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before. Then he recalled her attire at their introduction and realized this vision of perfection before him was only one perspective on Miss Hardy.
    How many more were there?
    â€œAh, so this isn’t concern for my well-being, after all,” he observed.
    Her gaze met his. He popped a vinegar-soaked chunk of cod in his mouth and waited.
    â€œSure it is. Partly,” she admitted, and then busied herself arranging a pile of chips. “I could have gone the other way and picked up fried chicken but eating alone is no fun. For either of us. And as long as you’re here anyway, I thought you could tell me all about London. I may have business to conduct there soon and I could use some expert guidance.”
    â€œYou’re asking a barrister for free advice?”
    He couldn’t hold back the smile. She responded with innocent, wide eyes.
    â€œNot entirely free. I paid for lunch and dinner, didn’t I?”
    â€œTrue. Very true. And all selections have been enjoyable, so I suppose I do owe you. Why don’t you e-mail your questions to me and I will answer in a day or two when I have some quiet time.”
    â€œQuiet time?” She cocked one brow. “Between me and the Cowboy Cartel you’re gonna experience America Texas-style for a few days and there’s nothing quiet about that. With luck you can have quiet when you’re back home this time next week.” She nodded and popped a fat chip into her mouth. The set of her chin said she expected no further argument.
    So, she intends to have me under surveillance until she can get me out of town, does she?
    Keeping her enemies close seemed to be more than a Zen Post-it for Casey. Well, two could embrace that philosophy.
    And it didn’t hurt that this woman was the prettiest assignment he’d had for a long time.

Chapter Four
    A t 4:00 a.m. the lobby of the hotel was hushed. Only the squeaking of Barrett’s rubber soles against the granite floor broke the silence.
    â€œGood morning, sir.” The concierge spoke softly.
    â€œMay I offer you some coffee?”
    â€œThank you, no. I consumed an entire pot in my suite hours ago.”
    â€œTrouble sleeping?”
    â€œActually, I slept quite comfortably even considering the amount of fried food I ingested yesterday. My body clock is still adjusting to the time difference so I’ve been wide-awake and working for hours.”
    â€œThere you are, Westbrook!” a male voice boomed. Doc Moseley stood in the hotel’s grand entrance, sporting a Cowboy Cartel cap, his boots planted wide as he waved Barrett over.
    â€œLet’s get a move on before the wind kicks up any more. The marina’s gassin’ up the Albemarle right now and the bay’s gonna be rougher than a cob pretty soon.”
    â€œAre you sure you wouldn’t prefer to reschedule?”
    â€œMercy, no! As long as the good Lord provides a new sunrise I’ll always pick the worst weather for fishin’ over the best weather for workin’!”
    Barrett stepped into the predawn darkness and basked in the ocean breeze that whipped his hair. Although fishing would never be his first choice, he had to agree with Doc’s assessment. The majesty of the open sea had never failed to produce an intimate connection with the Heavenly Father. Childhood holidays at the seaside with teeth chattering and a body prickled with gooseflesh were the fondest of all his memories.
    Just as he reached the cab of the enormous red truck with the interlocking “C” logo on the door, the darkened window slid down to reveal the passengers in the backseat.

    â€œGood morning, Counselor,” Casey chirped, more cheerfully than she felt.
    Barrett’s dark brows drew together a bit. The rest of his face remained impassive, seemingly not surprised to see her.
    â€œAh, so it is.”
    â€œCasey, scoot over toward George to make room for our boy here,” Doc instructed before climbing