her out of the grasp of a crazed bike messenger and a shady P.I., help her save her job, and convince her to put down the pepper spray and give him another chance.
Read on for a sneak peek at this fun, romantic mystery!
A Good Kind of Trouble— Chapter One
Ben Gillespie checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes. How long was it going to take these two clowns to wrap up their petty dispute? The judge was going to rule for the plaintiff. The defendant’s lawyer—a sleazy, overpaid blowhard named Gregory Stanton—hadn’t met the standard for getting the civil case dismissed. Yet the jerk was going on and on, dragging the argument out far longer than necessary, as if he were being paid by the word. Or by the minute, which was more accurate.
Ben shifted in his seat. The courtroom, which had been packed at the beginning of the morning calendar, was now nearly empty. His case was up next and would take five minutes. No sign of opposing counsel, so it might only take three minutes. He’d tried sweet-talking the clerk into putting him at the top of the docket, but others had gotten to her first. Instead, he spent an hour watching other lawyers haggling over motions, trial dates, settlements and procedural disputes.
To be honest, it could have been worse. He could have been at the office.
“Motion to dismiss denied,” Judge Camille Kinley said.
Finally . Ben gathered his briefcase as the plaintiff’s attorney passed by, giving Ben a curt nod. The defense attorney paused and picked up his briefcase from the seat next to Ben, his presence bringing a sense of dread. Gregory Stanton straightened the collar on the ugliest suit jacket Ben had ever laid eyes on.
“See you back in the office, Gillespie,” he said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, boss,” Ben said, watching Stanton leave the courtroom.
The clerk called Ben’s case and he walked to the podium.
“Good morning, your honor,” he said. “Ben Gillespie for the defendant, Oaks Insurance.”
The appearance in front of Judge Kinley was a routine matter. Ben’s client, an insurance carrier, had finally worn down the plaintiff and convinced him to settle the case over a car accident for an outrageously low sum. The settlement meant the trial date could be vacated. The papers were filed, the case closed, and Ben took a few steps away from the podium.
“Um, Mr. Gillespie,” Judge Kinley said.
Had he done something wrong? Forgotten to dismiss a motion or ask for a waiver of … something? He searched his memory, but nothing came to mind. Then again, he sometimes felt like he handled these appearances on autopilot.
“Yes, your honor?”
Judge Kinley took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“I have an unusual request, Mr. Gillespie,” she said. “I need someone to represent a person on a civil contempt matter just referred from Judge Chinn’s court. It won’t take long.”
Ben paused, his mind on his calendar. He didn’t have anything pressing back at the office. And he’d rather avoid that hellhole if possible. He couldn’t very well say no to Judge Kinley anyway. He had far too many cases in front of her.
“Of course, your honor,” he said.
She sighed. “Your client is in the holding cell.”
Ben followed the courtroom bailiff out the side door. He’d never been back to the holding cell. His clients were insurance companies and corporations, not actual people. Especially not criminal-type people.
The holding cell looked like a wall of bars had been thrown up at the end of a hallway as an afterthought. A woman sat on the bench built into the back wall. She was leaning forward, her head in her hands, and her long blonde hair obscured her face. She was wearing a white blouse, a blue skirt, and had really nice legs.
He was still staring at those legs when his new client gasped.
“What are you doing here?”
That voice. He knew that voice.
The last time
Read on for a sneak peek at this fun, romantic mystery!
A Good Kind of Trouble— Chapter One
Ben Gillespie checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes. How long was it going to take these two clowns to wrap up their petty dispute? The judge was going to rule for the plaintiff. The defendant’s lawyer—a sleazy, overpaid blowhard named Gregory Stanton—hadn’t met the standard for getting the civil case dismissed. Yet the jerk was going on and on, dragging the argument out far longer than necessary, as if he were being paid by the word. Or by the minute, which was more accurate.
Ben shifted in his seat. The courtroom, which had been packed at the beginning of the morning calendar, was now nearly empty. His case was up next and would take five minutes. No sign of opposing counsel, so it might only take three minutes. He’d tried sweet-talking the clerk into putting him at the top of the docket, but others had gotten to her first. Instead, he spent an hour watching other lawyers haggling over motions, trial dates, settlements and procedural disputes.
To be honest, it could have been worse. He could have been at the office.
“Motion to dismiss denied,” Judge Camille Kinley said.
Finally . Ben gathered his briefcase as the plaintiff’s attorney passed by, giving Ben a curt nod. The defense attorney paused and picked up his briefcase from the seat next to Ben, his presence bringing a sense of dread. Gregory Stanton straightened the collar on the ugliest suit jacket Ben had ever laid eyes on.
“See you back in the office, Gillespie,” he said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, boss,” Ben said, watching Stanton leave the courtroom.
The clerk called Ben’s case and he walked to the podium.
“Good morning, your honor,” he said. “Ben Gillespie for the defendant, Oaks Insurance.”
The appearance in front of Judge Kinley was a routine matter. Ben’s client, an insurance carrier, had finally worn down the plaintiff and convinced him to settle the case over a car accident for an outrageously low sum. The settlement meant the trial date could be vacated. The papers were filed, the case closed, and Ben took a few steps away from the podium.
“Um, Mr. Gillespie,” Judge Kinley said.
Had he done something wrong? Forgotten to dismiss a motion or ask for a waiver of … something? He searched his memory, but nothing came to mind. Then again, he sometimes felt like he handled these appearances on autopilot.
“Yes, your honor?”
Judge Kinley took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“I have an unusual request, Mr. Gillespie,” she said. “I need someone to represent a person on a civil contempt matter just referred from Judge Chinn’s court. It won’t take long.”
Ben paused, his mind on his calendar. He didn’t have anything pressing back at the office. And he’d rather avoid that hellhole if possible. He couldn’t very well say no to Judge Kinley anyway. He had far too many cases in front of her.
“Of course, your honor,” he said.
She sighed. “Your client is in the holding cell.”
Ben followed the courtroom bailiff out the side door. He’d never been back to the holding cell. His clients were insurance companies and corporations, not actual people. Especially not criminal-type people.
The holding cell looked like a wall of bars had been thrown up at the end of a hallway as an afterthought. A woman sat on the bench built into the back wall. She was leaning forward, her head in her hands, and her long blonde hair obscured her face. She was wearing a white blouse, a blue skirt, and had really nice legs.
He was still staring at those legs when his new client gasped.
“What are you doing here?”
That voice. He knew that voice.
The last time
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