Maverick vs. Maverick Read online

  All’s Fair In Love And...Court?

  RUST CREEK RAMBLINGS

  Lindsay Dalton, daughter of our esteemed town attorney, is about to try her first case in the courtroom, and it’s a doozy. It’s David versus Goliath as Lindsay tests her mettle against millionaire cowboy Walker Jones.

  With his looks, charm and commanding presence, Walker Jones the Third seems like a man who just can’t lose. However, his blue-eyed powers of persuasion apparently do not extend to our earnest Ms. Dalton. In fact, our sources suggest the novice Rust Creek Falls lawyer might just be throwing Walker Jones off his game. Could this be mere legal maneuvering? The jury is still out. But with two stubborn hearts in denial, we at the Gazette are predicting an epic romantic showdown!

  “Are you just trying to butter me up before the trial starts?”

  He grinned. “Is it working?”

  “Nope. I’m not so easily swayed.” She feigned affront, but in the face of his smile, it was hard to hold the pose, and she ended up laughing instead.

  He reached up, brushed a tendril of hair off her forehead and tucked the lock behind her ear. His touch lingered on her cheek, and she leaned into it. “Too bad.”

  “Why?” She could barely whisper the word. The desire simmering inside her was a living, breathing thing, overpowering every sane thought she’d ever had, pushing her closer to him.

  “Because if you weren’t Lindsay Dalton, lawyer, and I wasn’t Walker Jones, owner of Just Us Kids, I think—” his gaze dropped to her lips, then back up to her eyes “—we could have been something.”

  “But we are those things,” the sensible part of her said, even as the rest of her was telling that sensible side to shut up, “and we can’t be something.”

  “In the morning, I would agree with you. But right now—” his thumb traced over her bottom lip and made her breath catch “—why don’t we just pretend none of that exists. Just for tonight. Just for now...”

  * * *

  Montana Mavericks:

  The Baby Bonanza—Meet Rust Creek Falls’ newest bundles of joy!

  Maverick vs. Maverick

  Shirley Jump

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author SHIRLEY JUMP spends her days writing romance so she can avoid the towering stack of dirty dishes, eat copious amounts of chocolate and reward herself with trips to the mall. Visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com for author news and a booklist, and follow her at Facebook.com/shirleyjump.author for giveaways and deep discussions about important things like chocolate and shoes.

  To the family I was born into and the family of friends I have found along the way—thank you for always having my back and for the steady supply of belly-deep laughter and warm, sweet memories.

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  Introduction

  Title Page

  About the Author

  Dedication

  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

  Extract

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Walker Jones’s mother would tell anyone who would listen that her oldest son came into this world ready to argue. He was a carbon copy of his father that way, she’d say, another man ready to debate everything from the color of the sky to the temperature of the room.

  So it was no surprise he’d grown up to fill his father’s shoes in the boardroom, too.

  The elder, Walker Jones II, was a formidable opponent in any corporate environment, though his advanced age had warranted a decline in the number of hours he worked. Walker III had stepped in, doubling the company in size and reach. That desire to take over the world had led him to do the one thing he thought he’d never do again—journey back to small-town America to defend the family business interests.

  Walker had grown up in Oklahoma, but as far as he could tell, Rust Creek Falls and Kalispell, Montana, where the courthouse was located, were just copycats of the kind of tiny spit of a town that Walker tried to avoid. Lord knew what his brother Hudson saw in the place, because to Walker, it was just one more Norman Rockwell painting to escape as soon as humanly possible. He’d spent as little time as possible here a few months earlier when he’d opened his first Just Us Kids Day Care center. Basically just enough time to unlock the door and hand Hudson the keys. The day care center was a tiny part of the much larger operation of Jones Holdings, Inc., a blip on the corporate radar.

  Walker had no intention of staying any longer this time around, either. Just long enough to deal with a pesky lawsuit and a persistent lawyer named Lindsay Dalton. The attorney worked in her father’s office. Probably one of those kids handed a job regardless of their competency level, Walker scoffed. He figured he’d make quick work of the whole thing and get back to his corporate offices in Tulsa ASAP.

  Walker strode into Judge Sheldon Andrews’s courtroom on a Friday morning, figuring he could be out of town by sunset. The lawsuit was frivolous, the charges unfounded, and Walker had no doubt he could get it thrown out before the arguments got started.

  Walker shrugged out of his cashmere overcoat, placed it neatly on the back of his chair, then settled himself behind the wide oak defendant’s table. He laid a legal pad before him, a file folder on his left, and a row of pens to the right. Props, really, part of sending a message to the plaintiff that Walker was ready for a fight. Perception, Walker had learned, was half the battle. His lawyer, Marty Peyton, who had been around the courtroom longer than Walker had been alive, came in and took the seat beside him.

  “This summary judgment should be a slam dunk,” Walker said to Marty. “These claims are totally groundless.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it a slam dunk,” Marty whispered back. He pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a hand through his short white hair. “If Lindsay Dalton is anything like her father, she’s a great lawyer.”

  Walker waved that off. He’d gone up against more formidable opponents than some small-town lawyer.

  “And for another, this is about sick kids,” Marty went on. “You already have the court of public opinion against you.”

  “Sick kid, singular,” Walker corrected. “She’s only representing one family. And kids get sick at day care centers all the time. Kids are walking germ factories.”

  Marty pursed his lips and sat back in his seat. “Whatever you say. I hope you’re right. You don’t need this kind of publicity, especially since you’re planning to open five more locations this year.”

  The new locations would bring the day care division up to twenty-two locations, throughout Montana and Oklahoma. A nice dent in the western market. “It’ll be fine. We’ll dispense with this lawyer and her ridiculous suit before you can say hello and goodbye.” Walker straightened the pens again, then turned when the courtroom door opened and in walked his opponent.

  Lindsay Dalton was not what he’d been expecting. Not even close.

  Given the terse tone of her letters and voice mails, he’d expected some librarian type. All buttoned up and severe, with glasses and a shapeless, dingy brown jacket. Instead, he got a five-foot-five cover model in a pale gray suit and a pink silk shirt with the top two buttons unfastened. Not to mention heels an
d incredible legs.

  She was, in a word, fascinating.

  Lindsay Dalton had long brown hair in a tidy ponytail that skimmed the back of her suit and bangs that dusted across her forehead. Her big blue eyes were accented by a touch of makeup. Just enough to draw his gaze to her face, then focus it on her lips.

  She smiled at her clients just then—a young couple who looked like they’d donned their Sunday best—and the smile was what hit Walker the hardest. It was dazzling. Powerful.

  Holy hell.

  He turned to Marty. “That’s Lindsay Dalton?”

  Marty shrugged. “I guess so. Pretty girl.”

  “Good looks doesn’t make her a good lawyer,” Walker said. She might be a bit distracting, but that didn’t mean his lawyer couldn’t argue against her and get this case thrown out.

  She walked to the front of the courtroom, not sparing a glance at either Walker or Marty, then took her seat on the plaintiff’s side, with her clients on her right. An older woman, probably a grandma, sat in the gallery with the couple’s baby on her lap. Lindsay turned and gave the baby a big grin. The child cooed. Lindsay covered her eyes for a second, opened her hands like a book, and whispered “peekaboo.” The baby giggled and Lindsay repeated the action twice more, before turning back to the front of the courtroom.

  It was a sweet, tender moment, but Walker knew full well that Lindsay Dalton had arranged to have the baby here, not for silly games, but to garner some sympathy points.

  The door behind the judge’s bench opened and Judge Andrews stepped out. Short, bespectacled and a little on the pudgy side, Judge Andrews resembled a heavy Bob Newhart. The bailiff called, “All rise,” and everyone stood while Andrews gave the courtroom a nod, then took his place on the bench.

  “You may be seated,” he said. Then the bailiff called the court to order, and they got under way.

  This was the part Walker liked the best, whether it was in courtroom or in the boardroom. That eager anticipation in his gut just before everything started. Like two armies squaring off across the battlefield, with the tension so high it charged the air.

  “We’re here on your motion for a summary judgment regarding the lawsuit brought by the plaintiffs, represented by Ms. Dalton, correct?” Judge Andrews asked Walker’s attorney.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  The judge waved at the podium. “Then, Mr. Peyton, you may proceed.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Marty got to his feet and laid his notes before him on the table. “This lawsuit, brought against Mr. Jones’s day care center, is a waste of everyone’s time. There is simply no legal or factual basis for the suit. Ms. Dalton is trying to prove that her client’s child caught a cold at the center, but there is no evidence whatsoever to support that claim. Germs are a fact of life, Your Honor. They’re on any surface we touch, and no one can prove that the Marshalls’ child contracted a common cold because of her time in day care. Why, for all we know, one of the Marshalls could have brought the germs into their own house. All it takes is one sneeze from a stranger or contact with a germ-infested surface in a public place. Surely Ms. Dalton can’t blame Mr. Jones’s day care center for the world’s inability to reach for a Kleenex at the right time.”

  That was a line Walker had given Marty in their meeting last week. It seemed to amuse the judge. A smile ghosted on his face then disappeared.

  “Your Honor,” Marty continued, “there are no cases holding that a day care center is legally responsible when a child who spends part of her day there comes down with a cold. Frankly, it’s a frivolous claim, and we’re asking that the court enter summary judgment in the defendant’s favor, dismissing this case.”

  Judge Andrews nodded at Marty, then turned to Lindsay Dalton. “Ms. Dalton?”

  Lindsay got to her feet and smoothed a hand down the front of her jacket. She took a moment to draw in a breath, as if centering herself.

  She was nervous. Good, Walker thought. He had this thing won already.

  “Your Honor, Mr. Peyton is greatly minimizing the situation at hand. This was not a common cold, not by any means. We intend to prove that Mr. Jones’s day care center, Just Us Kids, has been grossly negligent in cleanliness, resulting in a severe respiratory syncytial virus infection for Georgina Marshall, the then three-month-old child of Peter and Heather Marshall. The Marshalls entrusted Mr. Jones’s day care center with the care of their precious child, only to end up sitting by her hospital bed, praying for her to overcome the bronchitis that developed as a result of her exposure to RSV.”

  Walker fought the urge to roll his eyes. Precious child? Praying?

  “Your Honor, RSV is a respiratory infection,” Marty said, standing up again. “It’s marked by a cough and runny nose. Just like the common cold.”

  “Georgina stopped eating,” Lindsay countered. “She lost two pounds, which for a baby of her size is a dramatic weight loss. The hospital she was in didn’t see this as a common cold. They saw it as a life-threatening illness. A life-threatening illness caused by Mr. Jones’s negligence.” With those words she turned and glared directly at Walker.

  As if he was the one neglecting to mop the floors and wipe down the toys every night. Walker had barely stepped inside the day care center in Rust Creek Falls. He’d left his brother Hudson to oversee the business and hired a highly experienced and competent manager to help run the place. He had no doubt that Just Us Kids was running as smoothly as a Swiss watch.

  He was busy enough maintaining the corporate interests. He had oil wells in Texas and overseas, the financial division expanding in the northeast, and then these day care centers, all started in small towns because his research had shown they were the most in need of child care resources.

  Ms. Dalton rushed on. “Your Honor, I invite you to read the medical charts, which we filed with the court in opposition to the defendant’s motion for summary judgment. Those alone will prove how close the Marshalls came to losing their only child.”

  Marty got to his feet. “Your Honor, does the Marshalls’ counsel really need to use words like ‘precious’? All children are precious, and no disrespect to the Marshalls, but their child is no more precious than anyone else’s. Can we stick to facts, without the flowery language?”

  “The facts are clear, Your Honor,” Lindsay said. “The Marshalls’ baby contracted RSV as a direct result of staying in Mr. Jones’s day care. As did many other children—”

  “This case is only about the Marshalls,” Walker interjected. “It’s one family, not a class action.”

  She wheeled on him and shot him a glare. “They merely want justice for the pain and suffering their daughter endured.”

  Code for give us a big settlement so we never have to work again. Walker bit back a sigh. He was tired of people who used the justice system to make a quick buck.

  “The child is healthy now,” Walker said to the judge, despite Marty waving a hand to silence him. “This was a short-lived illness, and again, not traceable to any one contaminant. To blame my day care center is casting a pretty specific net in a very large river.”

  The judge gave him a stern look. “Mr. Walker, I’ll thank you to leave the argument to your lawyer. You’re not here testifying today.”

  “I apologize for my client’s outburst, Your Honor,” Marty said smoothly. “It’s just that this is so clearly a frivolous claim. Which is why we are moving to have this case dismissed before it wastes any more of the court’s time.”

  Judge Andrews nodded again, and both lawyers sat to wait for him to announce his ruling. He flipped through the papers before him, taking a few minutes to scan the documents.

  Walker sat at his table, maintaining a calm demeanor, as if this whole thing was a walk in the park. In all honesty, though, if he lost this case, it could severely impact his whole company and the future of the entire Just Us Kids Day Care ch
ain. He refused to let some small-town lawyer derail his future expansion plans. Jones Holdings, Inc. was solid enough to withstand this tiny dent, but he wasn’t so sure the day care centers could rise above the ensuing bad publicity if the case wasn’t dismissed. Walker was in this business to make a profit, not to see it wiped away by some overeager small-town lawyer.

  Lindsay Dalton had her legs crossed, right over left, and her right foot swung back and forth in a tight, nervous arc under the table. She whispered something to Heather Marshall, who nodded then covered Lindsay’s hand with her own and gave it a squeeze. Heather Marshall’s eyes watered—whether for real or for effect, Walker couldn’t tell. He’d seen enough people fake emotions in business that a few tears no longer swayed him.

  Judge Andrews cleared his throat and looked up from his paperwork. “It’s the opinion of this court that there is sufficient evidence to proceed to trial on this case.” He put up a hand to ward off Marty’s objections, then lowered his glasses and looked at Walker’s attorney. “Mr. Peyton, you and your client may think this suit is frivolous, but the evidence Ms. Dalton has offered demonstrates that there are genuine issues of material fact. Now, let’s talk about a date for the trial. I realize we had set a date for four weeks from today, but that date will no longer work for me. As part of the joys of getting old, I have to have a knee replaced, and am not sure how long I will be out.”

  Great. That would just make this thing drag on longer and longer. Walker didn’t need the prolonged negative publicity.

  “But thanks to a big case settling just this morning, my schedule for next week has an unexpected hole in it and I can hear your arguments on Tuesday morning, after the Columbus Day holiday.”

  Lindsay Dalton shot to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. I need more time to adequately prepare—”

  “From what I have seen, you are prepared, Ms. Dalton. Tuesday is the date, unless you and your clients want to prolong this case indefinitely.” The Marshalls shook their head, and Lindsay nodded acceptance. “Good. I will see you all back here Tuesday at 9:00 a.m. Court dismissed.” He banged the gavel, then got to his feet.