The Keepers: Christmas in Salem. Heather Graham
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