“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

MILLS & BOON

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A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR…

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.

“Mrs. Doheny, you’re just in time,” Will said, drawing her down to sit next to him. “You can be our witness.”

“Witness? To what?” She set the cookies on the coffee table.

“Just a little agreement between me and Jane,” he explained. “You just need to watch us sign and then sign yourself. Jane, you’re first.” He handed her the pen and then the paper, covered with his lazy scrawl.

What had begun as a silly joke suddenly seemed dead serious. Was this really a contract? Was it legal? She glanced down at the text, but then brushed aside her concerns. This was a joke. Besides, even if the contract was real, Will was drunk. Even she knew a person couldn’t sign a contract when they were drunk. And there was no way Will McCaffrey was going to show up in six years demanding she marry him. After all, he was…well, he was Will McCaffrey and she was Jane Singleton. Enough said.

“Are you sure you did this right?” she teased, trying to keep her tone light. “Once I tie you up in legalities, I don’t want you to get away on a technicality.”

“It’s all there,” he said, watching her put pen to paper. “Aren’t you going to read it before you sign?”

“No, I trust you.” She scribbled her name on the bottom and handed the contract back to him. “Now you.”

Will stared at the contract for a long moment and Jane wondered if he was already reconsidering, thinking about Amy, about how he might get her back and persuade her to marry him. Then he quickly signed it and handed it to Mrs. Doheny. She did the same, with a flourish and a little giggle. “What am I signing?”

Will took the paper and pen from her. “Nothing important. Just a little agreement between me and Jane.”

Mrs. Doheny nodded, then stood up and headed for the door. “Well, I have more cookies to deliver. I’ll see you two later. Toodles!”

When she’d closed the door behind her, Jane sighed softly, almost afraid to look at Will. She touched her lips, her mind returning to the kiss they’d shared. She could either act like it hadn’t happened or she could…she could. Jane reached down for the tie to her robe. She could slip out of the unflattering garment and see what happened. Her fingers fumbled at the knot and Jane felt the robe gape open as she turned to face him. Oh, God, her mother would never approve, but if she waited for Will to make another move, she might have to wait forever. And though she’d always considered herself to be a bit old-fashioned, this situation called for a woman who was thoroughly modern, a woman who could make her needs known and get them satisfied at the same time.

Will’s gaze skimmed her body as she approached and then he suddenly jumped up from the sofa. “I’ve got to go, too,” he murmured.

Jane froze, her fingers still fumbling with the tie to her robe. “Sure,” she said. “Right. It’s getting late and I—well, I have—” She swallowed hard. “Plans.” Jane quickly hurried to the door and yanked it open.

He smiled, carefully folding the contract and slipping it into the breast pocket of his jacket. Then he pulled out his wallet and handed her a five-dollar bill. “This is consideration,” he said.

Confused, Jane took the money. “That is considerate of you,” she said. “I can always use laundry money.”

“No, it makes the contract binding.” His gaze caught hers and for a long moment, it held. Jane wondered what was going through his mind, if he was remembering how it felt to kiss her—or how it might feel to do more. “I guess I’ll see you later, Janie.”

“Later,” she repeated.

When she closed the door behind him, Jane leaned back against it, biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. If she’d only been smarter, or prettier, or sexier, she could have convinced him to stay. She could have lured him into her bed and they could have made love all night long. Then, for the first time in her life, she could have had a Valentine’s Day worth remembering.

She drew a ragged breath and wandered back to the sofa. Picking up the remote, she settled back onto the sofa. Suddenly her evening seemed empty and pathetic compared to the memory of the kiss they’d shared.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she brushed it away, forcing her lips into a smile. “Well, at least I can say I was kissed on Valentine’s Day,” she murmured. “Even if he doesn’t remember it in the morning.”

1

“WHY CAN’T YOU BE MORE LIKE Ronald? He’s the son I never had.”

Will McCaffrey stifled a groan and clutched the back of one of the guest chairs in his father’s office. “You had a son, Dad. You still do. Me.”

“Lately, Ronald’s more like a son than you are.”

Hell, he hated this conversation. He’d been through this with his father at least once a month for the past two years, ever since Jim McCaffrey had decided to retire. Choosing a successor had come down to two choices—Jim’s dull but dependable son-in-law, Ronald. Or Will, who hadn’t quite lived up to paternal expectations.

“Tell me,” Will countered, “was Ronald the son who doubled this company’s net worth in just four years? Did Ronald go out and get us the Winterbrook project or the West Washington development deal?” He paused for effect. “No, wait. That was your other son. The son who has worked his ass off for this company. Now what was his name?”

Will served as corporate counsel and executive vice president for McCaffrey Commercial Properties, but he’d worked his way up from the bottom, starting when he was just a junior in high school and ending in a permanent position when he graduated from law school. He had the brains and the drive to continue what his father had begun thirty years ago, to make it even better. What he didn’t have was a wife—which for some bizarre reason, known only to his father, would instantly turn him into CEO material.

Just the thought of marriage made him nervous. He understood the concept and its allure, and he even believed in happily-ever-afters. He’d seen his parents’ marriage and knew it was possible. But he also knew that happiness could be snatched away in just a blink of an eye.

“Ronald is not prepared to run this company,” Will said in an even tone, picking up an old copy of Business Week and flipping through it casually. “He’s too conservative, he has to triple-think every decision and then half the time he makes the wrong choice. Have you ever watched him order lunch? ‘I’ll have the salmon—no wait, how is the strip steak? Well, maybe I should have a salad. Has anyone tried the veal chop?’ It’s a wonder the guy hasn’t starved by now.”

“No wonder at all,” his father countered. “He has a wife at home who makes him dinner every night.”

“Why does a wife, three children and a house in the suburbs qualify him to run this company?”

“He’s settled. He’s made choices in his life and he has responsibilities to look out for, namely your sister and my grandchildren. I don’t have to worry that he’ll run off to Fiji with the next stewardess he meets.”

“They’re called flight attendants. And who says I can’t take a vacation every now and then?”

His father scowled. “You called on Tuesday afternoon to say you wouldn’t be in to work on Monday morning.”

“I got confused with time change. That whole thing with the International Date Line is very complicated.”

His father sighed. “I know you have your wild oats to sow, Will. But life comes down to choices. You can’t stay a bachelor the rest of your life.”

Will felt his frustration grow. Why did it always have to come down to this same old argument? It wasn’t as if he was avoiding marriage, he just hadn’t found the right woman—the perfect woman. Hell, he’d never driven the same car for more than a year. How was he supposed to choose a mate for the next fifty years? “Not everyone is going to have what you and Mom had,” he muttered.

Just the thought of his mother brought a twinge of grief, even after all these years. Laura Sellars McCaffrey had died when Will was just twelve and his sister ten, and since then it had been just the three of them. After her death, Jim McCaffrey had thrown himself into work, turning his small real-estate brokerage into one of Chicago’s most successful commercial developers. In the process, he’d left his two children to grieve on their own, and to raise themselves.

Melanie had retreated behind the responsibilities of running the household, learning to be the perfect substitute for her mother. When she was barely twenty, she’d married her high-school sweetheart, Ronald Williams. He’d come to work for the family business, she’d joined the garden club and, together, they’d produced three perfect children.

Will had had the opposite reaction to his mother’s death. He could barely stand to stay in the house, memories of her infused every room. He’d found comfort in friends, first his buddies from school and then, as he’d grown older, pretty girls. Somewhere along the line, the girls had become women, always bright and very beautiful. And though he’d always assumed he’d find a wife someday, the women he dated always seemed to fall short.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Marry someone I don’t love just so I can say I’m married?”

“You’ve introduced me to six or seven of your girlfriends, any one of whom would have made you a decent wife. You need to grow up and decide what’s important to you—your future or the next beautiful woman to cross your path.” Jim McCaffrey crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m going to retire in April. Either you get your personal life in order or you’ll be taking orders from Ronald.”

Will’s jaw clenched and he decided to make his escape while he could, before his father brought up more reasons why Will would never occupy the corner office and he was goaded into a knock-down-drag-out fight. Maybe he ought to just forget about a future with the family business. He was a good lawyer. Hell, he’d even taught a few seminars at his alma mater. And he couldn’t count the number of law school buddies who called each week asking his opinion on some matter of real-estate law. He’d had job offers from most of the major firms in the city over the past few years, why not just start fresh?

He retreated to his office, closing the door behind him. When he’d settled into his well-worn chair, Will groaned softly. How could he consider leaving? This business was in his blood—the excitement of putting a deal together, of anticipating the problems and smoothing them over, of watching an empty piece of land become a vital part of the city. He’d helped build the business. By rights, it should be his someday.

Will snatched up the messages his secretary had placed on his desk, but his mind was still occupied with his father’s demands. Love and marriage had been so easy for his sister. She’d known exactly who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with by the time she was twenty. He was thirty years old and he wasn’t any closer to finding Miss Right.

The way his father talked, it all sounded so simple. Find a woman, fall in love, get married and live happily-ever-after. But love had never come easily to Will. Even after all these years, he could still remember the way his mother had looked at his father, as if he could do no wrong. The gentle teasing way his father had made his mother laugh. The secret whispers and stolen kisses when they’d both thought the children weren’t looking. That was love—and Will had never once experienced even a small measure of that kind of devotion.

A knock sounded on the office door and Will glanced up to see his secretary, Mrs. Arnstein, walk inside. After he had dated and broken up with three separate secretaries, his father had decided to choose a secretary for him, a woman who would defy temptation. And Mrs. Arnstein was just that. A former Army drill sergeant, the woman was coldly efficient and painstakingly proper. She also outweighed Will by a good twenty or thirty pounds.

“I have your mail,” she said. “The contracts came for the Bucktown condo project. And the estimates came in for the DePaul renovation.” She held up a glossy magazine. “And your Northwestern alumni magazine came. You’re listed in the class notes this month.”

Will took the offered magazine. “How did they find out about me?”

“They sent a questionnaire a few months ago. You told me to fill it out for you. You didn’t have time.”

The alumni notes took up the last six or seven pages of the magazine. Will scanned the columns for his name, then realized they were listed by year of graduation. But as he flipped back to the previous page, a familiar name caught his eye.

“Did you find it?” Mrs. Arnstein asked.

“No.” He quickly closed the magazine. “I’ll look for it later. I have work to do.”

The moment his secretary closed the door behind her, he snatched the magazine up and returned to the page. “Jane Singleton, B.S. Botany, 2000,” he read out loud. “Jane runs her own landscape business, Windy City Gardens, and has designed and installed a wide variety of residential and commercial gardens in the Chicago area.”

He hadn’t thought about Janie Singleton for—God, how long had it been? Five, maybe six years? “Now she would have made a perfect wife,” he murmured. “She was sweet and attentive and—” He paused, memories flooding his brain. Will slowly pushed out of his chair and crossed his office to the bookshelves that lined one wall, scanning the volumes until his found his contracts text from law school. Holding his breath, he opened the front cover.

It was right where he’d put it years ago. He’d come across it when he’d unpacked his books after law school and had almost tossed it out. But then he’d tucked it inside the cover where it had stayed until this moment, just a silly memory of a night long ago.

Will unfolded the paper and slowly read it, surprised that he’d managed to write a pretty decent contract with such limited practical experience. The terms were clear and he’d covered all contingencies. Hell, if the contract was challenged in court, it might just hold up. An idea flashed in his brain and he pushed it aside. “No, I can’t.”

He dropped the contract onto his desk and turned to his computer to get back to work. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he might have an easy solution to all his problems. Janie Singleton. She was exactly the kind of woman his father would love. And if his father saw that Will was dating an “appropriate” woman, then perhaps he’d soften his stance, maybe delay his decision until Will did find a wife.

He picked up the phone and dialed his secretary’s extension. “Mrs. Arnstein, I need a phone number and address for Windy City Gardens. It’s a landscape contractor here in Chicago. And could you see if you can find a home phone number for a Jane Singleton? She probably lives in the city.”

He sat on the edge of his desk, rereading the blurb in the magazine. A landscape contractor, that’s what she’d become. She’d always loved plants, so it seemed like a natural fit. And knowing her drive and determination, no doubt the business was a success.

He could only speculate on her personal life. The newsletter listed her maiden name, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t stumbled across the man of her dreams in the past six years. After all, Jane was smart and pretty and she’d make any man a great wife.

He picked up the paper and let his gaze skim over the words of the contract. Though it was written well, any judge with half a brain would toss it out in court. Still, it was a place to start, an excuse to call Jane and catch up on old times. If he was lucky, he could rekindle his relationship with her and just see where it went.

The soft ring of his phone interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. McCaffrey, I have an address for Windy City Gardens. It’s 1489 North Damen in Wicker Park.” Will scribbled down the address and the phone number as his secretary read them. “I couldn’t find a home phone. There were seven J. Singletons but no Janes.”

“Fine.”

Will ripped the address from the legal pad, stuffed it into his pocket and grabbed his keys. As he walked out, he stopped at Mrs. Arnstein’s desk. “Cancel my appointments for this afternoon.”

“You’re not going to Fiji again, are you?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

He smirked. “No. Just over to Wicker Park. If there’s an emergency, you can get me on my cell phone.”

The midday traffic was light on the drive to the Wicker Park neighborhood, and fifteen minutes later, Will pulled up across the street from a small office building. A sign in a street-level window indicated he was at the right place. Even so, he couldn’t seem to get out of the car.

“This is crazy,” he murmured. “She could be married or involved. I can’t just show up and expect her to be thrilled to see me.” He reached down to put the car into gear, then froze as he saw a figure step out the front door of the building. Will recognized her immediately, her dark hair and delicate frame, the profile that defined the word “cute.” She stood on the sidewalk and talked with a slender blonde who seemed vaguely familiar. A few moments later, they walked in different directions, Jane crossing the street and heading toward his car.

Without thinking, he pushed the door open and stepped out. “Jane?” She stopped and glanced around, her gaze finally coming to rest on him. Will leaned over the top of the car door. “Jane Singleton?”

“Will?” A smile broke across her face and he felt his heart warm. She was happy to see him. “My gosh, Will McCaffrey, you’re the last person I expected to run into today.”

“I thought it was you,” he said, trying to feign total surprise. Will stared at her. It was the same Jane, but she was different. Features that had once been a bit plain had changed into something quite striking, not cute at all, but beautiful. She’d been a nineteen-year-old girl when he’d last seen her. Now, she was definitely a woman.

“What are you doing here?” Jane asked.

He slammed the car door and circled the hood to stand in front of her. “I…I was just heading…up the street, to a restaurant.” Will reached out and before he realized what he was doing, he’d grabbed her hand. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but now that he had, he realized how much he’d missed her.

For two years, Janie had been a constant in his life, a friend who’d been there whenever he’d needed her. A sliver of guilt shot through him. And he’d never taken the time to thank her, or even to return the favors she’d so eagerly done for him. He stared down at her hand and slowly rubbed his thumb along her wrist. “It’s really good to see you, Janie.”

She shifted nervously and tugged her hand away. “What restaurant?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know the name,” he said. “I just know it’s on this block.” He smiled. “You look great. It’s been a long time. What have you been up to?”

“A long time,” she repeated. “Yes, it has. Six years almost. I think the last time I saw you was the day you graduated from law school. We were going to keep in touch but then…well, you know how it goes. I got so busy and…”

“I’m sorry we didn’t,” Will said, the sentiment sincere.

“Me, too.”

As he stood in front of her, he fought the urge to touch her again, to drag her into his arms and reassure himself that it was really Jane. Memories of her flooded his mind, memories that he hadn’t even recalled storing away. The long, thick lashes that ringed her dark eyes. The perfect shape of her mouth, like a tiny Cupid’s bow. And the scent of her, like fresh air and spring flowers. “You know, I don’t have to be at the restaurant for a half hour. Maybe you and I could have a cup of coffee?”

She stepped back, as if the invitation caught her by surprise. “I—I can’t,” Jane said. “I—I’m late for an appointment. But it was really nice seeing you, Will.”

“Well, then dinner,” Will insisted. “Whenever you like. How about this weekend? There’s this terrific new Asian restaurant downtown. You like Asian food, don’t you?”

“This weekend won’t work,” Jane said. “Listen, it was great seeing you again.”

“Lunch?” Will asked. “You must eat lunch.”

“I never have time.” She gave him a little wave and rushed off down the sidewalk, looking back just once.

Will stood at the car, stunned at how quickly it was over. He watched until she turned a corner. “Well, that was just great,” he muttered. “If I can’t talk her into a cup of coffee, how am I going to convince her to date me?” A soft curse slipped from his lips, but then he remembered the contract. He’d just try again—and again, if he had to. And if Jane Singleton continued to resist his charms and refuse his invitations, he’d just have to use the only weapon he had—the law.

“MAYBE WE COULD ASK FOR an extension on the rent.”

Jane Singleton pressed her fingers to her temples and stared at the spreadsheet program on her computer, knowing that the suggestion wouldn’t make any difference. The columns of numbers blurred in front of her eyes and she caught herself daydreaming again, her mind wandering back to her encounter with Will McCaffrey last week.

He’d looked so good, the same, but different, more polished and sophisticated. When she’d first seen him standing next to his car, Jane had been certain he was a figment of her imagination. But he had been real, and after all these years, he still had the capacity to send her pulse into overdrive and turn her brain into mush.

Overwhelmed and exasperated by her reaction, she’d made a quick escape. Though she’d once harbored a secret crush on Will McCaffrey, she’d finally managed to put her fantasies aside. She was a grown woman now, not some silly schoolgirl.

Still, Will wasn’t making it easy. He’d called three times since their chance meeting to ask her out and over and over again, she’d come up with a litany of feeble excuses. She’d been tempted, but Jane knew she could never trust herself around him—he could make her fall in love all over again with just a simple smile.

“Jane!”

She jerked up and placed her palms on her desk. “What? I was listening. The numbers just don’t add up. Right. I can see that. We’re not going to have enough to keep the office.”

Lisa Harper shook her head. “All right. What’s wrong? You’ve been distracted all morning. I know we’re under a lot of pressure here, but you’re always so focused at times like these. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Lisa had been her friend since freshman year in college and her business partner since they’d founded Windy City Gardens after they’d graduated. But Lisa had spent too many evenings listening to Jane babble about Will McCaffrey to have him reappear in their conversations again. “It’s nothing,” Jane murmured.

“Tell me.”

“You won’t like it,” Jane warned her.

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to tell me every little detail about your life. It’s part of the deal. We talk about highly personal matters, you insist that I look skinny in everything I wear, you encourage me to eat more chocolate because it’s good for my skin, and you—”

“If I tell you, you have to promise this isn’t going to become a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. Whenever we discuss my personal life and you have an opinion, you want to talk about it over and over and analyze it. And then, once you’ve decided what I should do, you won’t let up until I do it. If I tell you this, you have to promise to just drop it, all right?”

“Promise,” Lisa said, drawing a cross over her heart.

“I saw Will McCaffrey last week.”

Lisa’s expression turned from genuine interest to outright disbelief. “Oh, no. Not again. You haven’t mentioned his name for nearly two years. We are not bringing him back into conversation. The man has ruined you for all men.”

“How is that?”

“Because you haven’t met one man in the past six years that you haven’t compared to Will McCaffrey. You’d think the guy was some kind of god. He’s just a jerk who never appreciated you while he was around.”

“He was right across the street. He was getting out of his car and I was on my way to the Armstrong appointment and there he was, just standing there.”

Lisa covered her ears. “La, la, la, la, la. I’m not listening. I can’t hear you.”

Jane reached out and pulled Lisa’s hands from her ears. “All right. I won’t talk about him. Let’s get back to business.” She drew a deep breath. “It’s November. Even if we bring in ten new contracts for the spring, we’re not going to get paid until at least April. We knew the risks when we decided to go into the landscaping business in Chicago. Gardens don’t grow in the winter.”

“So what did he say?” Lisa asked.

“I think our only option is to diversify. We’ll do Christmas decorations. Put up outdoor lights, decorate trees. We can call some of our competitors, see if they’re too busy. They could subcontract some of their jobs to us.”

“Is he still as handsome as he always was?” Lisa wriggled in her chair. “He always was a hottie. And he knew it, too. I guess it’s too much to hope that he’s gained fifty pounds and has developed a bad case of acne.”

“We cut costs as much as we can,” Jane continued, sending Lisa a quelling glare. “We get rid of the office and transfer the phone. We’ll have to keep the garage for equipment storage. And we call all our past and present clients and offer up our services as Christmas decorators. And then we find a place that will give us a cut rate on twinkle lights.” A tiny smile was all that Jane could muster. There was one good thing about being an eternal optimist. Even in the face of impending disaster, she could keep her wits about her. But it wasn’t easy when things looked this bad. “Even with the Christmas jobs, I’m still not going to be able to make my rent. I’m two months behind and I have less than one hundred dollars in my checking account.”

“Can we please talk about Will?” Lisa pleaded.

Jane eyed her business partner. “I thought you didn’t want to hear about him.”

“All right. I admit. I’m curious and we might as well get it out of the way so we can get down to business.”

It didn’t take much encouragement for Jane to spill the beans. She’d been thinking about him nonstop for nearly six days and she felt as if she were about to burst into flames unless she put her thoughts into words. “He looked different. Handsome and sexy. And respectable. He was wearing a suit that made his shoulders look so broad, and his hair was shorter. But he’s still just as confident and charming as ever.”

“What did he say?”

“I really can’t remember. The moment he touched me I just—” Jane fluttered her fingers around her face. “I got all flustered. He asked me out, first to coffee, then to dinner and then to lunch. You would have been proud of me. I said no and then I got out of there before I starting drooling all over him.”

“You turned him down.”

“Yes. And not just then. He’s called me three times this past week to ask me out again. But I’m strong. I’ve decided going out with him would be a big mistake and I’m determined never to see him again. It was just a chance meeting and it’s over.”

“So he still did it to you,” Lisa muttered. “He still made your heart race and your palms sweat?”

“No,” Jane cried. “Well, maybe, a little. But I’m a different person now. I’m not that silly girl who filled up journal after journal with her fantasies about him. I’m not that girl who wasted sleep dreaming about him. Not anymore,” she lied. Although there had been more than a few very vivid dreams over the past nights, dreams that had featured a tall, dark man who looked a lot like Will. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

“You mean David?”

“Yes. Last month we had two dates. He took me to that play and we went to see a movie together. And we had dinner afterward. He’s sweet and polite and handsome. The kind of man I can trust. The kind of man who won’t break my heart.”

David Martin was an architect who had first contacted Windy City Gardens to do the landscaping for a home he’d designed. They’d worked with him on six other projects and he and Jane had formed a friendship. Though David seemed happy with the occasional date, Jane had always hoped that their relationship would progress to something a bit more intimate than a chaste peck on the cheek at the end of the evening.

“I still think he’s gay,” Lisa said, her voice tinged with suspicion.

“He is not! He’s just well-dressed and well-groomed. Just because he pays particular attention to his appearance doesn’t make him gay.”

“Don’t you remember what brought you together? Your mutual love of Celine Dion and Audrey Hepburn.”

“We share common interests. He’s a sweet, sensitive, understanding man—unlike Will McCaffrey who wouldn’t think of sitting through an Audrey Hepburn double feature.”

“Back to Will McCaffrey again,” Lisa murmured.

“If I had a choice between David Martin and Will McCaffrey, I’d choose David every day of the week and twice on Sundays.”

The bell on the front door rang and they both turned to watch a messenger walk inside. “Here we go,” Lisa said, deftly changing the subject. “This nice man is bringing us new business, I can feel it. Or maybe he has an envelope filled with cash.”

“Are you Jane Singleton?” the messenger asked.

Lisa pointed to Jane. “That’s her.”

“I’m supposed to deliver this to you personally and then make sure you read it.”

Jane took the envelope, noting the stamp on the front. “Personal and Confidential,” she read.

“Who’s it from?”

“There’s no return address.” She tore into the envelope and pulled out a photocopy of a handwritten document. As she began to read, she slowly recognized the handwriting. And when her gaze dropped to the bottom of the page and found her own signature, Jane gasped. “Oh, my God.”

“What is it?”

Jane handed Lisa the contract and read the cover letter. “In the matter of the contract between William A. McCaffrey and Jane Singleton, we must discuss the satisfaction of terms as soon as possible. I’ve scheduled a meeting at my office for tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Sincerely, William McCaffrey, Attorney at Law.”

“We’re doing Will McCaffrey’s garden? Gee, Jane, I’m impressed. You managed to pitch him a project while avoiding him at the same time?”

“Read the contract. This doesn’t have anything to do with a garden. This is about…marriage.”

Lisa’s eyes went wide. “Marriage? Like in ‘husband and wife, till death do us part’?” She quickly scanned the contract, then glanced up at Jane, a stunned expression on her face.

“It was a joke,” Jane said. “He was depressed and I was…vulnerable and he suggested if neither of us was married by the time he was thirty, then we’d…oh, God. I’d forgotten all about this. How could I forget about this?”

“Do you have any return message?” the messenger asked impatiently.

“No,” Jane said, forgetting he was still standing there. “Wait, yes.” She stepped up to the young man and poked a finger into his chest. “You can tell Will McCaffrey that he has a lot of nerve digging up this silly contract. I’m not going to marry him. I’m not going to date him.” She gave the guy another poke. “And you can tell him if he thinks I’m still the same love-starved, weak-willed, stupid little girl who kissed him that—” Jane bit her bottom lip. “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.”

The messenger nodded, then hurried out of the office, clearly unnerved by her outburst.

“When did you kiss Will McCaffrey?”

“Valentine’s Day, February 14, 1998. Six years ago. He was drunk. And I was completely out of my mind.” She grabbed the contract from Lisa. “This can’t be legal. Look at it. It’s handwritten. And this doesn’t even look like my signature.”

“Is that your signature?” Lisa asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I think it might be legal.”

Jane felt a warm flush creep up her cheeks and her stomach churned with nerves. “I guess I’m going to have to get a lawyer.”

“Either that or marry Will McCaffrey,” Lisa chirped.

JANE SMOOTHED HER HANDS over the front of her skirt, working out a wrinkle that had developed on the ride downtown. She’d spent most of the morning trying to decide what to wear to her meeting with Will. She’d begun with the sexy choices, anxious to prove that she wasn’t the same clumsy girl that he’d once known, that she’d grown into a confident, attractive woman who didn’t need a contract to find a husband.

But she’d discarded those outfits for more conservative choices, a tailored blazer and pants with a silk blouse and elegant jewelry, something to counter his power suit. But that choice hid every trace of femininity, so she traded the pants for a pencil-slim skirt and heels, a wardrobe choice that she rarely employed.

After dressing, she’d fussed with her hair, trying to train the waves into something more subdued. She’d finally given up on the tousled curls and carefully brushed on mascara and lipstick before heading out the door.

Will’s office was located in one of the numerous office towers that dominated downtown Chicago. She’d parked in a nearby ramp and walked the block to the building, taking a few moments to rest in the lobby and compose herself.

This was all too strange, she mused. He couldn’t really expect her to marry him, could he? This was the twenty-first century and America! Women couldn’t be forced into marriage, contract or not. Still, Jane couldn’t help but think that marriage to Will McCaffrey could solve a few of her pressing problems—like where she was going to live after she gave up her apartment or how she was going to save enough money to get her business back on stable ground.

“I don’t love him,” she murmured to herself, letting the words repeat silently in her brain like a mantra. A real marriage, a marriage meant to last, required a level of emotion that Will McCaffrey wasn’t capable of returning.

Jane smoothed her skirt again, then started toward the elevator. “Just remain calm and everything will be just fine.” After all, she didn’t know his motivations in sending her the contract. Maybe this was just his way of convincing her to accept a date.

“That’s it,” she said, the notion taking hold. Will McCaffrey was a handsome, sexy guy, the kind of guy any woman would want to marry. He’d never be forced to rely on an old contract to get a wife. He could walk down Michigan Avenue with a cardboard sign and come up with ten or fifteen candidates within a single city block. So why was he so determined to go out with her?

The elevator opened on a wide hallway. Directly in front of her, glass doors marked the entrance to the offices of McCaffrey Commercial Properties. A pretty receptionist waited behind a circular desk and smiled as Jane walked through the doors. “Good afternoon,” she said. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Will McCaffrey,” Jane said.

“You must be Miss Singleton.” She stepped around the desk. “Mr. McCaffrey asked that I show you to his office. He’s in a meeting right now, but he should be through momentarily. Is there anything I can get for you?”

Jane was tempted to ask for a blindfold so she wouldn’t have to stare at Will’s handsome face, or maybe earplugs so she wouldn’t have to listen to his tantalizing voice. Or maybe a bottle of Valium to calm her nerves and quell her racing heart. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

The receptionist led her down a long hall and opened a door at the end of it. “I’ll let Mr. McCaffrey know you’re here.”

“Thanks,” Jane said.

After the receptionist walked out, Jane wandered around Will’s office, too nervous to sit. His law school diploma was displayed prominently behind his desk and the credenza held a variety of photos, most of them featuring either exotic locales or a golden retriever. What she didn’t find was a photo of a wife, or even a girlfriend. Jane ignored the tiny thrill of satisfaction that raced through her. Whether he was involved in a relationship or completely single shouldn’t make a difference. She picked up a photo of the dog and stared at it.

“His name is Thurgood.”

Jane spun around to find Will standing in the doorway, his shoulder braced against the doorjamb. Her heart stopped for a long moment and she had to gulp down a breath to get it started again. “He’s…cute,” she murmured.

“He’s a big mooch and he sheds all over everything. But I love him. What about you? Do you have any pets?”

Jane shifted uneasily, her feet starting to hurt from the high heels she wore. She wasn’t sure what to say. Were they going to waste time with chitchat, or was he planning to explain himself? Will’s gaze fixed on her face as he waited for her answer.

With a silent curse, Jane fumbled through her purse and pulled out the copy of the contract. She unfolded it and held it out to him. “You sent this to me.”

“Yes, I did,” Will said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Why?”

“I thought I made that clear in the letter,” he replied.

“You can’t be serious.” Jane glanced down at contract. “This was just a whim fueled by a fair bit of champagne and whiskey.” He’d been drunk and feeling sorry for himself and she’d been caught up in a fantasy that the subject of her silly crush might actually show up in six years, contract in hand.

And now he had. She looked up to see Will sweep a bouquet of roses out from behind his back. “These are for you,” he said, grinning, the dimple appearing on his cheek. “English roses. Your favorite, right?”

A shiver skittered down her spine and her indignation wavered. All he’d ever had to do was smile at her and she’d agree to anything from doing his laundry to typing his term papers to helping him pick out gifts for the endless string of girls in his life. Will had always been too charming for his own good—and hers.

But he’d always been a man so completely unattainable that he’d taken on mythic proportions in her mind—the classic profile, a body chiseled by the gods, hands so strong yet sensitive they promised to drive her wild—Jane groaned inwardly. Just a few minutes in his presence and her fantasies were back full force. “It’s going to take a lot more than roses and this ridiculous contract to make me marry you.”

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

She risked another look at him. Features that had once been almost boyish had taken on a harder edge. He seemed powerful, determined. If he was really bent on marriage, then she was hip-deep in trouble—both legal and emotional. Because when Will McCaffrey wanted something, he usually found a way to get it. She cursed silently at her racing pulse and the flush that warmed her cheeks. “Le-let’s suppose for a moment this contract is legal, which I don’t think it is. You were drunk and I was…under the influence…” She drew a shaky breath. “Why would you want to marry me anyway? We haven’t talked since that day you graduated from law school.”

He slowly crossed the room and stood in front of her. The scent of the roses made her head swim and she held her breath, wondering just how much closer he would come, praying he wouldn’t touch her.

There had been a time when she’d remembered every single time he’d grabbed her hand or brushed his shoulder against hers. She’d carried around a catalog of such events in her head for years and had taken pains to forget them all. Will McCaffrey was no longer the subject of a silly crush or her rampant fantasies. He was a flesh and blood man, a man who still had the capacity to trample her heart and shred her soul.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you.”

“That doesn’t count,” Jane said. In truth, she’d thought about him hundreds, maybe even thousands of times—not in the past six years but just in the past week since she’d seen him on the street. Her attention flitted from his startling blue eyes ringed with thick dark lashes to the tiny dimple in his left cheek, once so familiar. There was still so much of the college boy left in him even though the neatly groomed hair and finely pressed suit made him the picture of respectability.

“Come on, Janie. We were friends once, why can’t we be again? We were good together.”

“Did you suffer a head injury recently?” she demanded. “Have you spent time in a psychiatric hospital? Or are you just seriously delusional? We were never together. You were together with half the girls on campus, but never with me.”

“You’re the only girl—I mean, woman—that I’ve ever had a friendship with. And I’m beginning to realize how rare that really is.”

He reached out and smoothed his palm along the length of her arm. She’d watched him charm so many women, studied his techniques and imagined herself on the receiving end of his attentions. Well, she wasn’t going to fall for his tricks! “Let’s just be honest here.”

“Great,” Will said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s just lay it all out on the table. I’m all for honesty.”

“For some reason, you suddenly feel the need to marry me. Maybe you’re in the midst of some early midlife crisis. Or maybe you’ve run through all the single women in the Chicago metro area. Or maybe all your buddies have settled down and you don’t have anyone to party with. But rather than dating a woman and going the traditional route, you dug up this contract and wrote me a letter. I suppose you thought I’d jump at the offer. After all, a girl like me would be a fool to turn down an offer of marriage from a guy like you.”

He opened his mouth to speak, a frown of confusion furrowing his brow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not going to marry you! We don’t even know each other.” She paused. “Anymore. And I don’t remember signing this contract.” She crumpled it up and shoved it at his chest.

It was a lie. She remembered every moment of that night. She’d been the one to insist they have a witness sign, as well, she’d been the one who’d actually wanted the document to be legal, dreamed that someday he might come back and try to enforce it.

Will drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve changed, Janie. You used to be so…”

“Weak, pathetic, spineless? I’m not that same silly girl who used to hang on your every word, who used to bake you cookies and mend your shirts.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” He reached out and hesitantly touched her cheek, drawing his thumb over her lower lip. “You’re not a girl at all, Janie. You’re a woman. A very beautiful, passionate, stubborn woman.”

Jane closed her eyes, losing herself for a moment in the warmth of his hand. Oh, God. This was it. This was the start to one of her top five fantasies! In a few moments, he’d sweep her into his arms and kiss her, ravaging her mouth with his lips. And if by some bizarre shift in the cosmos, her fantasy became reality, then she might as well start shopping for a white dress and a bridal bouquet and those little candy-coated almonds tied up in tulle that always sat on the dinner tables at weddings.

There was no way she was going to avoid falling in love with Will McCaffrey all over again…and right now, with her heart slamming in her chest and her pulse racing, she wasn’t even sure she’d ever fallen out of love with him in the first place.

She swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“I just want you to forget the past. I 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 ground her teeth. Why was he so determined to pull her in again? Couldn’t he sense what this would cost her? She shook her head. “No. I’m not going to date you and I’m not going to marry you!”

“Why not?” he demanded, frustration coloring his tone. “What’s wrong with me? I’m a decent guy. The way you’re acting you’d think I was some psychotic ax murderer with a hump on his back and halitosis.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. We’re just not…suited.”

Will chuckled softly, shaking his head. “How can you possibly know that?”

“I just do,” Jane replied.

Will shrugged and stepped away from her, the warmth of his touch suddenly going cold. “Then I guess I’ll see you in court.”

Jane closed her eyes and tried to school her temper. “We have to be able to reach some sort of compromise. If you hadn’t run into me on the street the other day, you never would have remembered the contract. And we both would have gone on with our lives.”

“Maybe so,” he said. “But we did meet again and whether that was destiny or providence, I don’t care. It made me realize how much I missed you. And how much I want you in my life again.”

Jane forced herself not to dwell on his words. They were all part of his plan to charm her, to suck all the common sense out of her brain so he could have his way with her. “And marriage is the answer? What if I agree to a date? Doesn’t that seem a more logical first step?”

“I asked and you said no. Besides, now that I think about it, I’m sick and tired of dating. I’m ready to move on with my life,” Will said. He sat down at his desk and leaned back in his chair, linking his fingers behind his head and watching her with a bland smile.

If he wanted a fight, then she was fully prepared to give him one! Jane braced her hands on his desk and leaned over it, meeting his gaze with a glare of her own. “I’m not going to marry you. I’m not going to date you. In fact, I never want to see you again. If you think you can enforce your silly contract, then try it. I dare you.”

Her heart pounding, Jane strode to the door and yanked it open. She briefly considered turning around and throwing a few more threats his way, but in the end, she made a quick escape. One more look at Will McCaffrey might be just what it took to push her over the edge, into a strange fantasy world where she really could marry him and live happily-ever-after.

When she reached the elevator, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Images of Will swam in her head and Jane groaned softly. Fighting him seemed to be the only option. Or was it?

“I just need time,” she murmured, her desperation thick in her voice. Time to sort out her financial problems without the threat of an expensive court case hanging over her head. Time to come to grips with her attraction to a man she couldn’t possibly love. And time to convince herself that Will McCaffrey wasn’t the man of her dreams.

Yet, in a secret corner of her heart, she wondered what might happen if she agreed to marry him. Would he get scared and back down, deftly avoiding commitment as he had in the past? Or would he actually fulfill the terms of their contract and walk down the aisle with her?

Jane groaned softly, her mind spinning with the possibilities. What if she never found out for sure and lived to regret it? The choices she made today might seem like her only option. But how would they look in ten or fifteen years?

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