The Keepers: Christmas in Salem. Heather Graham
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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,