Lone Star Courtship (7 page)

There was no room in her life for such distraction, such fear. The store was on track to open in record time. If she could stay the course, she'd beat all of Guy's previous records and still secure the partnership of Barrett's client.

Barrett.

Casey's gaze swept the quickly gathering crowd in search of the Brit who was reassuring, handsome and charming in equal parts. And at the moment he was…

Gone.

B
arrett moved casually among the locals. The group continued to increase in size as word of the find spread. Several had cell phones pressed to their heads, acting as the island's town criers. Their excited chatter grew as each leaned over the haphazard excavation site to catch a glimpse of the crude contents.

“Will you look at that, Clayton?” one woman declared, tugging the checkered shirttail of her companion. “Nobody's laid eyes on it for hundreds of years. Don't you feel special?”

Odd what Americans considered old. They'd be positively enthralled with the well in the courtyard of his London townhome. Romans had dug and lined the well with stone a thousand years before. Now
that
was a hole in the ground worth peering into.

Clayton responded loud enough for everybody to hear. “Stoppin' these rich out-of-towners from chewing up another hunk of Texas history is what makes me feel special. Why, companies like this'd bulldoze and pave over the Alamo if they thought they could make a buck. And if we don't stand up and protect our heritage then our forefathers fought the American Revolution for nothin'.”

Barrett bit the inside of his lip. Not to keep from speaking, but to keep from smiling. These people didn't sound much different than he himself had only a few days earlier during his snobbish tirade with Sig. Hadn't he used much the same twisted logic when he'd tried to convince his father that a stint in the States wouldn't produce anything but confirmation that the Wild West was still wild? Had his father also stifled a grin knowing Barrett would encounter a little prejudice of his own?

Lord, thank you for giving me that smart old chap for my dad!
Barrett offered up in gratitude.

And now what was he to do with this new personal as well as professional insight? He could dispose of this mission quickly by returning to the construction office and combing the available files for further damaging details. Then he could have a quiet dinner as he wrote a report that would justly condemn moving forward with this deal.

Imagining the disappointment in Casey's eyes brought tightness to his chest. He brushed the dust from his trousers and the image from his mind.

As interesting as he found the lady and the Lone Star State, England and duty beckoned him home.

Business was business.

And this business was his last chance.

The construction office was silent when Barrett let himself inside. Carpet cushioned his leather soles as he returned to the conference area to retrieve his attaché case. He glanced toward Casey's open door as he stepped past and saw the beauty seated behind the desk with her slender hands clasped tightly atop her blotter. She'd freed her thick hair from the cap and rested her head against the back of the tall leather chair. With eyes closed, she whispered the Savior's name over and over, more a plea than a prayer.

What a stark contrast to the picture of control and efficiency she'd projected when they'd first met.

Could that have been only yesterday?
He'd spent months with Caroline yet he'd never seen as many sides of her as he had in one day with Casey.

Was it because Caroline lacked such depth? Possibly. A twinge of guilt shot through him at the judgment. In fairness, he'd done little to encourage her to reveal herself beyond social facets where she most definitely glittered.

Was it because the woman before him, undoubtedly in distress, was willing to expose her weaknesses? Unlikely. He was probably the last person on earth she wanted or expected to observe her at this moment. He backed away, prepared to turn from her door, when her eyes fluttered open.

“Barrett.”

She said his name in a disturbing manner, as if it were associated with finality. That's how he made her feel, as if all were lost? So, this is what the latest effort with Westbrook Partners would reveal; that he was the Grim Reaper. And if he went to the hotel and continued with the plan, was that what he'd be?

The killer of dreams?

Casey's
dreams?

“Sorry, I didn't think anyone was here,” he apologized. “I'll get my files and be on my way so you can deal with this unexpected turn of events.”

“There's no rush.” She sounded tired, defeated.

“Dad says this isn't the first time we've had to interrupt construction because of environmental issues, so it's not quite as bad as it seems.”

Was she making light of this grave concern for his benefit or her own? With a woman determined to call the shots and with so much at stake it was difficult to discern the difference.

“What will you do now?” As he said it he realized he truly cared about her answer.

He cared about this complicated young lady.

“We'll let the crew take some time off with pay while we investigate. Those guys have been working hard, sometimes seven days a week, so they deserve it.”

“And I'd lay odds you've also been on the job nonstop so this is an opportunity for you to get some rest as well.”

“My work
is
my rest.”

“With all due respect, it seems as though work is your distraction from rest…Warden.” He added the last with a smile, hoping she'd understand he meant it kindly.

Her hands relaxed. She lifted one and pressed it to her heart.

“Point well made,” she agreed. “Aimless downtime scares me but I seem to thrive on orderly chaos.”

“Then come with me. I have just the pandemonium you need to take your mind off this new development. I promise that afterward you will rest like a newborn babe.”

Unconcerned for the work that needed to be done or for the soreness and wounds from his tumble on the rocks of Tintagel, he stepped around the desk and held out his hand. She made no effort to take it and pressed closer to her chair. His heart withered a bit. He was not exactly a man about town, but neither was he accustomed to ladies shrinking from his touch.

“Oh, come now.” He thrust his hand closer. “It won't be as unpleasant as all that.”

With reluctance she slipped her palm into his and he gently tugged her to her feet.

“I'm not dressed for anything fancy.” She stated the obvious as she glanced down at her work boots and jeans.

He reached for her cap, spun it backward and tugged it over her head. Sable curls poked through the plastic fastener.

She was adorable. Her inviting lips only inches away.

He blinked several times to erase the disturbing thought. He really needed to wrap up business and get off this island, and out of this state known for extremes before he did something extremely inappropriate!

“Well, then. Let's be off.” He bowed slightly, swept his hand for her to go before him.

Casey paused at the exit to allow Barrett to get the door for her. So, this new-world all-American girl had some old-world expectations. An enchanting discovery.

He twisted the knob and as she passed he couldn't resist tugging a lock and watching it bob back into place.

It was the same gesture Guy always used; stretching a curl to the fullest extent to see it recoil like a spring. But Barrett's teasing touch had a much different feel than anything her brother had ever inflicted. Taking such a liberty seemed out of character for the stuffy man who'd appeared without warning a day ago. The offer of his hand had been a caring gesture and now he'd touched her hair, and not in a brotherly way.

At least she hoped not. Moments earlier the compassion in his eyes had made her chest ache. Maybe Guy was right. Barrett Westbrook didn't seem anything like the opportunistic attorneys who'd helped bring the personal injury case against Hearth and Home. If anything, this man appeared to be just the opposite.

She settled into his car. While he placed his briefcase in the trunk she sent up a prayer.

Father, instinct tells me Barrett can be trusted. Have You sent me someone who might understand what I'm going through? If this situation is not Your will, please close my mouth. I desperately need to talk to somebody besides Savannah.

He slid into his seat.

“Right, then. Let's be off.”

“Where to?” she asked as he tugged his seat belt tight and slipped on an expensive-looking pair of dark glasses.

“Must you have all details in advance, Nosy Rosey? Can't allow a chap the element of surprise, eh?”

“Sorry.” She pulled out cheap shades and adjusted them on her nose. “The surprise we just got was enough for one day, but if you say I can I'll trust you.”

“Dare I hope this means you've changed your mind regarding the legal profession?” He flipped the air-conditioner on high as they merged with midday traffic.

“American women are permitted to do that, you know.”

“My dear Casey, female prerogative is not limited to this country. If men are fortunate, they learn that valuable lesson early on. I credit my own dear mum's guidance with saving my brothers and me untold misery and confusion on that subject.”

“Tell me your brothers' names again?”

“Stanton and Colby. They're both younger and far wiser it would seem since they've been cultivating their fields of expertise for years and I've yet to even identify mine.”

“I still think you should consider teaching.”

“Too many generations of Westbrooks have served at the bar. For me to lecture on the law rather than practice it would be tantamount to treason.” He sifted thick dark hair through his fingers and shook his head.

“My family could not accept it and I would never ask them to.”

She nodded, understanding his point but from the opposite perspective. Here was an intelligent, extremely well-educated man who should be at the height of his career and instead he was still fluctuating on his specialization. By contrast, she'd known exactly what job she'd wanted for as long as she could remember having professional aspirations. By the time she was old enough to pay attention, Hearth and Home was already a market competitor. The family dream had made the bricks and mortar her reality.

And her own dreams began so early in life that she couldn't recall a time when she didn't intend to be at the helm one day. She hoped against hope that driving force was not at the root of the unnerving episodes that struck for the first time when she was a college freshman.

“Isn't it interesting that we come from very different backgrounds, yet our basic values are the same?” she noted.

He eased to an intersection light, pushed his shades up on his head and gave her his attention. “How so?”

“Neither of us can bear the thought of family disapproval.”

“Ah, so we can't. You suspect we're neurotic?”

“I'm positive I am. Savannah called me on it years ago. Give her another day or two and she'll diagnosis you, as well.” Casey grinned and he returned her smile. For the first time since he'd appeared, she relaxed. A gut check told her she had to ease up. She had no choice if she wanted the early-morning heebie-jeebies to be an isolated occurrence.

Barrett left the Strand and turned north on Holiday. Casey realized he was taking her back to the marina. The stiff wind that had accompanied sunrise had died down but the water was still choppy. Would he try to get her to sail again? She felt her nails dig into her palms.

“Don't get your nerves in a twist. We're only going for a stroll.”

She curved her mouth, knowing the smile and the behavior were lame.

He'd spotted her fisted hands. Was that because he cared or was it just another sign of his training? And what did it matter? He'd recognized her discomfort and tried to set her at ease. It was enough.

“Thank you.” It was her turn to reach out to him. She laid a palm gently on his forearm where he'd rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He took his left hand from the wheel and patted her fingers lightly. Re-assuringly.

“My pleasure.” He didn't withdraw from the touch.

For Casey, the moment that followed was as unsettling as it was comforting. His skin was warm where her fingers rested on his arm and the soft pressure of his hand on hers was so pleasant. Her heart thumped hard. She felt it in her temples, certain it had to show. There was a special something about Barrett. Something she wanted so much to believe in. A quality she'd never experienced. She was thirty years old and for the first time in her life she felt a…felt a…
connection.

Had she really only met this man? What would it be like to know him for a lifetime?

Now where on earth had
that
thought come from?

He returned both hands to the wheel, swung the big sedan into the visitor's parking area, made a wide arch and screeched to a stop astraddle two spaces.

She braced her feet against the floorboard.

“Quite an entrance, Dale Ernhart Junior.”

“Thank you. I've never operated a vehicle this large and it's going well, don't you think?”