Lone Star Courtship (12 page)

“Please, Barrett. Take it.”

His gaze was fixed on hers. The expression from a few minutes earlier was back. Crinkles radiated from the outside corners of his eyes. It could have been aggravation, confusion or even agreement. The man was impossible to read.

“Miss Casey, you ready to go?” Cooper stood a discreet distance away.

She withdrew from the comfort of their innocent contact and stepped toward the table to gather her belongings.

“Go ahead, sir,” Barrett said to Cooper. “Casey's riding with me. I'll escort her back to her home.”

“Perfect,” she agreed. “Then I can change and head straight over to the site to make sure everybody's called to the job and we're back on track.”

“Cooper, would you be kind enough to handle that today so your boss lady can get some rest? To be blunt, she doesn't appear to have slept well, if at all.”

Her head snapped up at his take-charge manner. Normally she'd construe such comments as fighting words. But she had to admit he was dead right. If she didn't get some REM sleep soon she was going into a full-blown meltdown the next time the stress level cranked up.

“Truth be told, Mr. Westbrook, that's actually my job. Miss Casey likes to tell me how to do it, but she usually knows what she's talkin' about so I don't object. Much.”

“Now hear this.” Casey cupped her hands around her mouth, megaphone-style. “You're both right. Enjoy the moment because it may never happen again. Cooper, I'm getting out of your hair for the rest of today.”

“And tomorrow,” Barrett added.

Her hands fell limp at her sides as the hope in his eyes made her heart beat at double time. What did he have in mind? Business or pleasure?

Wake up and smell the prison chow before it's too late, Warden.

She could hear her brother's voice, encouraging her to let up on the gas. To take some time to enjoy life and the salary piling up in her bank account.

She'd known he was right, but she'd always believed there was plenty of time for that. She was young and had at least thirty-five work years ahead of her. What would a couple of days away from the job matter?

Especially when the man she loved would be gone by the weekend.

Gone.

Back to life on another continent with her dreams and now her heart in his hands.

A
blast of cool air welcomed Casey back into the condo. She dropped down to the sofa, eased off her Manolo's and positioned the outrageously expensive heels on the low coffee table. Her gaze fell on the Bible and concordance still open from her late-night study. How nice it would be to take refuge in the Word and give up the pressures of her job for a while. Maybe Barrett was on to something.

“There's
nothing
in your fridge but diet soda,” Barrett called from her kitchen. “What on earth do you do when you get hungry in the middle of the night?”

“Drink a Fresca and pop a couple of breath mints.”

“No wonder you're so thin.”

“You sound like Savannah.”

“Since I find your girl Friday to be exceedingly competent and resourceful, I shall take that as a compliment.”

Casey had to smile at the muffled quality of Barrett's voice. His head was buried in the pantry in search of food. He'd offered to take her out to lunch but she'd declined. It took effort to keep her eyes open. She couldn't afford to add “falling asleep face-first in her soup” to the long list of shortcomings amassing against her.

Ice rattled in a glass in the next room where he'd evidently made himself at home. Amazing how he'd acclimated in the few days since his arrival. The stuffy, demanding stranger who'd appeared on Monday had morphed into a casual, helpful friend.

Friend?

Yes, he'd become a friend. But she wanted so much more from him. She wanted Barrett for her best friend. For her soul mate. For her love.

She leaned her head against the cushion and closed her eyes. She heard his footsteps cross the tiled kitchen floor then become muted by the thick carpet. A glass clinked as he set her cold drink on the table.

“Don't fall asleep quite yet,” he instructed. He gave her shoulder a soft nudge. “Take my hand. I'll help you up. Go get out of your suit and into your bed so you can rest comfortably.”

She opened her eyes, once again shocked by the realization that she had the personal attention of this attractive man. Of course, there was still the chance that the primary objective of that attention was to confirm she was out like a light so he could resume his work. Work that would decide her fate.

Suddenly a nap didn't sound like a wise idea. She needed to keep an eye on him.

“Nope.” She shook her head and swiped at the hand he offered. “I can't justify going back to bed in broad daylight when I'm not sick.”

“Sick is precisely what you will be if you don't get some sleep.”

He grasped her hand and tugged, as if hauling her to her feet took no effort at all. Turning her about-face, he gave her a push toward the hallway.

“I'll lock the door from the inside when I see myself out.”

“No, don't.” She shook off fatigue. She had to distract him from his mission.

“Don't lock the door?”

“Don't leave,” she almost pleaded.

He smiled, kindness filling his eyes.

“But you need to rest, my sweet Casey.”

Oddly, neither the tone nor the endearment made her feel patronized. Coming from Barrett, it was comforting. And for that reason she wanted him to stay. She wanted him near. She desired his presence, if only for the days that were left.

“I need your company more. Stay for a while longer. Please, Barrett.”

“As you wish.”

Gratitude washed over her like a sudden, unexpected rain shower. When had she become so needy?

Instead of continuing on to her bedroom to change, she turned back to Barrett, stepped close and wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated ever so slightly before encircling her in his embrace. He pulled her tight, tucked her head beneath his chin and released a long breath from deep inside.

“Casey, bear with me, please. I have no idea where God will lead this but I have a clear notion of where I hope it will go. Like all of Texas, this is uncharted territory for me. I have to find my way slowly so I won't make a mistake and forget my purpose for being here.”

With her ear pressed to his chest, the hard thumping of his heart was impossible to ignore. But his words were equally undeniable. The man was seeking his purpose, his role within the family who'd given him education, opportunity and trust. He wouldn't let anything overshadow that. Realizing he loved his family as deeply as she loved hers only served to make her want him more.

And instead of doing what her heart desired, tipping her face up to ask for his kiss, she whispered, “I understand completely,” and then made her way to her room to change.

The door clicked shut behind Casey and Barrett shot both hands through his hair to rest on the back of his neck. What would Sig have to say about all this? Would he laugh his fool head off over this unpredictable affair of the heart and say “I told you so”? Would he encourage his Oxford chum to enjoy the moment and not expect too much from it? Or would he admonish Barrett to keep his eye on the ball, get the job done and get out of Dodge?

Dodge?

My word, I'm starting to think like a cowboy! This place is wearing off on me!

He picked up the icy drink he'd prepared for Casey and drank it down as if that would extinguish the wildfire growing inside his heart. Before he put the first word of a recommendation on the page he knew instinctively he was in a no-win situation. Not only was there no way to win, there was certainly heartache to be found. He hadn't kept relationships to the surface all these years to let things get out of hand now. And in Texas of all places. The last location on earth where he had any reason to be for more than a few days tops.

He needed to return to the solid cliffs of Tintagel to regain his perspective. Everything he valued, everything he loved was in England.

Everything…but Casey.

“I know you want to leave, but would you sit with me for a while? Just until I doze off?”

Where an accomplished female executive had passed through the doorway only moments before, not much more than a girl stood now. Dressed in an Iowa State Cyclones T-shirt and baggy jeans, Casey padded toward him on feet covered by striped red-and-green socks. Beneath her arm she carried a blanket and pillow as if headed for a primary school sleepover.

“Of course I will,” he agreed, unable to refuse her.

He took the bedding and stretched it over the comfy sofa, positioning the pillow at the far end. When she settled into the deep cushions and pulled the blanket up to her chin, colorful toes popped out the bottom. He removed the daily news from a Queen Anne side chair and prepared to take a seat.

She shook her head. “Not there, over here. With me.” She patted the sofa. “I feel the shivers coming on and that's a bad sign. When this used to happen before Savannah would hold my feet in her lap and that helped me fall asleep.”

The quiver in her voice was barely perceptible, but he heard it.

“Would you mind?”

“Not even the least bit,” he assured her. “In fact, a close encounter with Pippi Longstocking has always been my secret wish.”

She pulled her knees to her body, making room for him to sit then stretched her legs so her feet barely grazed his thigh.

“Oh, do stop playing chicken.”

Hoping to ease her obvious discomfort he grabbed Casey's ankles, tugged her closer so her heels rested in his lap and then began to massage her soles with the pads of his thumbs.

She brought her hands from beneath the cover and pushed it to her waist but continued to clutch her fingers together as if to prevent them from trembling. Her sleepy gaze was almost sad, filled with apology.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

She complied, a weak moan escaping with her breath. The sound of longing threw him off balance, much as her unexpected hug had before. As he worked the stress out of her feet he chatted to normalize the unusual closeness that was settling between them.

“Did you know that the lines on the bottom of your feet were developed before you were born?”

“Huh?” Her eyes fluttered halfway open.

“It's a stamp of individuality, just like a fingerprint.”

“I think I've heard that,” she muttered as her lids drooped.

“And the sole of the foot is covered by the most dense skin on your body.”

“That so?” The two syllables barely made it past her lips. Beautiful lips he wanted desperately to kiss.

“Yes.” He kept up the unnecessary rambling. “The pressure of our weight makes the skin thickest there.”

No comment.

“Casey?”

No response. Her breathing had grown slow, steady and deep. He reached his hand to cover hers. The skin was cool where the blood had left her extremities. Probably part of the physical symptom that she said caused her hands to tingle. As his warmth enveloped her, she stirred a bit in her sleep. The tension in her hands abated, her grip relaxed and something fell from her grasp, rolling to the sofa and then bouncing to the floor. Barrett leaned to get a look at what she'd been holding so tightly.

There on the carpet lay his coin with the fish symbol stamped into it.

Casey's neck hurt and her nose was mashed against something itchy. In the distance there was singing and a wonderful smell. Tentatively, she cracked one eye open. The room was dark. Rolling over, she looked for her bedside clock and the bottom dropped out from under her. Arms flailed as she grabbed for security.

“What the—” Her comment was cut off by a resounding
whump
as her backside made contact with the hard floor.

“Ow!”

She kicked at the blanket that had her pinned between the legs of the sofa and the coffee table.

The overhead light blazed and she squinted against it.

“Good evening, Sleeping Beauty. You must be famished.”

Either an angel or Barrett loomed above her with a halo of light surrounding his head. Undeterred, she squirmed to free herself from the cocoon.

“Be still and let me assist.” Humor laced his voice. He moved the table back a foot and squatted to untangle her legs from the duvet. Once she was free, he took hold of both hands and pulled her upright.

“There. Good as new,” he pronounced.

She twisted to take in her surroundings, finally remembering falling asleep on the couch. And from the crick in her neck, she'd been there for quite a while.

“What time is it and what are you still doing here?” she snapped.

He ignored her rudeness and turned back toward the kitchen. As he walked away, he slung a white dish towel over his shoulder.

“It's almost eight and I've left and come back twice. It took two trips to find everything I needed to prepare this meal, so you'd best eat every morsel. Savannah, you may open the shades now that Her Majesty has arisen.”

“Hey, girl!” Savannah called. “Glad you woke up in time to join us. We'd decided to give you fifteen more minutes, then start without you.”

“I'm sorry I held you two up from your hot dinner date.”

Savannah poked her head through the serving window that connected the kitchen to the dining area.

“For a lady who's been drooling in her sleep the whole day while her two friends have shopped, chopped and grilled, you're a little on the grouchy side.” She held up a chip covered with chunky guaca-mole and prepared to pop it into her mouth. “Go get your hair under control and then come see what we've whipped up. I guarantee it'll put you in a better mood.”

Casey ducked her chin, letting wild locks cover her face as well as her embarrassment. Okay, she
was
being cranky but the whole situation was awkward and griping just seemed like the best way to handle it. Maybe she should gather up her pillow and blanket and call it a night instead of making the effort with dinner companions.

Barrett returned carrying a chilled mug of lemonade and a serving tray piled high with coarsely chopped
Pico de Guio
and blue corn chips. The aroma of cilantro and diced tomatoes turned Casey's empty stomach into a noisy beggar.

Barrett smiled, clearly pleased with her tummy's uncontrollable reaction.

“That's the affirmation every chef hopes for. Care to join us on the patio?”

She accepted the glass, eagerly shoveled in a scoop of fresh salsa and spoke with her mouth full.

“Ooh, this is heavenly.” She grabbed a couple more chips and moved toward the hallway. “Just give me a few minutes and I'll be right there. Don't start without me,” she called as she locked herself inside the bathroom and turned to the vanity mirror.

The creature who stared back was right out of a horror flick. Medusa spirals shot in every direction and for the second time that day the imprint of the sofa was embossed across her nose and cheek. She looked like Freddie Krueger on a bad hair day! She splashed her face with cool water to rinse off dried saliva—Savannah hadn't been joking—and squirted Visine into itchy eyes.