Lone Star Courtship

“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.