by Lori Ryan
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Also by Lori Ryan
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Desire and Protect
Book Five in the Heroes of Evers, Texas Series
Lori Ryan
Copyright 2017, Lori Ryan.
All rights reserved.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others in any form.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to people, places, persons, or characters are all intended as fictional references and are the work of the author.
Created with Vellum
Also by Lori Ryan
Heroes of Evers, Texas Series
Love and Protect
Promise and Protect
Serve and Protect
Honor and Protect (An Evers, TX Novella)
Desire and Protect
Cherish and Protect
Treasure and Protect
Canyon Creek
Born to be My Baby
Never Say Goodbye
Thank You For Loving Me
With These Two Hands
I’ll Be There For You
If That’s What It Takes
On the Line Series
Pure Vengeance
Latent Danger
Wicked Justice
All In
The Sutton Capital Series
Legal Ease
Penalty Clause
The Baker’s Bodyguard (A Sutton Capital Series Novella)
Negotiation Tactics
The Billionaire’s Suite Dreams
The Baker, the Bodyguard, and the Wedding Bell Blues (A Sutton Capital Series Novella)
Her SEALed Fate
Cutthroat
Cut and Run
Cut to the Chase
The Sutton Capital Series Boxed Set (Books One Through Four)
The Sutton Capital Series Boxed Set (Books Five Through Seven)
The Sutton Capital Series Boxed Set (Books Eight Through Ten)
Triple Play Curse Series
Game Changer
Game Maker
Game Clincher
The Triple Play Curse Boxed Set
Standalone Books
Stealing Home (writing in Melanie Shawn’s Hope Falls Series)
Any Witch Way (writing in Robyn Peterman’s Magic and Mayhem Series)
1
Embrace life. Always.
Fiona O’Malley’s Journal
This was going poorly. Then again, what had she expected? Phoebe Joy had given a lot of thought to the town she wanted to settle in, but not a single thought in the world to whether there would be a job for her there when she did.
So, here she was, applying for a job as a paralegal. This was the new Phoebe Joy.
She’d gotten her degree in paralegal studies years before to appease her father, but she hadn’t ever used it. She’d dusted off that bad boy and hit the wanted ads with a vengeance. And now, armed with said paralegal degree and really very little else, she sat in the law office of Shane J. Bishop, Attorney-at-Law, trying not to squirm in her seat as the suited man read her résumé.
She was forcing herself to ignore the fact that he didn’t look at all like she’d thought he would. When she thought small town lawyer, she thought of white hair and wire rimmed glasses. Or a large belly that said he spent too much time sitting in front of a computer. This man, well, he had none of that. He was tall, dark, and troubling. Troubling because the tall and dark part was all put together too damned well. Dark hair, dark eyes, chiseled jaw.
Phoebe shook her head to clear the thoughts and reminded herself she was supposed to be ignoring all of that.
He glanced up at her, scowled, then looked back at her résumé.
Just as she thought. No one was going to take her seriously. Her name had set her up for that years ago. Who names a baby Phoebe Joy? If your last name is Joy, your parents really should come up with a very serious name to go with it, like Susan or Jill.
Phoebe frowned. Jill doesn’t work. Jill Joy is no good. Jane doesn’t work either. Susan isn’t horrible. Susan Joy. That could work. Suzanne might be even better.
But, Phoebe Joy. That had set her up. No one can take anyone named Phoebe Joy seriously. There was a time when she’d have liked that. She hadn’t wanted to be taken overly seriously. But things were different now.
Her dad could have changed it at any point after her mom had left. Someday, she’d need to ask why he hadn’t. His last name was Brophy. Why hadn’t he changed her name to Phoebe Brophy? She supposed she could have done the same at some point in the eleven years since she’d turned eighteen.
Or better, she could have gone back to the original French spelling of the name: Joie. That would have worked. Not that she knew anything about her mother’s ancestry or the family name. Or the entire family, for that matter. She’d simply looked it up on ancestry.com one day.
“So, uh, Ms. Joy. It looks like you’ve had several jobs since you received your degree, none of which have been in any way related to paralegal studies.” He did have a way of putting rather a fine point on things, didn’t he? She glued her bottom to the seat and refused to squirm.
“Is that a question?” Oh crap. That’s probably not a good way to start an interview. She tried again. “I mean, no. I haven’t used my paralegal degree yet. I’ve been doing other things.” Brilliant. Just brilliant, Phoebe.
“Yes, I can see that. You spent a year scooping ice cream at Ben’s Old-Fashioned Scoops, two years as a receptionist at Ray’s Tattoo and Piercing Pagoda, two years at a paint-your-own pottery studio, and...” He glanced up at her briefly before lowering his eyes to the page again. “A month? A month at a pet store cleaning out the animal cages?”
“I’ve included references from all of them,” Phoebe smiled, wondering briefly why on earth she’d put the one month stint at the pet store on there. How do you explain to someone that you’ve spent several years of your adult life being a free spirit, only to realize that’s not what you want? What you want is stability, a home, a family, a decent steadfast man to come home to? Like the one sitting in front of her.
Shut up, Phoebe.
“Yes,” he nodded, “I can see that. Excellent references from all of them, in fact. They all have wonderful things to say about you. Including Ray, the tattoo artist who ‘hopes you’ll come back to him someday and make an honest man of him’.”
Was it her imagination or did Shane Bishop just flinch at the exact moment that she had? Can you call jinx on a flinch? Because if you could, maybe she could get a free soda out of this interview at the very least.
She’d spent several years hiking and traveling. She’d thought about putting that on her résumé, but hiking the Appalachian Trail and living off your dad while you found yourself wasn’t really anything to recommend her, was it? She’d been happy with her vagabond ways. Her dad, on the other hand, well…he’d had higher aspirations in mind. She and her father had finally come up with a deal. She’d get her paralegal degree and then she could either choose to use it or not. She chose not. Until now.
She wondered if she should simply end the interview before things went any further down the proverbial hill. No. That wasn’t like her. She might be considered flighty by many people, but she wasn’t a quitter. Well, the pet store… she’d quit that. But that was because she’d been about to be fired. When your boss caught you trying to let all twelve of the store’s tortoises slip out the door to freedom, you had very little say in the matter. It was quit or be fired.
As it turned out, her boss had been tempted to do the same himself. He’d been almost apologetic in telling her she was going to be fired if she didn’t leave on her own. It was why he continued giving her glowing recommendations despite the incident.
The other references had all been earned the honest way. She’d made herself indispensable. It was one of the things her dad had drilled into her. You work hard, take initiative, and make yourself indispensable, so that if you ever leave, it’s your own choice. And if you ever need a raise, he’d say with a laugh, that’s your own choice, too.
Phoebe raised her chin and plowed forward. “I wanted to spend some time gaining experience before putting my paralegal degree to work. I traveled some, worked with a wide range of people, and—” she gestured toward the résumé “—gained valuable management and customer relations experience at each of the positions I held.”
She mentally crossed her fingers behind her back. She hadn’t attained anything of the sort at the pet store. It was the one exception.
She hoped he couldn’t see through her. The truth was she had been floating for the last few years. Of course, she hadn’t realized it at the time. As it turned out, she wasn’t always the most aware person in the world. Take, for example, her latest relationship.
She’d spent eighteen months with Michael Williams. Eighteen months where she thought they were building something, heading somewhere. It had taken a single afternoon at a friend’s wedding to nip that fantasy in the bud.
Shane Bishop stared at the woman in front of him. She wore a black pantsuit with the smallest hint of a bright purple blouse beneath it. She didn’t need to wear a suit to the office any more than he did. He should really consider dressing down on days he didn’t need to go to court. Her hair looked as if it would like to wrestle itself out of the pins and ties she’d used to put it back in a twist. Blonde curls peeked out at the edges of her heart-shaped face and he had the bizarre urge to tell her she didn’t need to wear it pinned up, either.
The truth was, she could pretty much dictate her terms. Her salary, hours, and wardrobe were all open to negotiation. What wasn’t open to negotiation was whether he would hire her. Despite the fact that her résumé offered a strange hodge-podge of experience, none of which was related to the law, she was the most qualified applicant he’d had since his last paralegal had left town six months ago.
Evers, Texas, was a small place. It might be growing dramatically, but it still wasn’t a big city. There was a growing artist population, but you had to drive thirty minutes to get to a movie theater and there weren’t any concerts or anything bigger than small local theater productions.
A lot of people didn’t want to stay. He needed to make sure she did. He’d had only two other applicants; Mrs. Steinecker, who could no longer hear but refused to get a hearing aid, and a man who wanted to know if it would be acceptable to be nude around the office, provided they didn’t have any clients coming in that day.
“How soon would you be able to start?” he asked. The shock on her face when she turned back to him was amusing, but Shane kept the humor from showing on his face.
“Um, Monday? I could begin Monday, if you’d like,” she said, confusion making her eyebrows knit together and the cupid bow of her lips purse up.
Distraction. That was the one thing he thought of when he looked at Phoebe Joy. She was going to be a distraction. On the other hand, maybe she’d be able to help him get caught up. He looked at the work piled in his inbox. It seemed like the pile hadn’t gotten any smaller in recent months.
He looked back to Ms. Joy with a nod. “Good. I’ll see you Monday, then.”
“Oh.” She said this with a bit of shock and he found himself fighting a smile for the second time. If nothing else, she’d entertain him. Lord, he hoped she did more than that, though. He needed someone competent.
They tied up the details and she walked out.
Shane walked to the low chest of filing cabinets that fronted his window and began flicking through the files he’d stacked there. A flash of pink—well, what he thought of as pink but had once been informed was peach—caught his eye out the window. Mindy Mason waved at him as she crossed the lawn to the library. He raised his hand in a wave but didn’t smile. If he was too friendly, he’d learned, she would come over to talk and he’d never be rid of her.
Mindy Mason was one of what he thought of in his head as the Sweater Sets. He frowned to himself as he looked back down at the folder. There were three of them in town and there was a time he’d thought he’d marry one of the Sweater Sets. Unfortunately, it turned out, they’d all bored him to tears.
“Sweater sets. So damned tired of peach sweater sets,” Shane mumbled under his breath. He didn’t hear the door to his office open. “Why are they always peach, anyway?” He thought of the bright purple blouse hiding under Phoebe Joy’s suit, but shoved the thought aside right away. Not only was she not the right kind of woman for him, she was his employee. Or she would be on Monday, anyway.
The Sweater Sets were supposed to be the right kind of woman for him. He grimaced.
“Why are what always peach?” Cade’s voice came right behind him, causing Shane to jump a foot, which had to have been Cade’s intention.
“Funny, little brother.” Shane grabbed a stack of papers from a nearby table and sat at his desk. If he looked busy enough, he could get Cade out of there and get back to figuring out what it was about Phoebe Joy that had gotten under his skin. “My new paralegal doesn’t start until Monday and I’ve got a pile of work to get through. Did you need something?”
“Wow. Sorry. Moody, huh? You want me to have Mama run some Midol and an apple pie or something over for you?” Cade asked, kicking his feet up onto the desk and ignoring the look Shane sent his way. Cade might be the more laid back of the two brothers, but he did like egging Shane on.
Shane just glared at him. He’d found staying quiet when Cade was in one of these moods was usually his best bet. In fact, it was the best way to flip the situation and irritate Cade.
“Oh, wow, was it the beautiful woman who just left your office that has you all in a snit?” Cade asked.
Apparently, no strategy was going to stop Cade today.
“That beautiful woman—happily-married brother of mine—is my new paralegal.”
“Very happily married, you might add. Doesn’t mean I don’t take note when a beautiful woman gets my brother’s boxers all in a bunch,” Cade said, an all-too-smug grin firmly planted on his face. “Well, I’ll tell Ma you’ll be making it to Sunday dinners again now that you’ve finally hir
ed someone to help you here. That’s actually the reason I’m here. She sent me to tell you if you didn’t make it this Sunday, she’d skin you and serve you for next week’s dinner. I thought that was pretty gross, but I wasn’t about to argue with her. She’s been in a bad mood since you started missing dinners three months back.”
Shane grunted. He wouldn’t be any more caught up on Sunday than he was now, but at least he’d have help starting Monday. Just what kind of help that would be, he had no idea. He caught himself looking at the door again, thinking about the woman who’d just left. Hiring her might have been a big mistake. What little help she’d probably be with no experience in law couldn’t possibly make up for the enormous distraction she was. Shane pulled his eyes away and refocused on Cade—who was still grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.
“What?” Shane demanded.
Cade laughed and shook his head. “Oh, nothing, Big Brother. Nothing at all.”
2
Joy is worth reaching for.
Fiona O’Malley’s Journal
And, she’s dancing
Not just dancing. She was on top of a chair, reaching up to stack books on a shelf, shaking her butt in a way that had Shane rooted to the spot in her office doorway. This was his new paralegal. Sure, he hadn’t expected her to be here this early, and it was a positive that she was, but he also didn’t expect her to have Low Rider playing as she … did whatever it was she was doing. The present move included raising her hands above her head and doing a little swivel, twisty thing. When the chair moved under her, she squealed and caught herself on the shelf, before starting up again.
Also unexpected? His reaction to the wiggling hips in front of him. He should be annoyed. Shane swallowed hard, torn between casually announcing his presence, hauling her off the chair before she fell, and grabbing her and finding out what it would feel like to have his hands on—