leads on the robbery, investigating the murder at Dead Man’s Alley, butting heads with your nephew, groveling to a rich dame . . .”
    “Nicholas . . . ?” Her tone held a warning. “Allison McClare is not a ‘dame.’ She is a beautiful young woman inside and out, and I expect you to treat her with respect.”
    Beautiful? On the outside, maybe. He slung his suit coat over his shoulder, unwilling to brave heatstroke before Allison McClare could fry his temper again. “Maybe you should have this conversation with her, then. The woman has no respect for the law.”
    Miss Penny took a sip of her coffee. “Depends on whose law you’re talking about, Nicky. That of the city of San Francisco or a surly