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

stiff planes of his face relaxing into a shadow of a smile. “All right, okay—you’ve made your point, ladies, and I apologize, Miss McClare, for losing my temper— again .”
    The smile the woman gave him spiked his temperature at leasttwenty degrees, causing the skin under his collar to break out in a sweat. “So, Mr. Barone, long e ,” she said with an extension of her hand. “Shall we try this again—one more time?”
    Resigned, he shook his head and laughed, a slow grin sliding across his lips. He reached for her wrist rather than inflicting pain on her sore palm and pressed his thumb to her pulse, grateful it felt as erratic as his. “As long as there are no sticks involved, Miss McClare.”
    “Or hat pins,” Miss Penny said with a proud smirk. “Those two ruffians are sporting more holes than my best colander, I can promise you that.”
    Nick jagged a brow. “Two?”
    Miss McClare grinned, the glow of pride in her eyes as blinding as Miss Penny’s. “I actually poked them both, and I do believe I drew blood a number of times.”
    “Is that a fact?” Slipping his hands in his pockets, Nick lowered his head to emit a soft chuckle, wondering if maybe he hadn’t underestimated the little spitfire. Pulse finally calming, he glanced up, shooting her a shuttered smile that toasted her cheeks. “Good to know.”

7
    A llison hurried to keep up with Nick Barone’s long strides down the trash-littered sidewalk of Jackson. Her heart pumped with excitement from strolling through the devil’s lair—as Miss Penny called it—as much as from the detective’s breakneck speed. Athletic by nature, she usually had no problem keeping up, easily outdistancing Blake or Jamie in summer games of tag. But Nick Barone was a mountain of a man with less patience than her, evidently, when it came to achieving a goal or reaching a destination. Hands buried in his pockets, his trademark scowl was firmly in place, and she almost wished those two hooligans would chance a repeat encounter. She prided herself on being a strong woman who could take care of herself, but never had she felt so safe, so protected, so free as she did now, with him by her side.
    He’d said precious little since they’d left Miss Penny’s, apparently still miffed over his failed attempt to get her to file a police report once Miss Penny wasn’t around to defend. But Allison stood her ground, explaining her burning need to explore independence in her new life as a teacher, something that would be squashed in a heartbeat if her family found out about the incident right now. She was determined to keep it to herself until she could provethe cable car was safe. As long as she took it before dusk, that is, which she fully intended to do. Or at least until she could talk Mother into acquiring a firearm, something Miss Penny felt was advisable in a neighborhood on the edge of the Coast.
    Mouth compressed as stiff as his manner, Nick had allowed her to chatter ad nauseam for several blocks, his brooding gaze continually sweeping the doorways and alleys of the bars they passed. Occasionally he’d answer a question with a sideways glance and a faint smile, as if he found her amusing, but in no way did he afford her the courtesies she was used to with most men. Not the offer of his arm to escort her, the attentive interest of a suitor, or even the polite banter employed in social situations. Which was just as well, she supposed. Judging from the time she’d spent with him thus far, he was nothing more than a prettier, grumpier rendition of the type of men who tended to break her heart.
    Eyes straight ahead, he remained silent at an intersection to allow a horse and buggy to pass, giving Allison a chance to catch her breath and study him unaware. Without question, he was one of the most handsome men she’d seen, although his manners and short moods dispelled any attraction, at least mentally. But physically? A lump bobbed in her throat. When his thumb had