The Keepers: Christmas in Salem. Heather Graham
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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