Can't Buy Me Love

  Can’t Buy Me Love

  by

  Amy Lillard

  Can’t Buy Me Love

  By Amy Lillard

  Kindle Edition

  ****

  COPYRIGHT 2013 by Amy Lillard

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the author.

  .

  Author’s Note

  This story began on the flight between Tulsa and the Caribbean. My husband was working in Puerto Rico and I was going out to join him. I fell asleep on the plane (thanks to the side effects of the allergy medication I usually take before a flight) and suddenly there was a man in my head. An angry man who turned toward his just-trying-to-help friend and said, “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to marry the next woman I see.”

  I woke up enough to write down the sentence and during the next few weeks mulled over all the possibilities. Who was this man and why did he have to get married? And through that dream Can’t Buy Me Love was born—the first version.

  Allow me to explain. After arriving in Puerto Rico and settling in, I wrote the first couple of chapters and sent it out to editors. I crossed my fingers and prayed for my chance at a publishing contract. In the meantime I finished the book and saw an ad for a contest called “Write Your Heart Out.” It was sponsored by a small but up and coming publishing house. And I was smart enough to read between the lines. They were looking for new authors to launch their house. So I gathered up my chapters to Can’t Buy Me Love and sent them in.

  Then the amazing happened—I won the contest! And so I signed my first publishing contract. That was over twelve years ago. The publishing industry is rocky terrain. My house folded before my book went to print, but not before I was asked to make many, many changes to it. Many changes. Have I mentioned there were a lot of them?

  Now I have two different books with the same base plot: a man has to get married in order to inherit his family fortune. He picks woman at random and his life will never be the same. Other than that, the stories are as different as apples and oranges.

  Two books one market.

  Just like a mother can’t chose a favorite among her children, a writer has the same problem. I couldn’t decide which one to publish and which to allow to fade away. But really once characters have taken hold, they don’t go away until their story is told.

  So here is the first version. A little more frivolous, more light-hearted and whimsical. It’s a tad shorter, written all those years ago, but with edits to bring it up to date with the times. Not many were needed. After all, romance and love are timeless.

  I hope you enjoy this tale of Paige and Blake, brought to you at a low introductory price. And I hope that if you read both Can’t Buy Me Love and All You Need Is Love, you embrace their similarities as well as their differences. I also hope like their “mother,” you have a hard time picking your favorite.

  Happy Reading—

  Amy

  Dedication

  To my long standing “writer” friends

  Laura Marie Altom

  Karen Crane

  Sonnie Alexander

  & Renee Roszel

  Thanks for always being there!

  Chapter One

  “Even from the grave she’s dictating my life.” Blake Caldwell looked at his friend, then shook his head. “Now you’re telling me there’s no way out?”

  “Basically, yes.” Noah Anderson tossed the file of papers onto the top of his desk.

  Blake watched as he came around the side of it looking as cool and calm as he always did. Noah was never ruffled, and his appearance proved it. Not a dark hair was out of place; not one wrinkle marred his gray suit; not a ripple of emotion crossed his face. It just wasn’t fair that Noah could look so collected when Blake felt so...not.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Blake. I’ve been telling you this for weeks.”

  “But married?” Blake thrust his fingers through his hair.

  Noah shrugged. “There are worse things.”

  “Yes,” Blake agreed. “Being disemboweled, drawn and quartered.”

  “Maybe you should talk to an estate attorney—one who specializes in wills.”

  Blake shot his friend his patented look that usually sent his associates crawling away in shreds.

  Noah didn’t bat an eye. “From a legal stand point I can tell you that the provisions of your aunt’s will are specific. If you insist on contesting, I have a friend who would be willing to review it for any discrepancies.”

  Blake shook his head. “Aunt Virginia had another attorney draw up this will, a fellow by the name of Masters. As far as I know, only the three of us know about it, and I’d like to keep it that way. Do you realize what the press would do if they found out? I can see the headlines now.” He held his arms up high. “‘Caldwell Heir Forced To Marry To Claim Inheritance.’” He dropped his arms and sighed. “Run the tape again. Maybe there’s something we missed.”

  “It’s not the tape that matters.” Noah lifted the legal papers that dictated Virginia Caldwell final wishes. “This is what counts.”

  Blake placed one hand over his heart in a mockingly serious gesture. “I’m a condemned man, Noah. Humor me.”

  Noah switched on the VCR which had been brought into the office for the sole purpose of viewing and re-viewing the video will left by Virginia Caldwell.

  A VCR. That proved just how long Blake’s aunt had been planning this little scheme. Not a DVD. Not a Blue Ray. No, a VCR.

  The screen flickered and turned blue, then Virginia Caldwell’s regal face appeared. Ten years younger and no less intimidating.

  “Blake.” Her voice dripped with the practiced tone of a New England finishing school rather than the West Texas twang she had spent the better part of her life trying to deny. “If you’re watching this, then I am dead. Of course, I’m dead, you’re reading my will.” She shifted in her seat as if bothered by the talk of death and wills, particularly her own, then she reached up and patted a strand of chemically enhanced blonde hair into place.

  Blake felt more than strange seeing his aunt like this: dead, but frozen forever on video tape, tormenting him with every syllable. At least some things would never change.

  “Now, listen up,” she said in her most stern address-to-the-stock-holders voice. “I’ve always had high hopes for you. You’re not like your father or that shiftless brother of yours, and I think it’s time you stop selling yourself short. It’s time for you to become the man I know you were meant to be. You’re not getting any younger, you know.

  “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to have a family like the one I never had. All you’ve ever wanted was to run Caldwell Clothing Company. Well, you’ve had your wish. You’ve been CEO for many years now, ever since your Uncle Dick died. God rest his soul.” Her eyes misted with a fine sheen of uncharacteristic tears. She dabbed them daintily, then visibly stiffened her backbone before she continued. “Now my time has come. Even though I am dead—God rest my soul—my dreams for you will at last become a reality.” She lifted the hand that held her snowy white handkerchief and pointed one bejeweled, manicured finger at the camera, at him. “And don’t try to wheedle your way out of this. I’ve made sure this will is solid. There’s no getting out of this one, my boy.”

  Blake groaned. He had watched this tape countless times in the ten weeks since his aunt’s death and knew all too well what was coming next.

  “You must marry within one business quarter of my death, and you must live in the same house with your new bride for one year. After the year has passed, you will receive your rightful inheritance. If you choose not to marry, you can remain CEO of Caldwell, but you will draw a paycheck like a regular employee. The house wil
l be auctioned, and all of the money will be distributed to various charities. If you marry and abide by the terms of my will, then all of the money and Caldwell Clothing will be yours. After the wedding there will be a few other stipulations, of course, but either way, you will take care of my Bruno for me, won’t you, darling?”

  She shifted in her chair and patted at her hair once again. A nervous action, Blake realized now, though he had never noticed it while she was alive.

  “As long as you abide by my wishes and accept the terms of my will, I have provided for Devin,” she continued, still shifting and patting. “I’m not sure why I’ve provided for him, but I have. And he’s not without conditions either. That no good bum that passes himself off as your brother must return to Chicago and work steadily at Caldwell for the next year in order to receive the token I have left him.

  “It’ll do no good to contest this will. I am of sound mind, and I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m forcing you to realize there’s more to life than Caldwell. There’s family and goodness and love.

  “I’m doing this for your own good, Blake. Because I love you. I love you like the son I never had.”

  On that note she lifted her handkerchief back to her eyes. The screen turned blue then showed only static.

  Noah turned off the VCR and faced his friend. “See anything?”

  Blake shook his head. “The next nominee for an Academy Award. ‘I only do this, Blake, because I love you like the son I never had.’ Who is she trying to kid? She’s doing this to control me. All Aunt Virginia ever wanted was control. If you ask me, Devin’s the smart one. Aunt Virginia never got control over him. That’s why she hated him so much, and yet I get to take care of the damned dog.”

  Noah’s expression was stoic. “How is Bruno?”

  Blake rolled his eyes. “Small, black, and spoiled. He’s at the groomers right now having his toenails painted.”

  “I never thought I would see the day when you would have custody of a poodle.”

  “Tiny toy poodle, if you don’t mind. That’s French for rat with long ears. I inherit not only a wife, but a pitiful excuse for a dog.”

  “Look on the bright side. Once you have fulfilled the year of marriage you’re free to divorce without losing a cent.”

  “You call that a bright side? I still have to keep the dog. Besides, who am I going to marry?”

  “There’s always Anna.”

  Blake snorted. “Anna?”

  “You’ve seen fit to date her for the past few weeks. What’s another fifty-two?”

  “Sheer hell, that’s what. With her temper, I wouldn’t have a servant left after one week. I can’t even begin to imagine what would happen after a year of having her in my house.” He shuddered. “Do you honestly think she would sign a pre-nup?”

  “No.”

  “See?” Blake dropped back into his seat and cradled his head in his hands. “Besides,” he said, running his fingers down the sides of his face, futilely massaging the tension. “She’s gone with the Peace Corps and won’t be back for at least another two months.”

  “She what?”

  “She didn’t actually join, but I still can’t reach her.”

  “You mean she didn’t take her cell phone?” Noah laughed, a rare display. “What kind of aid can a bored, temperamental socialite offer the starving people of some small African country?”

  “With the election coming up soon, her father thought it would be a good idea for her to make a mark in the world.”

  “I’ll bet you a thousand dollars she took a manicurist with her.” Noah shook his head, then walked around his desk and picked up the file once again.

  “Just what did Aunt Virginia mean by stipulations?”

  “Sometimes, after the reading of a will, the deceased will leave further instructions to be carried out after the first set has been satisfied.”

  “There’s more? You’ve got to help me,” Blake agonized. “There has to be a way out of this. Some kind of loophole or something.”

  “Your aunt made you work for it all these years, Blake. What made you think she would hand the money to you now?”

  True. Virginia Caldwell had made him hold a job through college, then forced him to start at the bottom at Caldwell. Made him bust his ass on the way to the top of the company. She had never simply given Blake anything, but now that he had a fortune—well, almost had it—he wasn’t willing to let it go that easily. “I just never thought she would resort to blackmail. God rest her soul.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call this blackmail.”

  “Why not? Extortion is extortion. Period.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do it? Do you know what you’re saying?”

  Noah nodded. “Let the inheritance go to charity. She said you could remain as CEO and draw a paycheck. The pay can’t be too bad; I’ve seen your watch.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? Money isn’t everything.”

  “What else is there? No wait, let me guess. There’s family and goodness and love.” Blake ticked off his aunt’s earlier words on his fingers.

  “You shouldn’t be so cynical, Blake.”

  “Give me a break.”

  “I’ll give you some advice—free—and coming from a lawyer that’s a pretty good offer. It’s true what they say: money can’t buy you love.”

  “Love?” Blake snorted. “I come in for legal advice and get a lecture on love. From a divorce attorney, no less.”

  “It can buy freedom,” Noah said as if Blake hadn’t spoken, “but not love.”

  “I don’t want love. I want my inheritance.”

  “Is that all?” Noah arched a skeptical brow.

  “You’ve read the will. If I don’t claim my inheritance Devin doesn’t get his either.”

  “Find another buyer,” Noah said dryly. “There’s much more at stake here than Devin’s inheritance. The truth now, if you please.”

  “All right, all right. I just can’t stand the thought of all that money going to charity. Not that I have anything against charities. I give my fair share.”

  “So it all comes down to good old-fashioned greed.”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. Putting it that way makes it sound like the character flaw it is.”

  “Look who’s talking, Mr. Four-Hundred- Dollars-An-Hour.”

  “That’s three hundred and fifty dollars an hour thank you, though I’m fairly certain you didn’t come here to discuss my fees.”

  Blake sighed. “Before he died, I promised my uncle that I’d do everything in my power to keep Caldwell going.”

  “And?”

  “The board has my hands tied. I need some capital to entice a new designer. Without that, I’m afraid Caldwell won’t be going anywhere but down the tubes.”

  “I don’t understand,” Noah said, his forehead pinched into a frown. “Your uncle built that company from the ground up. He—”

  “Was a fine businessman,” Blake finished. “But times change. And Caldwell hasn’t changed fast enough. Now we’re in trouble, and it all goes in one big, vicious circle. If I don’t marry and receive my inheritance, then I won’t have the money to entice a new designer to work for me. If I don’t hire a new designer, Caldwell Clothing Company will be a thing of the past.”

  ****

  It was official. Paige Parker hated Chicago. She hated the traffic. She hated the ‘L’ train. She hated the crowds and the pollution, the fast food restaurants and the disinterested attitudes of the people she met. If she had any money she would rent a billboard and tell the whole city, maybe even the entire state of Illinois. Then again if she had that kind of money she could buy a plane ticket and go back to where she belonged.

  She should have never left Africa.

  But she had. Why was hindsight always twenty/twenty?

  She had never done anything that would warrant her being a repeated victim of Murphy’s Law.
In fact, just the opposite. She had given her entire life to helping others. Being the daughter of a missionary, helping others was all she knew.

  A lot of good it did her now.

  She was stuck in Chicago with a mother and a sister she barely knew, a terrible position as a temp secretary, and a hankering to return to where things were simple.

  But as it stood now, she barely made enough to cover her day to day expenses. And there was no end in sight.

  With a sigh, Paige looked at the clock, then to the man who had been waiting for almost half an hour to talk to Mr. Anderson.

  “Mr. Bradley, it seems as if Mr. Anderson is running a little behind today.” Sort of. Or at least he wouldn’t be if the man who rushed by her without a word hadn’t managed to get past her and into Anderson’s office. She had to face it: she was a terrible secretary. No doubt she wouldn’t be requested tomorrow, and Paige would once again be staring at the walls of her apartment wondering where her life had gotten so off track.

  “Can I reschedule you for tomorrow?”

  He shook his head.

  “Later this afternoon?” She winced as the voices in the office behind her rose to a fevered pitch.

  “Is everything all right in there?” Mr. Bradley stood, peering around her. Thankfully there was nothing to see.

  “Of course,” she lied. Maybe it’d be better if she just left now and didn’t finish out the day. Well, better for her anyway.

  She stood and grabbed Elmer Bradley’s elbow, steering him toward the door of the office. “Can you call back this afternoon? Maybe we can get you in tomorrow.”

  “I-I guess,” he stammered as she walked him down the hallway and into the main foyer.

  “Good.” She smiled, hoping he couldn’t see the trepidation in her eyes. “Tomorrow, then.” She gave him a little wave and headed back to her desk, wondering when this day would be over.

  She sat down just as the lights on her phone started flashing, alerting her to another call.

  The intercom buzzed and Mr. Anderson’s voice filtered through the speaker, “Patty, bring us a pot of coffee, please.”