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
