this old cuss is just inviting you along so he’ll have a chance to outfish somebody for a change.” Doc elbowed Manny in the ribs.
“Well, there may be some truth to that.” Manny’s eyes glinted. “At the very least you’re in for a nice boat ride in the morning.”
Barrett nodded, sensing that more was in store for him than a boat ride.
“I see you gentlemen have been introduced.”
All heads turned toward the soft voice. The lovely creature gliding toward them in a chic navy suit, crisp ivory blouse and snakeskin pumps was a stranger.
Or was she?
“That’s a fact, Miss Casey,” George answered for the group. “And you left us alone just long enough for Manny to scare up a fishin’ trip.”
“Imagine my surprise.” When the dark-haired beauty smiled, turning azure-blue eyes on Barrett, he was no longer uncertain of the newcomer’s identity. Casey Hardy definitely responded well to a good scrubbing. She was stunning.
“Barrett, we’re pleased you could join us today. Shall we get right to work?”
She took her seat at the head of the small conference table. The men flanked her on both sides and Savannah sat at her right, tapping on a laptop keyboard.
While Casey and her contractors conducted business, Barrett listened and sipped tea sweet enough to make his teeth ache. To Casey’s credit, the meeting was to the point and efficient. She was clearly in charge, insisting on corrective action when a quality concern was brought to her attention. The men showed the young woman sincere respect and when the meeting adjourned each packed his attaché case with a list of directives from Casey Hardy.
“Where you stayin’, Westbrook?” Manny was organizing the next morning’s trip and it now seemed Doc and George would accompany them. “We’ll pick you up. Four a.m. okay?”
Barrett did the math. His body clock was set seven hours ahead and he had no intention of being around long enough for that to change.
“I shall be ready and waiting at the front door of the Galvez.”
“Nice old place.” Doc nodded his approval. “But if you’re going to be here more than a few days we need to break you out of there and set you up in one of our condo units on Tiki Island.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Barrett was adamant.
“Suit yourself.” The men left their contact cards, donned the matching cowboy hats and stepped out into the humidity.
Casey stood and gathered her notes.
“I realize it’s been a long day for you, Barrett, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to hear your objectives for this visit.”
Before he could answer, a phone began to ring in the next room.
“I’ll get that, Savannah.” Casey tucked pages into a leather binder. “Will you join me in my office, please?” The phone rang again and she dashed from the conference room, evidently certain he would comply.
“Better hurry, she won’t wait on you to catch up.”
“That’s the second time I’ve been told that today.”
Savannah grinned. “Welcome to the orbit of Casey Hardy. She spins fast and you’re either pulled in by her gravity or slung out into space. Either way, it’s a wild ride.”
Barrett stepped into the office with Casey’s name-plate on the door. She was already on her cell phone, a small pair of tortoiseshell glasses low on her nose as she referred to a spreadsheet before her. She gave him an apologetic smile and held up her index finger, indicating she’d only be a minute.
Unlike the well-appointed and spacious conference room, this work area was small. The desk and credenza were piled high with files. A desktop as well as a laptop were booted up within arm’s reach, appointment reminders flashing on both monitors.
“Organized clutter,” he noted, and couldn’t help wondering if that was the way her mind operated.
A whiteboard covered with brightly colored Post-it notes hung at eye level to the left of the desk. He was delighted to find the handwritten words were quotes. Being a fan of a well-turned phrase, he’d always had an appreciation for words of wisdom that stood the test of time. Right in the middle of the board was a phrase that caught his attention and almost took his breath.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Chapter Three
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.