Lone Star Courtship

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.”