by Lee Kilraine
By Lee Kilraine
You Can’t Hurry Love
Love 2.0
Crazy Love
Could This Be Love?
Bringing Delaney Home
You Can’t Hurry Love
A Cates Brothers Book
Lee Kilraine
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
By Lee Kilraine
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Margaret Klavik
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: September 2017
eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0217-4
eISBN-10: 1-5161-0217-7
ISBN: 978-1-5161-0217-4
To my sister, Terri. The most genuine and generous soul I know. There aren’t enough words to express how much you mean to me. I love you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my editor, Esi Sogah. For all the talent and hard work you put into my books to make them shine. Thank you.
To Norma Perez-Hernandez, Rebecca Cremonese, Randy Ladenheim-Gil, Kimberly Richardson, Michelle Forde, Lauren Jernigan. For all you do behind the scenes. Thank you.
To all at Lyrical Press and Kensington Publishing. Thank you.
To Terri. For all the time you’ve spent reading and critiquing my books. Thank you.
To my friend and CP, Jenn Hoopes. This journey wouldn’t be nearly as fun without you. You’re the best.
To all the readers who fell in love with the Cates brothers. Thank you.
To Jill Brittain, who named Delaney and Quinn Cates’s baby. ;) Thank you.
Chapter One
Paxton Cates was not in a good mood. When his phone rang at three fifty-six in the morning and he heard the voice on the other end of the line, he’d been tempted to hang up—but he knew there’d be hell to pay with his mother if he did. Which was why he was walking into the Climax Police Department at five forty-five a.m.
The new rookie cop he’d met in court the week before stood ramrod straight behind the front desk. He stopped and shook his hand. “Officer Davis. Are you the one who brought Ms. Joyner in?”
“Yes, sir. I made the collar.”
Paxton squinted one eye at him. “Right. What is she being charged with?”
Davis picked up a clipboard and handed it across the desk to him. “It’s kind of a long list. It’s probably easier if you just read the charges yourself.”
Huh. Captain America here made her sound like a hardened criminal. He took the clipboard from Davis, who seemed a bit too jazzed about the arrest. If he was looking for an adrenaline fix from fighting crime, he was in for a disappointment in Climax. Paxton nodded and moved toward the holding cell in the back. Officer Rojas was leaning against the bars of the cell, laughing with the prisoner.
“Rafe.” He nodded at him. “I’d like a few minutes with Ms. Joyner.”
“Sure thing, Paxton.” Rafe straightened away from the bars and winked in at her. “I’ll be back.”
Paxton grabbed a straight-backed wooden chair from along the wall and moved it to sit directly in front of the cell. He relaxed back and stared at his high school nemesis, Jolene Joyner. Jojo. Jo. The girl who’d found a way to annoy him almost every day in high school as if she’d put it on her to-do list. The sweet smile she’d graced Rafe with disappeared and her gaze narrowed at him through the bars. She still looked like the perky, hot cheerleader she’d been in high school. The black jeans and shirt she wore only highlighted her long, wavy blond hair. Not bleached; more like sun-streaked honey. And she had those big gray eyes she used to suck guys in and hypnotize them. He’d avoided that sad fate his whole life—he wasn’t going to fall for it now.
“Paxton.” She lifted her stubborn little chin at him. “What took so long? I called you almost two hours ago.”
“Jolene. Two hours? Really? Well, let’s see.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “I had to shower. And eat breakfast. I was going to scramble a couple of eggs to save time, but then I decided I really wanted pancakes. I make a mean pancake. I even heated up the maple syrup to pour over them. And then I had to drive here.”
“You live ten minutes away.”
“I made coffee. French press. That takes a little longer to get it just right.” He needed to let Jo know she couldn’t run him around like she did one of her adoring boyfriends. No sir. She’d had guys wrapped around her little finger for years. She broke a nail and the boyfriend du jour came running. Paxton wanted it clear she couldn’t wrap him up like that. “I had a Redbox movie to turn in or I would’ve been charged for another day. Please. Zombie Stewardesses was good, but not that good.”
“Oh, good. Are you sure you didn’t have a library book you could have dropped off at the night drop? We wouldn’t want you to have to pay an overdue fine.”
He didn’t bother to stop his grin. “Actually, princess, I dropped that off too.”
“Don’t call me that.”
That’s right. She’d always hated it when he did that, hadn’t she? Guess he’d forgotten. He let his gaze wander over her, meandering down and up the long length of her and watched her bristle like an angry kitten. They’d met in preschool when he’d cut off one of her pigtails. She’d burst into sloppy tears and he’d had to spend recess in the time-out chair. Instant enemies. The older they got, the less they got along.
Between college, law school, and a stint with an established law firm in D.C., he’d been away for over ten years. When he’d come back two years ago, they’d both discovered absence hadn’t made the heart grow fonder for either of them. Mostly they just gave each other a wide berth. “So, Jolene. It’s good to hear from you. How are things? How’s old . . . dang, what’s his name? Jason? John? Jeremy! How’s Jeremy doing?”
“Jeremy? I wouldn’t know. We broke up two years ago and he moved to Florida. Don’t you ever talk to your mot
her?”
“Sure I do. We just don’t talk about you.” Well, enough fun. He sat up and reached to the table behind him for the clipboard with her arrest paperwork. The first thing he saw made him smile. “No way. Your name is Jolene Jolene Joyner? I wish I’d known that back in middle school.”
He heard her huff of breath and grinned up at her.
“Mama was a big Dolly Parton fan. Laugh all you want, Paxton. You can’t tell anyone about my name on account of the attorney-client privilege.”
“Damn, Jolene Jolene, I could have had a lot of fun with that.”
She made some noise that sounded like a junkyard dog about to attack. “Would you mind getting back to my charges, please?”
“Okay, okay. Let me guess . . . Officer Davis pulled you over for speeding, saw all the previous speeding tickets on your record, probably an unpaid one too, couldn’t be charmed by your big eyes or moved by your tears, and arrested your cute little behind. How’d I do?”
“Uuhhh. Not quite.” A delicate pink flushed her cheeks and she bit down on her lower lip. She’d probably practiced that in front of the mirror a million times to get it to look that sexy.
Paxton jerked his gaze away from her mouth and down to the clipboard and skimmed further down the form. “What the hell, Jolene?”
“He totally made some of those charges up.”
“Which ones?” He pinned her with his gaze before reading them off. “Trespassing, breaking and entering, burglary? Why would you break into the animal shelter, Jo?”
She turned her head to stare at the cinder-block wall in front of her. “It’s a long story.”
“Do tell.” He waited a beat, but when she remained silent—for the first time ever, to his knowledge—he went back to reading the charges. “Aggravating a police officer, resisting arrest, and bribery. Bribery, Jo? Seriously?”
“No! I told you he made some charges up. All I said was I was sure we could clear everything up with a friendly talk over doughnuts. When he accused me of trying to bribe him, I only brought up money and sex as examples of what a real bribe would be. Just check his tape—it’ll prove I’m telling the truth. He just doesn’t like me, is all.” Jo’s lower lip pushed out before she pressed her lips together.
“Money and sex? Why were you even talking to him?” What was he saying? Jo would talk the ears off an elephant. He ran his hand over his face, taking a deep breath before glancing back at her. “He didn’t like you? Gee, what could you possibly have done? I mean, other than break the law.”
“I might have referred to him as Barney Fife. I mean, possibly.” Jo’s gaze flicked up at him and quickly away before she stood up from the cot attached to the wall and paced in the small cell. “And there was that whole awkward part where I sort of head-butted his nose, which hurt me more than him, I’m pretty sure. The doughnut offer—a totally polite gesture on my part. Other than those little things . . . I don’t know why he didn’t like me. Normally I’m a very likable person. Please, Paxton, you’ve got to help me fix this. I’ve never not been . . .”
“Perfect? Look, this really isn’t my specialty anymore, but I’ve got a friend who—” He stopped talking as a thought hit him, and he felt a little bit like the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas from Whoville. Because Jo was right. Outside of him, everyone did like her. Jolene Joyner had a perfect reputation. Until last night, but he could spin that no problem. “On second thought, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
She stopped pacing and tilted her head at him. “What?”
“You know I’m vice president of the Climax Judicial District Bar Association—”
“I had no idea.”
“I’m planning on running for president, but it’s been strongly suggested to me that I’d be a shoo-in if I was in a stable, committed relationship.” Coming back to Climax had been the next step toward his ultimate goal of becoming a judge. He’d been working on his political and community connections, but being a bachelor, he was left off the invite list on many of the local social gatherings that seemed to cater to couples. Jolene could be his way in.
“And to think you acted like I was the crazy one. I am not flying to Vegas with you for some quickie marriage at the drive-through Chapel of Elvis.”
“Good lord, no. I’ll help you deal with your arrest and charges and you just have to pretend to be in a relationship with me for six months. Tops.”
“You and me? A couple? No one is going to buy that. I mean, we go together as well as Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club.”
“You know they kiss in the end, right?”
“Cats and dogs. Cheerleaders and baseball. Eggnog and tuna fish.”
“No one knows that but you and me. I bet you’ve never even told your mother, have you?”
“No. You know our moms are good friends. I didn’t want to start something awkward between them.”
“We can make it work for six months. Deal?”
She shot him what he used to call her princess-deigns-to acknowledge-the-peasants look back in high school. He hated that look.
“You know what . . . never mind. Let me go see about getting you out of here and the charges dropped.” He looked back down at the list. “They can’t prove the B and E or theft, so I’ll get those thrown out . . . what? What was that look for?”
Jo walked over to the cot and lifted the blanket to reveal a sleeping puppy.
“Christ, Jo.” Paxton shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he was anywhere else but standing in front of Jolene Joyner wanting to shake some sense into her. He stepped up to the bars where he spoke low enough for her ears alone. “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” She slumped down onto the edge of the cot, opening her mouth to explain, but stopped and shook her head with a shrug.
Right. Why would she trust him when she didn’t much like him? He gripped the bars tighter before letting go and stepping back. “How is it they let you keep the dog with you? He’s evidence.”
“He doesn’t like men, so Barney, I mean Officer Davis, said I could keep him until the shelter opened and could come get him.” She reached out, softly petting the dog. “But Paxton, if you could work something out, I would really like to keep him. Please.”
“You know the legal system isn’t a big believer in finders keepers, right?” It was like the princess thought there were special rules just for her. “How did you get those bruises on your forearms and face?”
Glancing down at her arms with a curious look on her face, she ran a hand lightly over the purple smudges. “Huh. I guess that’s where Officer Davis grabbed me to pull me out. I sort of got stuck under the chain-link fence. He didn’t mean to hurt me. I bruise easily.”
“Jolene?”
She moved over to him, staring up at him through the bars, her eyes like soft storm clouds after a spring rain. “Yes?”
“Shut up.” He reached his hand through the bars and smoothed her hair, examining the soft purple smudges on her cheek and nose. “At least until I get you out of here. I’ll get the charges dropped with the excessive force used by the arresting officer; you’ll walk with a few hours of community service.”
“You’re that sure?”
“I’m that good.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Hang tight. I’ll have you out soon.”
Picking up the clipboard from the chair, he nodded at her and turned to head out. A quick call to Judge Garvey, who’d be slipping his hearing aids on right about now, should speed things along and then he and Jolene “Jojo” Joyner could go back to ignoring each other.
“Paxton, wait!”
Turning back, he raised an eyebrow when she stayed silent, staring at him.
“Thank you.” Her small hands trembled and twisted around the bars. “I’d help you if I could . . . I just—”
“Can’t. Right.” Paxton watched her fingers twitching in agitation. She might be saying no right now, but that hesitation told him he still had a chance to
change her no to a yes. He could be pretty charming and convincing. Just never with Jo. He was up to the challenge. “No hard feelings here, but just so you know, I haven’t given up.”
* * *
Jolene sat in the county courthouse, attempting to look as calm and collected as possible. Under the circumstances, she thought she was doing an okay job of it, considering her stomach felt an awful lot like the time three summers back when she’d eaten bad shrimp. She inhaled and exhaled carefully in an attempt to rein in her galloping heart. How did you get yourself in this predicament, Jojo?
Totally rhetorical question. A person didn’t go from never getting in trouble—speeding tickets aside—for her whole life to being handcuffed, thrown in jail, and charged with a minimum of three misdemeanors and not know how it happened. Jo hadn’t acted on impulse since before middle school. In fact, since as far back as the fourth grade, Jo had lived her life according to the rules. Nothing she did in her life was done without careful consideration. Her actions were always deliberate and sensible. She’d learned to color inside the lines in all areas of her life. Until the phone call at two in the morning. Answering the phone wasn’t the problem. But her hasty, rushed response to it . . . That may be where she’d gone wrong.
You think, Jo? Maybe if she’d held it together and handled the situation calmly, she might have come up with another option. Shutting her eyes, she recalled what had led to the one impulsive act in her life: a promising student in need, the student’s punk boyfriend way too excited about breaking and entering, and the life of an innocent puppy. It had been an emotional perfect storm that battered her cautious, normally prudent decision-making process.
The fact that she’d had to call Paxton? Meant she’d hit bottom. Seriously, she and Paxton Cates hadn’t said two friendly words to each other since sometime in freshman year of high school. His voice, thick with disapproval a few hours earlier, still cut through her brain: what were you thinking?