Free Love at Any Cost by Julie Lessman Page B

Jamie at the other end of the table. “And it’s up to you to change her mind, Jamie old boy, so good luck with that.”
    â€œMaybe I won’t need luck,” he said softly, smiling at Cassie from across the table.
    Her cheeks warmed as his eyes fused to hers.
    Slowly sipping his chowder, he studied her, his perfectly chiseled jaw shifting with every chew of the clams, then swallowedand took a sip of his water, eyeing her over the rim. “I have a talent for changing people’s minds, you know.”
    And I have a talent for falling for skunks, but never again . . . Cassie stabbed at her salad a little too forcefully, meeting Pretty Boy’s eyes in silent challenge. The heat of his gaze could have wilted the lettuce, but she had enough hurt in her heart to ice it right back up again. She assessed the serious intent of his eyes, the quiet confidence in the faint slope of his smile, the relaxed posture of broad shoulders in a man who expected to get his own way. At one time his sculpted good looks and quiet resolve would have melted all resistance, but not anymore. She speared a lettuce leaf and smiled, her manner as cool as her heart. Change her mind?
    Not on your life, bucko.

 6 
    N ose in the air, Alli turned a page in a pretend book with great drama, and Jamie’s lips tipped in a smile. Alli had just acquired her teaching degree from San Francisco Normal School, but she missed her calling as far as he was concerned. Look out, Sarah Bernhardt.
    â€œA book, a book!” Maddie shouted, bouncing up and down on Uncle Logan’s knee with no little force, thrilled that she was allowed to participate in the grown-ups’ game of charades.
    Nodding furiously, Alli tapped her nose, then tugged on her ear. With a quick swipe, she leaned to tousle Blake’s hair, mussing it till it poked up in several places.
    â€œHey, no fair using the opposition for your advantage,” he groused, swatting her away.
    â€œMess up . . . dishevel . . . wrinkle . . .” Liddy fired guesses without mercy, perched on the edge of the sofa like a spring-propelled toy, ready to launch.
    â€œTousle, muss, rumple . . . ,” Patricia called out, not to be outdone.
    Alli jabbed at her nose and pulled on her ear before slapping three fingers on her arm.
    â€œThird syllable!” Maddie announced with glee.
    Alli stroked one arm as if touching silk.
    Almost gritting her teeth, Liddy clenched her fingers. “Feel . . . touch . . . skin . . .”
    â€œR-rumpelstiltskin!” Meg bounded up from the chair with a squeal.
    Alli cheered while moans circled the room from the opposition, and Jamie glanced at his watch, noting that Cassie had slipped out to the powder room a while ago. Amidst all the clamor of gloating and boos, Hadley arrived as if on cue, bearing trays of apple tarts with coffee and tea.
    Jamie leaned toward Bram, keeping his voice low. “Cover for me, will you? Cassie’s been gone awhile, so I’m going to round her up for dessert.”
    â€œSure you are,” Bram said with grin. “You mean dessert for yourself.”
    With a slap of his friend’s back, Jamie offered an off-center smile. “As fond as I am of apple tarts, buddy boy, Texas tart sounds pretty good right about now. Wish me luck.”
    â€œYou’re gonna need it, my friend. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    Laughing, Jamie ducked into the foyer, grateful for the commotion that allowed him to sneak out without notice. He poked his head in the study, kitchen, and conservatory before passing the empty bathroom on his way up the stairs. A smile slid across his lips at a shaft of light peeking beneath the burlwood door of Liam McClare’s prized billiard room where Jamie, Bram, and Blake spent much of their free time. He shook his head, his interest piqued now more than ever. Most women had no interest in billiards