“So the scholarship was your doing,” Jamie whispered, “not mine.”
The muscles in Logan’s face tightened as he leaned forward, fingers gripped on the edge of his desk. “Understand one thing, Jamie. My money and influence opened doors for you, no question, but it was your drive and intelligence that marked you as a cut above every other candidate vying for that scholarship. Yes, I paved the way, but you earned it, make no mistake.” Logan eased back in his chair, the sheen returning to his eyes once again. “And as God is my witness, I have never been prouder of anything or anyone more in my life.”
Emotion thickened in Jamie’s throat, but he warded it off with a press of his jaw. “A man approached me on the docks when I was sixteen, told me to come to the Oly Club and he’d give me a job.” He peered up, waiting for Logan’s response. “That was your doing as well?”
Logan exhaled and nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose as Jamie was prone to do. “Please understand—I didn’t want to just throw money at you, Jamie, like so many of the snot-nosed elite. You weren’t the kind of kid who would take to charity anyway, so I worked to find ways around it. The job at the Oly enabled me to introduce you to Blake and Bram, which in turn allowed me to spend time with you as well.” He paused, as if gauging Jamie’s reaction. “And, then, of course, I’m part owner of several establishments on the Barbary Coast.”
Jamie’s mouth dropped open. “The Blue Moon,” he whispered, almost to himself. He shook his head. “I always wondered why Duffy never batted an eye over my schedule, making allowances for me he wouldn’t do for anyone else.”
“In the beginning, yes, but it wasn’t long before he recognized your work ethic and unquestioned honesty, saw the caliber of man that you are. And I swear to this very day, Duffy thanks me every time I see him.” Logan drew in a deep breath. “The truth is, Jamie, you made the difference in your life, not me. All the money and influence in the world wouldn’t have made you the man you are today. You did that on your own, son.” He smiled. “You and your mother.”
Jamie nodded, unable to speak for the spasm in his jaw.
Body rigid, Logan leaned in. “Come back to the firm, Jamie,” he whispered, “not just because I need your legal skill, but because I need you—here—by my side.”
Muscles convulsed in Jamie’s throat. “As your son?” he asked, voice gruff.
Seconds ticked by while Logan stared, every tendon in his face as taut as his tone. “If that’s what you want.”
“And what do you want?” Jamie spit out, a flash of fury igniting his temper. “To go on as before, I suppose, doing what you do best—living a lie?”
Logan dispelled a slow exhale, his face a mask despite a flicker of pain in his eyes. “I deserved that, but no—I have my reasons for keeping silent about our relationship, but I will defer to you on this one, Jamie, you have my word.”
Twenty-five years of frustration and anger boiled over, spilling from his lips with such vehemence that Logan winced. “Your word?” Jamie said with a sneer. “And why do I feel that’s as flimsy as your reasons for keeping silent?”
The gray of Logan’s eyes glinted like polished steel, his temper going head-to-head with his son’s. “You may not respect me as your father, son, but you will respect me as your employer—is that clear?”
Jamie shot to his feet. “You’re not my employer, Mr. McClare, any more than you’re my father.” He stormed for the door.
“Jamie!”
He froze, the authority in Logan’s voice stopping him cold. “The McClare men are known for their tempers, but I’ve learned to master mine. I thought you had, too, but maybe not.”
Hand on the knob, Jamie ground his jaw so tight, he thought it might crack. He pivoted slowly, searing his father with a look that burned the walls of his eyes. “I had, but that was before I learned I was abandoned and betrayed by my father.”
A low chuckle rumbled from Logan’s chest as he canted back in his chair. “No question, the melodrama hales from the Kerrs. Sit down, Jamie, and let’s discuss this man to man.”
Heat blasted Jamie’s cheeks. The walls shook as he slammed the door hard, returning to his seat with fire in his eyes.
“Now,” Logan said with a jag of his brow, “every lawyer worth his salt knows the basic tenet of justice is both sides must be heard. That said, it would behoove you, counselor, to hear me out.” He rose and paced to the window, hands clasped behind as he stared into the street below, voice calm as if addressing a jury. “My reasons for keeping quiet are not as you suppose.”
He turned, eyeing Jamie with the same air of confidence he utilized in a courtroom, the barest wedge of sympathy in dark brows tented high. “First of all, it was your mother’s idea, not mine, to keep my paternity a secret. Granted, I was more than willing to go along in the beginning because as I said before, I was—and still am in many ways—a selfish man. But your mother made it perfectly clear she was worried that too much of my influence would insure you’d end up like me as a—and I quote—” a smile squirmed as he stared at the floor, hands clasped to his back, “ ‘a godless man about town who drinks like a fish and takes advantage of women.’ ” He peered up beneath shuttered eyes that held a hint of a twinkle. “Since you’re a man who goes to church with his mother and sister, seldom drinks, and has a mildly dangerous reputation with women that in no way can compete with his father’s, I’d say your mother exercised wisdom.”
Logan paused and drew in a loaded breath that he slowly expelled. The twinkle in his eye suddenly diminished, replaced with concern. “One of the reasons I didn’t fight her on this was the obvious—had I claimed you as my son, your mother’s privacy would have been impaired and her reputation ruined if it were known that Brian MacKenna’s son was, in fact, not only illegitimate, but not his son at all.”
Jamie’s eyes lumbered closed at the truth of Logan’s words, something he had never considered with all the anger seething inside.
“So, you see, Jamie, I didn’t make this decision lightly, I assure you, and to be honest, I now have a reason of my own as to why I prefer to keep this between us—at least for the immediate future.”
Opening his eyes, Jamie studied the man whose blood he shared. “Because I would be a burden?” he said calmly, issuing a thin smile.
“Hardly.” With a fold of his arms, Logan perched on the edge of the sill, regarding Jamie through narrow eyes. “I’m one of the richest men in the city if not the state. The truth is my so-called notorious bachelorhood has lost its appeal and family, quite frankly, has become the only thing that really matters to me anymore.” The edge of his lip lifted in the barest of smiles. “Trust me, claiming you as my son would be a joy, not a burden.”
“What, then?” Jamie asked, his curiosity piqued.
Logan rose and returned to his chair, slanting back to rest both his head and his arms. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath before he pierced Jamie with a starkly honest look devoid of all humor. “I’m in love with a woman I hope to marry, and to be truthful, she simply wouldn’t understand. I plan to tell her someday, of course, but I honestly believe if she knew now, it would ruin any chance I may have.”
Jamie blinked, totally caught off-guard by Logan’s candor. In love with a woman? Logan McClare? His mind scrambled for who it might be, suddenly realizing he knew very little about Logan’s social life. As far as Blake, he, or Bram knew, the man spent most of his time at the McClares’ with his family . . . Jamie’s heart skidded to a stop. No, it couldn’t be. His mouth dropped as he stared, never suspecting the rumors might be true. Alli always insisted her Uncle Logan had feelings for her mother that went well beyond fraternal, but Jamie, Bram, and Blake never believed it, figuring it was just Logan’s way with all women, including Caitlyn McClare. But staring at the blatant humility he saw in Logan’s eyes, Jamie knew Alli was right. He slowly shook his head, lips curving into a faint smile. “You may have to give up poker, sir.”
He smiled, relieving the tension in his fa
ce. “Among other things, but don’t think I wouldn’t consider it in a heartbeat.” His eyes sobered. “But the decision is yours, Jamie. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Jamie nodded. “I appreciate that, sir, but I think you’re right. A revelation of this nature would only hurt the people we love.”
“I agree—at least for the time being. But it’s important to me that I be a part of your life, son, as much as possible within the context of secrecy. Which means I’m asking you to come back to the firm.” He paused to draw in a deep breath. “Will you?”
Peering up, Jamie studied his father, the realization of what he shared with this man eradicating all anger for the first time, replaced instead by a sense of awe and longing. He gave a slow nod, not trusting himself to speak.
Logan’s exhale carried across the desk as he bent forward, the intensity in his eyes deepened by the respect and affection Jamie saw. “Good. Because bottom line is, son, you’re my flesh and blood and I love you. And I hope you know I would do anything to make you happy.”
Jamie thought of Cassie, and a sad smile lined his lips as he rose. “Thanks, Mr. McClare.” His voice sounded barren of hope and so very far away—just like his dreams of Cassie. “Trust me, sir—I wish that you could.”
“Jamie, it’s Logan, not Mr. McClare, and all you have to do is ask. Money is no object.”
Absently fingering the stiff felt of his hat, Jamie released a weighty sigh, fraught with regret and longing for a woman he couldn’t have. “I’m afraid money won’t fix this, sir, as much as I wish it could.” He glanced up, painfully aware Logan may well realize his dream of a union with Mrs. McClare, but Jamie would never realize his with her niece. “I’m in love with Cassie—my cousin,” he said with a somber face, “and not even you are powerful enough to change that.”
Logan blinked before a slow, languid smile spread across his face like the sun rising on a new day, his low chuckles reverberating like thunder before they rose to fill the room.
“You think this is funny?” Jamie asked, his frustration bristling all over again.
“A little.” Logan raised a palm to stall while his body shook with laughter. “It would appear we have yet another reason to keep our relationship under the hat.” He rose and circled his desk, irritating Jamie further with his all-too-casual air. “As a man who’s in love with his cousin, I suppose there is something you should know.” Smiling, he gave Jamie’s shoulders a solid grip before tapping his son’s face. “There’s not a drop of McClare blood in her veins,” he said with a crook of his mouth. “Because my brother didn’t just marry Cassie’s mother, mind you. . .” His smile eased into a grin. “But a beautiful widow with an equally beautiful little girl.”
32
Christmas with family. Cassie sighed. Was there anything better? Her tongue swiped at the whipped cream on her eggnog as she reveled in the excited chatter of cousins and family and people she loved. The warmth of the fire crackled and spit in the McClares’ cozy parlour while the heady scent of pine and wood smoke mingled with nutmeg and cinnamon from snickerdoodles still warm from the oven.
“Awk, Blake cheats, Blake cheats!”
A grin tipped Cassie’s lips as Alli leaned over Miss B.’s cage, schooling the parrot in yet another insult to make the family laugh, cheered on by Bram while Blake bested him in chess. Across the way, her parents’ laughter rose as brothers and sisters-in-law caught up with Bram’s parents on old times and the latest news, not the least of which was the miraculous revival of an oil field no longer defunct. With grins of anticipation, Meg and Maddie shook brightly wrapped presents that circled a glittering tinsel tree while Cassie snuggled deeper into the love seat, stockinged feet tucked beneath. Another wispy sigh feathered her lips. The perfect Christmas.
Almost.
With a gulp of eggnog, Cassie glanced at a mantel embellished with holly-berry greenery and scarlet stockings, feeling her holiday euphoria melt away with every tick of the clock. The eggnog roiled in her stomach as the minute hand inched toward eight. Rosie had cooked a feast for the senses and Christmas toasts had been made. Tradition followed with a reading of the Christmas story from the family Bible before games ensued. The night would be filled with feasting and fun until midnight when each would open a gift of their choosing. No question it had been a glorious day and was on its way to an even better night, but . . . Cassie nipped at her lip. If so, why were her hands sweating and the eggnog suddenly a lump in her throat?
One reason and one reason only. Pretty Boy Jamie MacKenna.
She drowned a groan with another rich slide of her drink, grateful Jamie had begged off dinner to celebrate Christmas Eve with his mother and sister. If only Uncle Logan hadn’t insisted he come later for games, it would have been the perfect evening. Cassie’s lips pursed in a flat line. Correction—the “perfect evening” would be not caring at all, which if Zane Carter got his way, would be the case come spring. Or at least Cassie hoped.
The night of the Bluebonnet Ball, Zane had asked to court her, and she’d told him she needed more time, but now she wasn’t so sure. Over four months had passed since she’d seen Jamie and yet her heart ached as if it were merely yesterday. She was tired of pining for a man who had deceived and betrayed her, a man with no faith in God. She could never trust him again, and suddenly the notion of courting Zane held great appeal as a buffer for her heart. Upending her eggnog, she placed the glass on the table and rose, brushing her lavender chiffon dress. Okay, it was settled—as of this very moment, she was courting Zane Carter.
“Hey, Cass!” Alli waved her over to Miss B.’s cage with a wicked smile. “Let’s teach Miss B. something nasty to say about Jamie.” She waggled her brows, and Cassie laughed as she strolled over. Rubbing her hands together, Alli grinned, her tone thick with conspiracy. “How ’bout ‘Jamie’s a polecat,’ ” she asked with a sparkle in her eyes.
Cassie’s lips twisted. “I prefer something from the rodent family, if you don’t mind.”
“Oooo—how ’bout ‘weasel’?” Alli poked a finger into the cage to get Miss B.’s notice.
“Not actually a rodent, but it does work,” Cassie said with a chuckle. She put a finger to her chin in thought, her smile as devious as Al’s. “ ‘Rat’ has a rather nice ring, don’t you think?”
“Oh, you’re right, and probably easier for Miss B. to say too.” Alli glanced up with a tilt of her head, smile dimming enough for Cassie to notice. “You’re okay, right?” she asked softly.
“Sure,” Cassie said, hooking an arm to her cousin’s waist. She kissed her cheek and gave her a misty smile. “I love you, Al, you know that? I think I missed you more than anybody.”
Alli rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop! Now I’ll have to teach Miss B. to say ‘Cass lies through her teeth.’ ”
Cassie pinched her. “It’s true, you little brat, although I don’t know why because you give me so much grief.”
“But not as much as the ‘rat,’ right?” She turned to the parrot. “Okay, Miss B.—try this on for size. ‘Jamie’s a rat. Jamie’s a rat. Jamie’s a rat . . .’ ”
Arm to Al’s waist, Cassie rested her head to her cousin’s while Al worked with Miss B., her grin softening into a smile as she thought of the “rat.” She supposed she owed the “rat” a note of thanks for teaching her something it had taken a lifetime to learn—that people may reject you, but God never would. When she’d gone home to Texas, Jamie’s rejection had been raw, inflicting a pain deeper than anything she’d ever known. Yes, returning to face a town and a fiancé who had rejected her on the heels of Jamie’s betrayal had nearly leveled her, but it also brought her to her knees before God. That’s when she’d finally learned that it was God’s approval she needed, not man’s, God’s love that would set her free, not Jamie’s. She released a wispy sigh. Aunt Cait’s layer-cake analogy in a nutshell—that without her faith in God, she would never fully be satisfied or enriched in anything she did, especially in relationships.
“Awk, Jamie’s a
rat, Jamie’s a rat . . .”
Cassie laughed, delighted with the antics of Miss B. and the fact God had brought good from the pain the “rat” had caused. It made it a lot easier not to fall apart when she finally saw him again, and certainly easier to forgive him. Her lips quirked. Although she wasn’t about to let him know that anytime soon. A little groveling never hurt anybody, especially a pretty-boy polecat way too sure of himself. She inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. Bring the pretty boy on, God. I’ll hog-tie him tighter than the presents under the tree.
“Mr. James MacKenna,” Hadley said with great ceremony, and Cassie’s arm dropped from Alli’s waist like a sack of potatoes from a three-story barn. She swallowed hard, knees buckling while the eggnog frothed and swirled inside worse than whitecaps on the bay.
“Thanks, Hadley.” Jamie strode into the parlour with a broad grin, toting a box brimming with presents. “Merry Christmas, all,” he said while return greetings sailed through the air.
“Jamie!” Maddie flew across the room, tackling him with a squeal as he put his presents under the tree. “We’re going to play the white elephant game—wanna play?”
“Sure, squirt.” He scooped her up to deposit a kiss to her nose. “Got something special for you, kiddo,” he said, grinning when she wobbled like a drunken sailor after he set her back down.
“Oooo . . . did you bring something for me too?” Alli moseyed over to give Jamie a hug. She ruffled his thick dark hair until a stray curl toppled.
He slapped Alli’s hand with a mock scowl. “Nope, Blake said he got you a lump of coal, so I figured you’re all set.”
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