Marry Me, Kate

“Well, maybe I’ll hang a copy of our agreement over my bed so I can’t forget.” Or a picture of his mother. Either one would be a reminder that women are out for what they can get...and nothing more.

“Man, you are crazy,” Charles returned. “Don’t you want to take some time to think about this—this contract?”

“Nope. She might change her mind.” Will was afraid Kate might decide he wasn’t offering enough and up her demands. “Can you have the contract ready by four this afternoon?”

“Four?” Charles exploded. “You’ve got to be kidding! This kind of contract is new to me. I’ve got to check out precedents, confirm legal opinions, word it exactly so as not to—”

“Just write it in plain English, Charles. Not that gobbledygook you lawyers use.”

“That gobbledygook, as you call it, is what protects you from lawsuits. We won that suit filed by the last small businessman you sponsored because of it.”

“This contract is personal. And I’m going to abide by my part of it, so we don’t have to worry about that clause coming into play.”

“You’ve taken up monkdom? Become a eunuch?”

“No, but I’m not an animal. If I have an itch, I’ll find another way to scratch it, okay? She’s not the only beautiful woman in the world.”

“So you want me to make it clear that fidelity is not a requirement?”

“Man, does that sound crass or what? Surely we don’t have to spell that kind of thing out?”

“The more we spell out, the less likely you’ll find yourself in court trying to hang on to your company. And be sure she has legal representation present. We don’t want her claiming we misled her.”

Charles’s stern look didn’t impress Will all that much, but the thought of losing the company he’d inherited from his father and nourished and pushed into a large corporation did.

“Okay, put in whatever you have to. Then meet me at The Lucky Charm Diner on Wornall Avenue at four o’clock, multiple copies in hand.”

Without protesting again, Charles strode from the office, muttering under his breath. Will figured he was already writing his opening paragraph of the agreement in his mind. Charles was nothing if not efficient.

Only occasionally did the hard, cold reality of all the aspects of her agreement impose on Kate’s active brain that day. She let her spirits soar as she thought about the new decor of the diner, the new equipment, the opportunity to expand her culinary repertoire beyond chili, bacon and eggs, and hamburgers.

And maybe the opportunity to provide for her family, as Pop would have done.

She was so lost in her dreams, it was a shock to answer the phone and hear William Hardison’s voice on the line.

“My lawyer is going to meet me at the diner at four o’clock with the agreement ready for signing.”

She checked her watch. “But it’s three o’clock now.”

“Yes, and you’ll need a lawyer present.”

Nothing else. No apology for the short notice, no offer to meet at another time. The man was a definite autocrat.

“Okay.” She could be as terse as he.

“I’ll see you then.”

He left no time for her response. As she opened her mouth, the dial tone sounded in her ear. She slammed the receiver down in irritation. If he thought he was going to steamroll her, he had another think coming. She...and her lawyer...would read every word, study every comma, before she signed any legal document.

Since she’d already talked to Tori, she only had to let her know the time of the meeting, and listen to her complaints about short notice. But she knew Tori would be there.

Forty-five minutes later, her friend rushed through the door of the diner. “I’m here, but I left a disaster at the office. This had better be a good deal for you.”

Kate hugged her friend. “Thanks. You know it is. I’m going to achieve my dream.”