The answer is certainly yes, such cases do exist.
But before I show you a few, please try to keep in mind the advice from Oxford University Press cited at the end of The Economist’s Style Guide’s section on hyphens:
If you take hyphens seriously, you will surely go mad.
Yes, they buried their own lede. I didn’t.
So now let’s look at some places where it’s useful. Just don’t forget not to go mad.
One place hyphens come in handy is for three-word sequences where it isn’t clear just which of the second words the first one is supposed to apply to — so unlike for three word-sequences.
In writing you use a hyphen to clarify the intonation pattern that you cannot hear spoken intonation in the written word, which would otherwise give it away.
Compare:
- “I’d like a rotten-cheese sandwich” means one made of cheese that’s gone off.
- “I’d like a rotten cheese-sandwich” means just a lousy sandwich overall.
Or suppose you have different sorts of targets, some for individual seasons or quarters, others that are annual, and some that span multiple years:
- “Completing multiple year targets” means meeting several annual targets.
- “Completing multiple-year targets” means meeting targets that each span several years.
Or consider if you are choosing between several alternatives, where some of those alternatives are researched and some are not. Then you get this difference:
- Choosing several of the best-researched alternatives.
- Choosing several of the best researched alternatives.
Or suppose you want to distinguish between heavy- and light-weight metal detectors and detectors of heavy metals:
- Some heavy-metal detectors are detectors of heavy metals.
- Some heavy metal detectors are detectors that weigh a lot.
In speech, you naturally stress those two possibilities differently.
It’s difficult to demonstrate prosody patterns here, but you should get the idea. Sometimes intonation is obvious simply from the writing, as in the difference between:
- running shoes
- running scared
There I’ve set the stressed word in italic, which is another way writers indicate unusual stress. A hyphen can work the same way without drawing quite so much attention to itself.
In the Johnson column from The Economist from 26 July 2010 titled “What it's really like to be copy-edited”, they note the following about compounds, with bold emphasis mine:
Many interesting things can be said about compounds. They come in noun-noun ("kitchen-table issues"), adjective-noun ("private-sector wages"), adjective-adjective ("blue-green flowers") and other varieties. In writing, they tend to enter the language as two words. If they survive and are used frequently, they often pass through a period of hyphenation before fusing. (My 1933 OED includes only "year-book", not "yearbook", the latter now nearly universal.) In (English) speech, we know that a compound has begun to be fused, with a specific meaning, when the stress moves to the first syllable. When photographers first began developing glass plates, they looked for a dark room; now, they use a specialised room, a dárkroom, which (as Steven Pinker notes) can be lit, just as a blackboard can be green.
So these things come and go, and you shouldn’t take them too seriously.