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marrying the Cassidy woman. He says he trusts her.” J.D. made a disparagingsound. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, son. I understand you’ve made contact with Lily Cassidy’s daughter.”
    Parker’s eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, his only indication of surprise. “I suppose you could call it that.”
    â€œThink you can get close enough to her to make her see reason?”
    Parker knew how J.D.’s mind worked. By “reason,” he meant whatever suited him in his efforts to win the most money, the most assets, the lion’s share for his client.
    â€œI don’t think so, J.D.”
    â€œYou kissed her.”
    Parker didn’t even try to hide his reaction to that one. Did the man have spies?
    J.D. smoothed a hand down the length of his tie. “I happened to be on that garden path last week. She looked pretty…shall I say, pliable.”
    Parker clenched his jaw. “She’s refusing my phone calls. The flowers I sent her were returned to me, wilted.”
    â€œSo you’re already on it.”
    J.D. turned to go. Accustomed to his father’s dismissals, Parker quickly strode the remaining distance to his car door.
    â€œParker?”
    He looked up, one foot already in the car.
    J.D. was watching him, eyes narrowed, his gaze cool and steady. His father had an uncanny ability to assess a person, a situation, a half-truth or an out-and-out lie. As a kid, that look had made Parker feel like a germ under a microscope. It still did.
    â€œCheck your calendar and let me know when you have an evening free,” J.D. said. “I’ll have my cook broil some steaks. You look like you could use a cattleman’s cut, medium rare.”
    Parker hadn’t planned to smile. “I’ll do that, Father.”
    J.D. smiled, too, but only briefly. And then he headed for the office. The father-son moment was over. It was business as usual.
    Â 
    An hour later Parker strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His windows were down, but there wasn’t much air moving in downtown San Antonio today. Consequently, the plush leather seats felt at least a hundred and five degrees.
    Come on, come on. He was parked along Smith Street, two car lengths away from a storefront painted a subtle charming beige. Two women, probably a mother and her grown daughter, had left a few minutes ago, arms filled with books and bags, heads undoubtedly filled with wedding plans.
    It was twelve o’clock on the dot when he got out of his car and headed for the building bearing the sign The Perfect Occasion. A wind chime jingled softly when he opened the door, and air that was slightly cooler greeted him.
    Hannah glanced up, the ready smile on her face suddenly looking a little less steady. “Parker, what are you doing here?”
    He strolled farther into the room, the epitome of nonchalance, a hand on one hip, the other fiddling with a clasp he picked up off her desk. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop in and say hello.” He failed to mention that Ryan “just happened” to drop the name of Hannah’s business in passing that very day. He paused. “Is your air-conditioning on the blink?”
    â€œNo, why?”
    His gaze made a quick trip over her sleeveless dress.She appeared cool and comfortable. “Never mind. I’m on my way to lunch. Care to join me?”
    He could tell from her expression what her answer was going to be. Raising a hand, he said, “Would it sway your decision if I told you how much trouble I went to and how much time I spent juggling appointments so I could just happen to be in the neighborhood right now?”
    â€œIf you would have called first,” Hannah said, straightening pamphlets lying on her desk, “I could have saved you the trouble.”
    â€œThat’s a marvelous idea. I should know. I’ve tried it. You won’t take my calls.” He