Legally Mine

“It’s going to take a lot more than a contract to make me marry you.”

Will took a step toward her, his grin widening. “Then tell me what you want, Janie.”

This was it. He’d sweep her into his arms and kiss her, ravaging her mouth with his lips. And if he did, Jane might as well start shopping for a white dress. At this rate, there was no way she was going to avoid falling in love with Will McCaffrey again, just as she had all those years ago. But she’d be a fool to put her heart at risk again.

“L-let’s suppose for a moment that this contract is legal, which I don’t think it is. It was six years ago. You were drunk and I was…under the influence….” She drew a shaky breath. “Why are you doing this, anyway?”

“I just want you to go out to dinner with me tonight. I want to share a bottle of champagne and get to know you all over again.”

Jane shook her head, her instinct for self-preservation finally kicking in. “No. I’m not going to date you and I’m not going to marry you!”

Will shrugged and stepped away from her. “Then I guess I’ll see you in court.”

Dear Reader,

It’s Harlequin Temptation’s twentieth birthday and we’re ready to do some celebrating. After all, we’re young, we’re legal (well, almost) and we’re old enough to get into trouble! Who could resist?

We’ve been publishing outstanding novels for the past twenty years, and there are many more where those came from. Don’t miss upcoming books by your favorite authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson, Kate Hoffmann, Kristine Rolofson, Jill Shalvis and Leslie Kelly. And Harlequin Temptation has always offered talented new authors to add to your collection. In the next few months look for stories from some of these exciting new finds: Emily McKay, Tanya Michaels, Cami Dalton and Mara Fox.

To celebrate our birthday, we’re bringing back one of our most popular miniseries, Editor’s Choice. Whenever we have a book that’s new, innovative, extraordinary, look for the Editor’s Choice flash. And the first one’s out this month! In Cover Me, talented Stephanie Bond tells the hilarious tale of a native New Yorker who finds herself out of her element and loving it. Written totally in the first person, Cover Me is a real treat. And don’t miss the rest of this month’s irresistible offerings—a naughty Wrong Bed book by Jill Shalvis, another installment of the True Blue Calhouns by Julie Kistler and a delightful Valentine tale by Kate Hoffmann.

So, come be a part of the next generation of Harlequin Temptation. We might be a little wild, but we’re having a whole lot of fun. And who knows—some of the thrill might rub off….

Enjoy,

Brenda Chin

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Temptation

Legally Mine

Kate Hoffmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Sometimes it takes a long time for a story to become a book. And that’s certainly been the case with this one! I proposed this idea to my editors about three or four years ago, but the story kept getting pushed aside to make way for other projects, like those Mighty Quinns. But finally the time had come. And during those years, the story that began as a sweet little romance called The Cupid Contract evolved into a sinfully sensual tale entitled Legally Mine.

What’s even more exciting is that I got to write this book for such a special occasion—Harlequin Temptation’s twentieth anniversary. It’s been wonderful to be a part of Harlequin Temptation’s list of authors for ten of those twenty years. From my first book in 1993, Indecent Exposure, to this one, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed being a part of this wonderful series. And I plan to continue writing for it for a long, long time.

So happy birthday, Temptation. And this book is dedicated to all of you readers who’ve made Harlequin Temptation such a success.

Happy reading!

Kate Hoffmann

Books by Kate Hoffmann

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

795—ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT

821—MR. RIGHT NOW

847—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: CONNOR

851—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: DYLAN

855—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: BRENDAN

933—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: LIAM

937—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: BRIAN

941—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: SEAN

To my readers, who make my stories worth telling.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Prologue

THE STRAINS OF A CELINE DION ballad echoed through the tiny apartment while the scent of vanilla candles permeated the air. Jane Singleton stepped out of the bubble bath and wrapped herself in her chenille robe, then strolled out to the living room, singing along with the love song.

Everything was perfect. The lights were down low, the champagne was on ice, she’d fluffed up her chintz pillows on the sofa, and the chocolate-covered strawberries were chilling in the refrigerator. It was Valentine’s Day and while other girls were fretting over dates and dresses, she was spending the most romantic day of the year pampering herself. After a long, relaxing bath, she was ready to settle in for the evening to enjoy an Audrey Hepburn film festival, starting with her favorite video—Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

She’d always preferred old-fashioned movie romance to the real thing. In classic movies, love was exciting and overwhelming and…perfect. The meager experience she’d had in her life with the real thing had only proved disappointing. Real romance was uncomfortable and nerve-racking and sometimes downright boring. Her fantasies were so much better. So a solitary Valentine’s Day was far preferable to the other option—paralyzing nerves and unfulfilled expectations.

Besides, what more could a girl known as Plain Jane expect? In high school, she’d been the brainy girl who’d never had a boyfriend, who spent every free minute at her studies. Her social life had revolved around science fairs, academic decathlons and orthodontist appointments. Of course, her hard work had won her a full academic scholarship to Northwestern—where she chose to major in botany. But nothing much had changed since graduation, except for the loss of her braces. Though she’d had a few dates, she still hadn’t found the man of her dreams.

Jane picked up her journal and sat down on the sofa, tucking her feet under her. “Another Valentine’s Day without a man,” she murmured as she wrote. “I’m trying to remain optimistic on this bleak occasion. I just haven’t found the right man. The perfect man. My Prince Charming. He’s out there somewhere. I just have to be patient and wait for him to find me—like Paul found Holly Golightly.”

There was one man, a guy who was just about perfect in every way, and even dreamier than George Peppard. When she fantasized about her Prince Charming, it was his face she saw in her dreams. And he lived downstairs, just like Paul had in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Actually Paul had lived upstairs, but that was an insignificant point—considering this guy had never looked at her the way Paul looked at Holly. Or the way Prince Charming looked at Cinderella. Or the way a man was supposed to look at a woman he wanted—with lust in his eyes.

Jane shook her head and closed her journal, tossing it onto the coffee table and refusing to surrender to melancholy. Moping around would make this Valentine’s Day go from moderately lonely to completely pathetic. Still, it was hard to put him out of her mind. Right now, Will McCaffrey, her Prince Charming, was downstairs getting ready for a romantic night on the town with one of his many girlfriends.

Jane knew he had a big night planned. He’d asked her advice on flowers and she’d sent him to her favorite floral shop with a list of choices for an elegant bouquet. She’d ripped a few restaurant reviews out of the Chicago Sun Times and urged him to make a reservation early. And when he’d needed a button sewn on his dress shirt, she’d obliged. She’d even helped him choose the right tie.

“Good old Jane,” she muttered. She and Will had been friends since he’d moved in last year, meeting after her bathtub had overflowed and dripped through his apartment ceiling. He’d helped her sop up the mess, she’d offered him freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk in return, and they’d become friends.

It hadn’t taken long for her to place him squarely in the middle of her fantasies. And it had taken even less time to realize that he’d never fall for a girl like her. Will preferred tall, willowy blondes with stunning smiles and bodies better suited to wear Victoria’s Secret lingerie than comfy chenille robes. His girlfriends were always confident and worldly, and seemed as though they knew exactly how to please a man and weren’t afraid to show him. Jane was short and brunette, with a body that looked more boyish than bodacious and a tongue that got tied in knots worthy of any Boy Scout. The only thing about her that had ever pleased a man was her oatmeal-toffee cookies.

With a soft groan, she grabbed the asplenium nidus from the coffee table. “What would you do, Lulamae?” she murmured, picking at the foliage of the houseplant. “There has to be a way to make him see that I’m a woman, too. I can be sexy and seductive just like those other girls.” But the moment she said it, Jane knew it wasn’t true. She’d never be Holly Golightly, she’d always be Jane Goslowly or Jane Goclumsily or Jane Go—

A knock sounded on the door and she frowned as she set down the plant and crawled off the sofa. When she opened the door, her best friend, Lisa Harper, rushed in, a garment bag dangling from her hand.

“You have to help me,” she said. “I can’t decide on the red dress or the black. I think the red makes my butt look like Montana. And the black one shows entirely too much cleavage. And I wanted to borrow that beaded choker that you bought at Navy Pier last month. Oh, and I need a decent coat to wear. A jacket would look really stupid and make my butt look like Asia.” She stopped babbling long enough to look around. “Are you expecting company?”

Jane forced a laugh. “No, just a quiet night alone—me, my plants, Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard.”

Lisa groaned. “Oh, not Breakfast at Tiffany’s again! How many times can you watch that movie?”

“It’s timeless,” Jane said. “It’s the most perfectly romantic movie ever.”

“Why don’t you come out with me and Roy? You’ll eat a fancy meal and drink too much champagne and you’ll feel like a new woman.”

“This is only your third date. I don’t think Roy would appreciate me tagging along.” Jane unzipped the garment bag and examined the two dresses. “Wear the red and don’t worry about your butt. You can borrow my black cashmere coat. And the necklace is in my jewelry box.”

Lisa gave her a quick hug. “You’re a peach!” She raced into the bedroom, while Jane settled back on the sofa. Lisa never seemed to be without a date and she’d tried to set Jane up any number of times. But Jane had always felt blind dates were for desperate, love-starved girls who couldn’t find a man on their own—and she wasn’t about to admit defeat so soon. She still had two and a half years of undergrad left and a whole campus full of possibilities.

“All right,” Lisa said as she rushed back through the living room. “Are you sure you won’t come? Roy’s roommate isn’t doing anything tonight. We could make it a double date. He’s really cute.”

“Maybe another time,” Jane said, certain that Roy’s roommate—cute or not—would be less than enthusiastic about a last-minute date with her. Besides, Jane’s mother had brought her up to believe in the old-fashioned conventions of dating and romance, conventions that required a man to make the first move and a woman to wait patiently until he did.

Lisa shrugged. “All right. But I’ll see you tomorrow at the library. We have to study for our cell biology exam.”

As Lisa hurried out of the apartment, Jane sighed softly. She’d just have to make a plan to get out and meet more men. She and Lisa could hit one of the many bars near the campus. Or she could get involved in some extracurricular activities, or take a class that didn’t include so many science geeks.

“See, things are looking up already,” she said as she grabbed the remote. “I’ve got a plan.”

The opening credits had just finished when a sharp rap interrupted her again. Jane rolled her eyes and scrambled off the sofa. “What did you forget?” she asked as she yanked open the door, expecting to find Lisa with another request. Her breath caught in her throat when she looked up into Will McCaffrey’s startling blue eyes.

He wore a suit, but his shirt collar was open and his tie askew. His dark hair was mussed, giving him a slightly rumpled look, as if he’d just crawled out of bed. With a gallant gesture, he whipped a huge bouquet of English roses out from behind his back. He frowned as he took in the candlelit room, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve interrupted something.”

“No, no, it’s all right.” She took the flowers and stepped aside to let him enter, the distinct scent of whiskey following him inside. When he stumbled slightly, she reached out to grab his arm. “Are—are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right,” he mumbled, throwing himself down on her sofa and covering his eyes with his arm. He held up the nearly empty bottle he carried. “I’m almost out of whiskey and I’m not nearly drunk enough yet.” He sat up straight. “Do you have any whiskey?”

“No,” Jane said. “I have champagne and some wine coolers. And I think I might have some peppermint schnapps. It—it tastes good in hot chocolate and sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I—”

“Bring on the schnapps,” he shouted, throwing out his arms. “Let the celebration begin.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“My absolute ignorance when it comes to the inner workings of the female mind.” He took another swallow of the whiskey. “You’re a female, right?”

Jane slowly sat down beside him. “I am.” No surprise he had to ask. He’d certainly never noticed. When he looked at her, he saw the shy, unremarkable girl who lived in the apartment above his, the girl with all the houseplants and the sofa full of embroidered pillows and the collection of old movies.

But she’d noticed everything about him—the light in his eyes when he was amused, and the way his hair curled around the collar of his shirt, the tiny dimple in his left cheek when he smiled, and the beauty of his hands. Will McCaffrey had been the subject of countless vivid and detailed romantic dreams, dreams that featured those beautiful hands on her naked body. “What happened? Did you and Amy have a fight?”

“I went to pick her up for dinner and found a note taped to the door. She met someone else, some football player. She was afraid to tell me, afraid to ruin my Valentine’s Day. Can you believe that? It’s over between us. Yesterday, we were together and now we’re…finished.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane lied.

“Not as sorry as I am.” He frowned. “I guess I’ve been dumped. I’ve never been dumped before.” Will stretched his arms across the back of the sofa, his hand brushing against her nape as he did. “So, this is how it feels.”

Jane pressed the roses to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled, deliberately quelling a satisfied smile. She’d met Amy and found her conceited and self-absorbed and far too obsessed with her figure. “You’re probably better off without her.”

“Damn straight.”

She risked a glance at him, allowing her gaze to take in his profile, the chiseled jaw and the sensuous mouth and the impossibly straight nose. His eyes were closed and for a moment, she thought he might be asleep. But then he shifted slightly. “There’s a perfect girl out there for you, Will. You just have to find her. She might be closer than you think.”

“Amy was perfect.”

“No, she wasn’t. Because she didn’t love you as much as I—” Jane swallowed hard. “As I think you deserve to be loved.”

Will opened his eyes and looked at her. “You’re sweet, Janie. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

He said it as if the thought had just occurred to him. A warm flush crept up her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the flowers.

“You are,” Will insisted, curling his arm around her to toy with a strand of hair that brushed her cheek. “You’re just about the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

In a heartbeat, he’d pulled her into his arms, giving Jane a fierce hug, fueled more by whiskey than passion. Her first impulse was to pull away, but then she realized this might be the opportunity she’d been hoping for. Sure he was drunk, but a girl had to take her breaks where she got them. So she slipped her arms around his waist.

When he drew back, he stared down at her, his gaze skimming her features like a silent caress. Jane held her breath, waiting for him to make the next move, praying that he’d just throw caution to the wind and kiss her. Her heart slammed in her chest and she was certain he could hear it. Every nerve in her body jangled with anticipation—of the warmth of his lips on hers, of the taste of him when his tongue invaded her mouth, of the feel of his hands on her naked skin.

Will smiled and drew his thumb across her lower lip, his eyes fixed on her mouth. But suddenly, his mood shifted. “I’m never going to find anyone,” he said, letting his hands fall away. He sank back into the cushions and took another swallow of the whiskey. “I’m twenty-four years old. My father expects certain things from me. He expects me to get my law degree this spring and then he expects me to work for the family business. I’ve got so many ideas for the company and someday, I’m going to run the whole show, just you watch. McCaffrey Commercial Properties is going to be my company and it’s going to be the biggest in Chicago.” Will drew a ragged breath. “And he expects me to find a wife and start a family.”

“Today?” Jane asked.

“No. But soon,” Will said.

“You have plenty of time.”

Will shook his head. “I’ve dated a lot of girls, Jane. And in the beginning, it always seems like I’ve found the one. But then something happens and I realize she’s not exactly what I’m looking for.” He drained the bottle of whiskey and leaned forward to set it on the coffee table. “You know, Amy really had ugly feet. And when she laughed, it sounded like she had the hiccups.”

“Can I get you something more to drink?”

He turned back to her and sent her a sleepy smile. “You’re sweet.” Will reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Yes, you have,” Jane reminded him, slightly impatient. Not that she didn’t like hearing it.

“But you are,” he said. “You’re always there for me, Janie. You care about me.”

“You’re my friend,” Jane murmured.

He leaned forward and when his lips brushed hers, a startled sigh slipped from her throat. He took the sound as surrender and captured her mouth in a kiss so unexpected, yet so stirring Jane felt her heart swell. His tongue teased hers and she knew she’d never been kissed like this before. There had been boys in her past, clumsy, fumbling boys who couldn’t kiss, much less voice a romantic sentiment. But she’d never had a man, a man like Will McCaffrey who could stir this desire she hadn’t known she possessed.

As the kiss spun out, her mind whirled with questions. Was this the beginning of something between them? Had he also harbored a secret crush? Or was this just a side effect of all the whiskey he’d drunk? As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Jane realized it didn’t make any difference. Will McCaffrey was kissing her! And if she thought too much about it, she might just wake up and find out this was all a dream.

And just as quickly as the kiss began, it ended. Will straightened and stared down at her, an earnest look in his eyes. “I have a really good idea. If I’m not married by the time I’m thirty and you’re still single, would you marry me?”

Jane gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. She’d imagined this moment so many times in a wide variety of scenarios, with a wide range of potential fiancés. But she’d never imagined this situation—her dressed in an unflattering chenille robe, him drunk and despairing over another woman. “You—you’re not serious,” she said, her voice cracking. “You’re drunk and you’re upset with Amy.”

“I am serious,” Will insisted, his words slurred by the liquor. He shoved up from the sofa and crossed the room to her desk. “I need paper.”

“In the top tray,” Jane said. “Are you going to write Amy a note?”

When he returned to her side, he had a pen in his hand as well. “Nope. I’m going to write a contract. An agreement between us that if you’re free and I’m free, we’ll get married.”

“What? You’re just going to write it down and it will be a contract?”

“Sure. I got an A in my contracts course. I can write a basic agreement. It’s simple. If we’re both free, then we’ll get married.”

“Don’t we need a witness or a notary or something?”

“We’ll just have to find a witness,” Will murmured. He reached for the whiskey bottle and when he noticed it was empty, he dropped it on the floor.

Jane sat next to him on the sofa, her feet tucked beneath her, as she watched him write out the contract. She tried to read his expression, to figure out where the spontaneous proposal had come from. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized the proposal was all just a silly exercise to soothe his bruised ego.

As he worked, Jane wandered into the kitchen and found the bottle of champagne she’d put in the ice bucket. A marriage contract was probably something worth celebrating, she mused, as she popped the cork. She filled a champagne flute and guzzled the entire glass, hoping that it might give her a bit more courage. There had to be a way to get him to kiss her again.

As she passed the window in the kitchen, Jane caught her reflection and groaned softly. The chenille robe made her look like a sausage, tied in the middle. She might attract a few hungry Germans with an outfit like that, but Will expected more. She took the clip out of her hair and let it tumble down around her face, then pinched her cheeks. Changing wasn’t an option, so instead, she loosened the tie of her robe until the neck draped open a bit more.

Drawing a deep breath, Jane grabbed a second champagne flute and walked back to the sofa. “Would you like some champagne? Or I could get you something else.”

He glanced up at her and smiled, his gaze dropping to her cleavage. Instinctively Jane followed his gaze and noticed she really didn’t have anything to show. Her hand flitted to her robe and she drew it back together again, embarrassed by her feeble attempt at seduction. She went to sit down beside him, but a soft rap at the door stopped her.

Will glanced up. “Are you expecting someone?”

Jane shook her head, frustrated by the interruption. When she opened the door, she found their landlady, Mrs. Doheny, standing in the hall, a paper plate filled with frosted heart-shaped cookies in her hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jane,” she said with a cheerful smile.

“I—I’m almost done,” Will called. “Who’s at the door?”

Mrs. Doheny peered over Jane’s shoulder. “Is that Will? Will McCaffrey, I just dropped a plate of cookies at your door. I thought you’d be out romancing one of your pretty girlfriends tonight.” She gave him a little wave. “Happy Valentine’s Day, William!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” he said, sending the landlady a wide smile. “I can’t let Valentine’s Day pass without a kiss from my best girl.”

At first, Jane thought Will was talking about her. But then Mrs. Doheny clucked her tongue and bustled inside. When she reached the sofa, Will stood and planted a kiss on the old woman’s cheek. A blush stained her pale skin. Even the widow Doheny couldn’t resist him, Jane mused. Will could charm the orthopedic stockings off any eighty-year-old.