Legally Mine

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 CEO material.

Just the thought of marriage made him nervous. He understood the concept and its allure, and he even believed in happily-ever-afters. He’d seen his parents’ marriage and knew it was possible. But he also knew that happiness could be snatched away in just a blink of an eye.

“Ronald is not prepared to run this company,” Will said in an even tone, picking up an old copy of Business Week and flipping through it casually. “He’s too conservative, he has to triple-think every decision and then half the time he makes the wrong choice. Have you ever watched him order lunch? ‘I’ll have the salmon—no wait, how is the strip steak? Well, maybe I should have a salad. Has anyone tried the veal chop?’ It’s a wonder the guy hasn’t starved by now.”

“No wonder at all,” his father countered. “He has a wife at home who makes him dinner every night.”

“Why does a wife, three children and a house in the suburbs qualify him to run this company?”

“He’s settled. He’s made choices in his life and he has responsibilities to look out for, namely your sister and my grandchildren. I don’t have to worry that he’ll run off to Fiji with the next stewardess he meets.”

“They’re called flight attendants. And who says I can’t take a vacation every now and then?”

His father scowled. “You called on Tuesday afternoon to say you wouldn’t be in to work on Monday morning.”

“I got confused with time change. That whole thing with the International Date Line is very complicated.”

His father sighed. “I know you have your wild oats to sow, Will. But life comes down to choices. You can’t stay a bachelor the rest of your life.”

Will felt his frustration grow. Why did it always have to come down to this same old argument? It wasn’t as if he was avoiding marriage, he just hadn’t found the right woman—the perfect woman. Hell, he’d never driven the same car for more than a year. How was he supposed to choose a mate for the next fifty years? “Not everyone is going to have what you and Mom had,” he muttered.

Just the thought of his mother brought a twinge of grief, even after all these years. Laura Sellars McCaffrey had died when Will was just twelve and his sister ten, and since then it had been just the three of them. After her death, Jim McCaffrey had thrown himself into work, turning his small real-estate brokerage into one of Chicago’s most successful commercial developers. In the process, he’d left his two children to grieve on their own, and to raise themselves.

Melanie had retreated behind the responsibilities of running the household, learning to be the perfect substitute for her mother. When she was barely twenty, she’d married her high-school sweetheart, Ronald Williams. He’d come to work for the family business, she’d joined the garden club and, together, they’d produced three perfect children.

Will had had the opposite reaction to his mother’s death. He could barely stand to stay in the house, memories of her infused every room. He’d found comfort in friends, first his buddies from school and then, as he’d grown older, pretty girls. Somewhere along the line, the girls had become women, always bright and very beautiful. And though he’d always assumed he’d find a wife someday, the women he dated always seemed to fall short.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Marry someone I don’t love just so I can say I’m married?”

“You’ve introduced me to six or seven of your girlfriends, any one of whom would have made you a decent wife. You need to grow up and decide what’s important to you—your future or the next beautiful woman to cross your path.” Jim McCaffrey crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m going to retire in April. Either you get your personal life in order or you’ll be taking orders from Ronald.”

Will’s jaw clenched and he decided to make his escape while he could, before his father brought up more reasons why Will would never occupy the corner office and he was goaded into a knock-down-drag-out fight. Maybe he ought to just forget about a future with the family business. He was a good lawyer. Hell, he’d even taught a few seminars at his alma mater. And he couldn’t count the number of law school buddies who called each week asking his opinion on some matter of real-estate law. He’d had job offers from most of the major firms in the city over the past few years, why not just start fresh?

He retreated to his office, closing the door behind him. When he’d settled into his well-worn chair, Will groaned softly. How could he consider leaving? This business was in his blood—the excitement of putting a deal together, of anticipating the problems and smoothing them over, of watching an empty piece of land become a vital part of the city. He’d helped build the business. By rights, it should be his someday.

Will snatched up the messages his secretary had placed on his desk, but his mind was still occupied with his father’s demands. Love and marriage had been so easy for his sister. She’d known exactly who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with by the time she was twenty. He was thirty years old and he wasn’t any closer to finding Miss Right.

The way his father talked, it all sounded so simple. Find a woman, fall in love, get married and live happily-ever-after. But love had never come easily to Will. Even after all these years, he could still remember the way his mother had looked at his father, as if he could do no wrong. The gentle teasing way his father had made his mother laugh. The secret whispers and stolen kisses when they’d both thought the children weren’t looking. That was love—and Will had never once experienced even a small measure of that kind of devotion.

A knock sounded on the office door and Will glanced up to see his secretary, Mrs. Arnstein, walk inside. After he had dated and broken up with three separate secretaries, his father had decided to choose a secretary for him, a woman who would defy temptation. And Mrs. Arnstein was just that. A former Army drill sergeant, the woman was coldly efficient and painstakingly proper. She also outweighed Will by a good twenty or thirty pounds.

“I have your mail,” she said. “The contracts came for the Bucktown condo project. And the estimates came in for the DePaul renovation.” She held up a glossy magazine. “And your Northwestern alumni magazine came. You’re listed in the class notes this month.”

Will took the offered magazine. “How did they find out about me?”

“They sent a questionnaire a few months ago. You told me to fill it out for you. You didn’t have time.”

The alumni notes took up the last six or seven pages of the magazine. Will scanned the columns for his name, then realized they were listed by year of graduation. But as he flipped back to the previous page, a familiar name caught his eye.

“Did you find it?” Mrs. Arnstein asked.

“No.” He quickly closed the magazine. “I’ll look for it later. I have work to do.”

The moment his secretary closed the door behind her, he snatched the magazine up and returned to the page. “Jane Singleton, B.S. Botany, 2000,” he read out loud. “Jane runs her own landscape business, Windy City Gardens, and has designed and installed a wide variety of residential and commercial gardens in the Chicago area.”

He hadn’t thought about Janie Singleton for—God, how long had it been? Five, maybe six years? “Now she would have made a perfect wife,” he murmured. “She was sweet and attentive and—” He paused, memories flooding his brain. Will slowly pushed out of his chair and crossed his office to the bookshelves that lined one wall, scanning the volumes until his found his contracts text from law school. Holding his breath, he opened the front cover.

It was right where he’d put it years ago. He’d come across it when he’d unpacked his books after law school and had almost tossed it out. But then he’d tucked it inside the cover where it had stayed until this moment, just a silly memory of a night long ago.

Will unfolded the paper and slowly read it, surprised that he’d managed to write a pretty decent contract with such limited practical experience. The terms were clear and he’d covered all contingencies. Hell, if the contract was challenged in court, it might just hold up. An idea flashed in his brain and he pushed it aside. “No, I can’t.”

He dropped the contract onto his desk and turned to his computer to get back to work. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he might have an easy solution to all his problems. Janie Singleton. She was exactly the kind of woman his father would love. And if his father saw that Will was dating an “appropriate” woman, then perhaps he’d soften his stance, maybe delay his decision until Will did find a wife.

He picked up the phone and dialed his secretary’s extension. “Mrs. Arnstein, I need a phone number and address for Windy City Gardens. It’s a landscape contractor here in Chicago. And could you see if you can find a home phone number for a Jane Singleton? She probably lives in the city.”

He sat on the edge of his desk, rereading the blurb in the magazine. A landscape contractor, that’s what she’d become. She’d always loved plants, so it seemed like a natural fit. And knowing her drive and determination, no doubt the business was a success.

He could only speculate on her personal life. The newsletter listed her maiden name, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t stumbled across the man of her dreams in the past six years. After all, Jane was smart and pretty and she’d make any man a great wife.

He picked up the paper and let his gaze skim over the words of the contract. Though it was written well, any judge with half a brain would toss it out in court. Still, it was a place to start, an excuse to call Jane and catch up on old times. If he was lucky, he could rekindle his relationship with her and just see where it went.

The soft ring of his phone interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. McCaffrey, I have an address for Windy City Gardens. It’s 1489 North Damen in Wicker Park.” Will scribbled down the address and the phone number as his secretary read them. “I couldn’t find a home phone. There were seven J. Singletons but no Janes.”

“Fine.”

Will ripped the address from the legal pad, stuffed it into his pocket and grabbed his keys. As he walked out, he stopped at Mrs. Arnstein’s desk. “Cancel my appointments for this afternoon.”

“You’re not going to Fiji again, are you?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

He smirked. “No. Just over to Wicker Park. If there’s an emergency, you can get me on my cell phone.”

The midday traffic was light on the drive to the Wicker Park neighborhood, and fifteen minutes later, Will pulled up across the street from a small office building. A sign in a street-level window indicated he was at the right place. Even so, he couldn’t seem to get out of the car.

“This is crazy,” he murmured. “She could be married or involved. I can’t just show up and expect her to be thrilled to see me.” He reached down to put the car into gear, then froze as he saw a figure step out the front door of the building. Will recognized her immediately, her dark hair and delicate frame, the profile that defined the word “cute.” She stood on the sidewalk and talked with a slender blonde who seemed vaguely familiar. A few moments later, they walked in different directions, Jane crossing the street and heading toward his car.

Without thinking, he pushed the door open and stepped out. “Jane?” She stopped and glanced around, her gaze finally coming to rest on him. Will leaned over the top of the car door. “Jane Singleton?”

“Will?” A smile broke across her face and he felt his heart warm. She was happy to see him. “My gosh, Will McCaffrey, you’re the last person I expected to run into today.”

“I thought it was you,” he said, trying to feign total surprise. Will stared at her. It was the same Jane, but she was different. Features that had once been a bit plain had changed into something quite striking, not cute at all, but beautiful. She’d been a nineteen-year-old girl when he’d last seen her. Now, she was definitely a woman.

“What are you doing here?” Jane asked.

He slammed the car door and circled the hood to stand in front of her. “I…I was just heading…up the street, to a restaurant.” Will reached out and before he realized what he was doing, he’d grabbed her hand. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but now that he had, he realized how much he’d missed her.

For two years, Janie had been a constant in his life, a friend who’d been there whenever he’d needed her. A sliver of guilt shot through him. And he’d never taken the time to thank her, or even to return the favors she’d so eagerly done for him. He stared down at her hand and slowly rubbed his thumb along her wrist. “It’s really good to see you, Janie.”

She shifted nervously and tugged her hand away. “What restaurant?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know the name,” he said. “I just know it’s on this block.” He smiled. “You look great. It’s been a long time. What have you been up to?”

“A long time,” she repeated. “Yes, it has. Six years almost. I think the last time I saw you was the day you graduated from law school. We were going to keep in touch but then…well, you know how it goes. I got so busy and…”

“I’m sorry we didn’t,” Will said, the sentiment sincere.

“Me, too.”

As he stood in front of her, he fought the urge to touch her again, to drag her into his arms and reassure himself that it was really Jane. Memories of her flooded his mind, memories that he hadn’t even recalled storing away. The long, thick lashes that ringed her dark eyes. The perfect shape of her mouth, like a tiny Cupid’s bow. And the scent of her, like fresh air and spring flowers. “You know, I don’t have to be at the restaurant for a half hour. Maybe you and I could have a cup of coffee?”

She stepped back, as if the invitation caught her by surprise. “I—I can’t,” Jane said. “I—I’m late for an appointment. But it was really nice seeing you, Will.”

“Well, then dinner,” Will insisted. “Whenever you like. How about this weekend? There’s this terrific new Asian restaurant downtown. You like Asian food, don’t you?”

“This weekend won’t work,” Jane said. “Listen, it was great seeing you again.”

“Lunch?” Will asked. “You must eat lunch.”

“I never have time.” She gave him a little wave and rushed off down the sidewalk, looking back just once.

Will stood at the car, stunned at how quickly it was over. He watched until she turned a corner. “Well, that was just great,” he muttered. “If I can’t talk her into a cup of coffee, how am I going to convince her to date me?” A soft curse slipped from his lips, but then he remembered the contract. He’d just try again—and again, if he had to. And if Jane Singleton continued to resist his charms and refuse his invitations, he’d just have to use the only weapon he had—the law.

“MAYBE WE COULD ASK FOR an extension on the rent.”

Jane Singleton pressed her fingers to her temples and stared at the spreadsheet program on her computer, knowing that the suggestion wouldn’t make any difference. The columns of numbers blurred in front of her eyes and she caught herself daydreaming again, her mind wandering back to her encounter with Will McCaffrey last week.

He’d looked so good, the same, but different, more polished and sophisticated. When she’d first seen him standing next to his car, Jane had been certain he was a figment of her imagination. But he had been real, and after all these years, he still had the capacity to send her pulse into overdrive and turn her brain into mush.

Overwhelmed and exasperated by her reaction, she’d made a quick escape. Though she’d once harbored a secret crush on Will McCaffrey, she’d finally managed to put her fantasies aside. She was a grown woman now, not some silly schoolgirl.

Still, Will wasn’t making it easy. He’d called three times since their chance meeting to ask her out and over and over again, she’d come up with a litany of feeble excuses. She’d been tempted, but Jane knew she could never trust herself around him—he could make her fall in love all over again with just a simple smile.

“Jane!”

She jerked up and placed her palms on her desk. “What? I was listening. The numbers just don’t add up. Right. I can see that. We’re not going to have enough to keep the office.”

Lisa Harper shook her head. “All right. What’s wrong? You’ve been distracted all morning. I know we’re under a lot of pressure here, but you’re always so focused at times like these. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Lisa had been her friend since freshman year in college and her business partner since they’d founded Windy City Gardens after they’d graduated. But Lisa had spent too many evenings listening to Jane babble about Will McCaffrey to have him reappear in their conversations again. “It’s nothing,” Jane murmured.

“Tell me.”

“You won’t like it,” Jane warned her.

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to tell me every little detail about your life. It’s part of the deal. We talk about highly personal matters, you insist that I look skinny in everything I wear, you encourage me to eat more chocolate because it’s good for my skin, and you—”

“If I tell you, you have to promise this isn’t going to become a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. Whenever we discuss my personal life and you have an opinion, you want to talk about it over and over and analyze it. And then, once you’ve decided what I should do, you won’t let up until I do it. If I tell you this, you have to promise to just drop it, all right?”

“Promise,” Lisa said, drawing a cross over her heart.

“I saw Will McCaffrey last week.”

Lisa’s expression turned from genuine interest to outright disbelief. “Oh, no. Not again. You haven’t mentioned his name for nearly two years. We are not bringing him back into conversation. The man has ruined you for all men.”

“How is that?”

“Because you haven’t met one man in the past six years that you haven’t compared to Will McCaffrey. You’d think the guy was some kind of god. He’s just a jerk who never appreciated you while he was around.”

“He was right across the street. He was getting out of his car and I was on my way to the Armstrong appointment and there he was, just standing there.”

Lisa covered her ears. “La, la, la, la, la. I’m not listening. I can’t hear you.”