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
