Читать книгу Lone Star Courtship - Mae Nunn - Страница 11

Casey replaced the handset without a sound and returned her attention to the strikingly handsome man in her office. Rumpled and wrinkled and with a lock of hair drooping over his forehead, he was dangerously appealing. His shirt gaped open at the throat, revealing a flash of tanned chest that matched the sun on his face. An outdoorsman.

Probably a golfer. She’d always wondered at the intelligence of those who wasted their time and money chasing a dimpled ball with a metal club and called it sport. Yep, she’d bet he was a golfer.

He stared at her Post-its.

“My moments of Zen,” she explained.

“Zen?”

“You know, contemplation and meditation.”

He grinned at something he read, his profile alight with humor, deep with character. Her insides squirmed in the most delightful way.

“Is that why you collect them?”

“Not really, but it’s one of the nice benefits of the effort.”

He read out loud. “‘A mountain lion roared with pride after he’d eaten a longhorn steer. He made so much noise that a hunter shot him. Moral—when you’re full of bull, keep your mouth shut.’” He turned puzzled eyes to her. “I don’t quite get that one.”

“Hang around Texas for a while and you will.”

“In that case you’d better explain it to me now, as I have no intention of being here long enough to decipher colloquialisms.”

He won’t be around long. Hot dog!

Her heart thumped with relief. Then, just as quickly, it wilted with regret.

He won’t be around long. What a shame.

“So, your visit will be a short one?”

“That depends upon you, actually.”

He dropped into one of the visitor’s chairs, propped his leather case on his knees, ran his thumb across the combination lock several times and popped the lid open.

“I have a list of queries.” He lifted a handful of documents. “Until all are addressed satisfactorily, I will be underfoot, but not a moment longer.”

She leaned toward him, held out her hand and offered just the smallest smile.

“May I?” She used her most persuasive voice.

Seemingly unaffected, he shoved the pages beneath the lid, closed it and spun the lock.

“I’m afraid I cannot release those documents without written authority from my client.”

“And Savannah says I have starch in my shorts,” she muttered.

“Hmm…” He narrowed gray eyes and pretended to think. “If I’m interpreting correctly, you are saying my stiff demeanor may be induced by my undergarments. An interesting if uncomfortable visualization.”

She struggled to hold back a grin. He caught on quick.

“I meant no offense,” she apologized. Sort of.

“None taken. But I must observe company policy.”

She imitated his accent.

“Come now, Barrett. Surely it won’t break rule number one to share the subject of your queries?” Her pitiful effort probably resembled a chimney sweep more than the Queen Mum.

His eyes flashed and a wry smile curved very inviting lips. She couldn’t wait to share the news of this unexpected hottie with the four older sisters who constantly worried about Casey’s complete lack of a personal life.

“Jolly good cockney you’ve got there.”

“Thanks, that’s just what I was going for,” she lied.

One dark eye blinked so quickly it was impossible to tell if it was intentional.

Was he flirting? Her heart thumped.

Casey Hardy, get a grip. You are thirty, not exactly desperate. Yet. And this guy is a lawyer, for crying out loud. A wolf in sheep’s clothing however sharply dressed.

She gave herself a mental shake, uncrossed smooth bare legs beneath the desk and sat taller in her chair.

“All joking aside, tell me how I can cooperate. And I’ll make it my personal mission to get you on the next flight back to Merry Old England.”

Barrett flinched as if a stab of pain accompanied her comment. This woman was obviously anxious to be rid of him. Was this becoming a pattern in his life?

Casey leaned closer, her dazzling blue eyes filled with concern.

“Are you okay?” She’d noticed his discomfort.

“Yes, of course.” He looked down at his wounded palms, seized them as an excuse. “It’s just these scrapes. They’re fairly fresh and a bit painful still.”

“Here, let me get my first-aid kit.” She tugged a knob on her desk and began riffling through what was inside the deep drawer.

“That’s not necessary, really,” he tried to assure her.

“Oh, don’t be a martyr. A couple of those cuts look pretty deep. The least you can do is put some ointment and a Band-Aid on them. I’m sure I’ve got some in here somewhere.”

As she continued to poke through the jumbled contents, Barrett stole a close look at Miss Casey Hardy. She was a vision in cream and navy. Her springy dark curls fell across clear skin colored by the sun and a sprinkling of freckles. She wore only enough makeup to darken her lashes and add an inviting hue to the lips she puckered in concentration.

“Ah-hah!” She held a small tube and several wrapped plasters aloft. “Now, let’s see those hands.”

Before he could object she rounded the desk and stooped to get a good look at his injuries.

“My siblings don’t call me the Warden for nothing. Now, do as you’re told and you might get time off for good behavior.”

He let go a sigh of resignation and offered first one palm then the other. Her fingers were cool and gentle as she dabbed salve on the jagged lacerations, covering several with small strips decorated by brightly colored fishes.

As she applied the third plaster her incredible gaze met his. A spark of mischief lit her eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind Nemo and Dory. I keep these cute Band-Aids handy for my eleven nieces and nephews. There always seems to be a little one bouncing off the sidewalk.”

“Sounds like you have a large family.” Her touch was kind. It was easy to imagine her ministering to children.

“I’m the youngest of six. Since my brother and four sisters all have kids, I try to keep candy and first-aid supplies at hand.” She smoothed on the last dab, replaced the cap, tossed the tube on her desk and reached for a tissue.

“All done,” she announced as she cleaned her hands. “How about a lollipop while you tell me what you need and when you plan to be on your way.”

He resisted the urge to cringe again. Having a beautiful woman barely masking her desire to be rid of him really was a shot to the ego, especially given his recent romantic dismissal.

“If we could begin with the financials tomorrow and work through your business plan over the next day or so, I can easily make my flight on Friday.”

“Outstanding.”

She slapped her hands together and rubbed them as if his departure was a source of great anticipation. Then she stood and moved toward the door, signaling his company was no longer desired. If he didn’t make an exit soon, his self-confidence would be as battered as his palms. A cool shower, a cup of steaming chamomile and a few mindless minutes of public telly would wash away the day’s events so he could sleep.

“Yes, indeed.” He pushed to his feet and lifted his attaché, pausing for her to proceed first.

As she placed one very high heel before the other, it was impossible not to admire the woman. Though she was a vision of corporate life in dark navy, the expertly tailored suit was all female. The fashionably flared hem of her narrow skirt whisked the backs of her bare knees, drawing his eyes to firm calves and slender ankles.

“Oh!” Her head turned with a sharp snap, too quick for him to pretend he hadn’t been admiring her legs. Her lips curved at the corners. “Would you like company for dinner?”

Barrett warmed at the touch of her smile but knew it was nothing personal. Women naturally enjoyed male attention, didn’t they? Caroline certainly had. In fact she’d regularly reminded him it was her mission to catch the eye of every man in the room during social evenings. She relished the events while he attended the dreadful dinners only out of obligation and her insistence.

Another aggravation he wouldn’t miss. Sigmund had pointed out the breakup was probably a blessing in disguise. Maybe he’d been on to something.

“Barrett?”

He dismissed the train of thought and focused on the vision before him.

“Dinner, yes, of course.”

“What time would you like to eat?”

“I mean, no!” he blurted.

Her eyes widened.

“My apologies. What I meant to say was yes, thank you, but no, thank you. My unusual lunch will be with me for hours yet, so you don’t need to go to any trouble or change your plans for me.”

Her eyes glinted then narrowed as if amused. She lowered her chin to look at him over the rim of her glasses. She graced him with a fetching flash of blue through thick sable lashes.

“Actually, Cooper offered to carry you out for a steak. I can’t afford to take the evening off myself.”

“Well, there you have it then.” He backed toward the exit, feeling a fool for his assumption. “Makes sense you wouldn’t want to be caught dining with the likes of a barrister.”

“On the contrary, I eat with tax collectors and lepers regularly.” Her lips parted, flashing a white smile.

He grasped an imaginary dagger, pulled it from his chest with a soft “Ugh!” and offered it to her. “You should keep this for yourself. You’ll need it to carve your budget figures after we review the finances tomorrow. Cheers, Miss Hardy.” He turned toward the door, feeling fortunate to be leaving with the last word said.

“Oh, Mr. Westbrook?”

“Yes?”

“When you’re full of bull it’s best to keep your mouth shut.”

“Ahhhhhhhh…” He tapped his index finger to his temple and nodded. “Now I get it.”

Casey stood in the lobby of the Galvez Hotel and marveled over the turn-of-the-century opulence while she waited for Captain Jack’s delivery vehicle. She checked her wristwatch: 9:00 p.m. She should have called first, but it was on the way home and Captain Jack’s made the best fish and chips south of Keokuk, Iowa. Bringing Barrett something to eat was simply spur-of-the-moment Southern hospitality. At least, she hoped he’d believe that story.

From the moment she’d peeked through her window shade to watch his huge Cadillac cross the dusty construction site, the seed of a plan had begun to germinate. Her background in corporate quality told her it was too quickly conceived. But Father Time was like the girl in high school who’d tried to convince Casey a perm would actually straighten her hair.

The enemy!

She didn’t have the luxury of plotting carefully and applying Six Sigma analysis to find the defects in her plans. Instead she’d keep copious notes and review her progress each day as she moved aggressively toward her goal.

Project code name: Befriend the Brit!

Okay, so it was about as firm as a soup sandwich, but she’d made worse conceived notions work before. This would be a snap.

She’d drive him nuts with questions and develop a fascination for all things English that made her mistrust of the legal profession no longer seem relevant. She’d get to know him so well that she’d be poised to strike before he could derail her plans.

Or worse, hurt her family.

And then there was the side benefit of spending a few days with a man who was very easy on the eye. That would help turn this bitter pill into a jelly bean.

“Ma’am, is that the delivery you were expecting?” The bellman gestured toward the hotel’s circular drive. A mustard-yellow van bearing the likeness of a pirate waited with emergency lights flashing.

She paid the driver, carried the warm bag to the front counter and used the house phone to ring Barrett’s suite.

“Yes, h’lo?” His voice was raspy.

“Were you asleep, Barrett?”

“It’s…” There was a brief pause. “Four a.m. Of course I was asleep. Who is this?”

“It’s Casey. I’m so sorry to wake you. I didn’t consider the time difference.”

In truth, she knew his body was on London time, seven hours ahead. Step one of her plan was to catch him unprepared, get a glimpse of his true nature.

“I’ve come bearing gifts.”

“Gifts? At this unearthly hour?”

She smiled at the crescendo of disbelief in his voice.

“This unearthly hour is only 9:00 p.m. I didn’t want you going to bed hungry so I brought fish and chips.” She dangled the bait.

“Ale-battered?” The Brit nibbled.

“Probably.” She had no idea.

“With malt vinegar?”

“Of course!” Picky, picky.

“Cod or haddock?”

“I don’t knooooooow! If you’re not interested I’ll leave it for the security guard.”

“No! I’m fully recovered from the tamales and a bit of fish sounds spot-on. I’ll be waiting at the door of the Laredo Suite to tip the porter. And, Casey, thank you for such a thoughtful gesture. Quite civilized under the circumstances. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Civilized? Circumstances?

Did that refer to her feelings about his profession? Or something worse? Her curly roots prickled at the thought.

“No thanks required, Barrett. As we say at Hearth and Home, it’s my pleasure to serve you.”

She picked up the sack of food and headed for the elevators.

“And as they say in Texas, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, pardner!”

In his custom-made pajamas and favorite leather slippers Barrett made a groggy shuffle into the sitting room and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. As he drank deeply his eye caught the flash of color from the grinning fishes stuck to his hand.

Casey Hardy.

Was this interesting woman simply being kind or was she up to something? Caring for his cuts was one thing, but delivering dinner was another entirely. While the former act had been spontaneous, the latter was deliberate and required at least some planning. Within fifteen minutes of introduction, the lady had made her feelings about his mission quite clear. She didn’t like it. And she had given signals that she didn’t much like him, either. So what was driving her late-night concern for his nutritional needs?

A light tap, tap, tap signaled the arrival of the bellman. As Barrett pulled the door open he caught an enchanting scent, not at all the fish he was expecting. And the reason for that stood before him, beguiling eyes gleaming as a small smile twisted her lips.

“Good evening, Barrett.” Her gaze swept his buttoned-up appearance. He self-consciously stepped behind the door so that only his head was visible.

“Forgive me, I’m not dressed for company,” he explained.

She waved away his concern, clearly amused by his modesty.

“It’s my fault for showing up at this unearthly hour.” She held a brown sack aloft. “But I think you’ll be glad I did.”

A mouthwatering aroma wafted across the short distance.

Mmm…English fish and chips! He imagined it…deep-fried, crispy batter drizzled with tart malt vinegar, dipped in creamy tartar sauce. The enticing thought made his spirit ache for the home eight thousand kilometers away. His stomach grumbled for food.

“Now that I think of it, I am a bit peckish. Why don’t you let yourself into the sitting room and I’ll be right out?”

He left the door standing open and slipped into the bedroom. When he returned with the hotel’s signature pink robe belted securely, she was sitting at the small table. The large paper sack had been torn open at the seams and flattened as if a table topper to protect the polished surface.

The woman was thoughtful. Something he’d become unaccustomed to.

As he settled into a chair with the table separating them, she filled two paper plates and chatted as though her appearance at his door was most natural.

“Thanks for letting me come up and share my dinner with you.”

“It’s not as if you gave me a choice.”

She cast her eyes downward in a look of contrition he didn’t buy for a moment.

“Would you have turned me down if I’d called to ask?”

“Probably…” He smiled when her head popped up at the answer she clearly was not expecting. “…not,” he finished.

Satisfied with the caveat, she continued.

“Late-night comfort food is meant to be shared. It’s a Hardy family tradition. Actually, it’s more of a weakness. Anyway, my condo is on the other side of the causeway, too far for Captain Jack’s to deliver. But the Galvez is smack in the middle of their zone, so here I am.” She halved a still-steaming filet and dragged it through the puddle of ketchup on her plate.

She closed her eyes to appreciate the taste, giving him the perfect opportunity to admire her smooth complexion and dancing curls. Where he’d ended the day as limp and wrinkled as an empty sausage casing, she was every bit as appealing as she’d been during their meeting in her office hours before. Then he recalled her attire at their introduction and realized this vision of perfection before him was only one perspective on Miss Hardy.

How many more were there?

“Ah, so this isn’t concern for my well-being, after all,” he observed.

Her gaze met his. He popped a vinegar-soaked chunk of cod in his mouth and waited.

“Sure it is. Partly,” she admitted, and then busied herself arranging a pile of chips. “I could have gone the other way and picked up fried chicken but eating alone is no fun. For either of us. And as long as you’re here anyway, I thought you could tell me all about London. I may have business to conduct there soon and I could use some expert guidance.”

“You’re asking a barrister for free advice?”

He couldn’t hold back the smile. She responded with innocent, wide eyes.

“Not entirely free. I paid for lunch and dinner, didn’t I?”

“True. Very true. And all selections have been enjoyable, so I suppose I do owe you. Why don’t you e-mail your questions to me and I will answer in a day or two when I have some quiet time.”

“Quiet time?” She cocked one brow. “Between me and the Cowboy Cartel you’re gonna experience America Texas-style for a few days and there’s nothing quiet about that. With luck you can have quiet when you’re back home this time next week.” She nodded and popped a fat chip into her mouth. The set of her chin said she expected no further argument.

So, she intends to have me under surveillance until she can get me out of town, does she?

Keeping her enemies close seemed to be more than a Zen Post-it for Casey. Well, two could embrace that philosophy.

And it didn’t hurt that this woman was the prettiest assignment he’d had for a long time.