The Perfect Deal Read online

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.” She settled back against the couch, smiled up at him. “So, are you in?”

  She spoke as though they were playing a hand of poker. Rhyder lifted the business card, tore it in half, and tossed it on the coffee table. “No, I’ll pass.”

  Her chin shot up, her eyes sparked. “Fine, tell me how you really feel about it because that childish maneuver wasn’t enough for me to figure it out.” She removed several business cards from her back pocket, waved them at him. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.” Her voice dipped, spilled emotion. “All I need is a baby and I’m going to get one—with or without you.”

  Chapter 3

  “Please tell me you did not actually ask Rhyder to father your baby.”

  Roxie cooed and smiled at the infant in her arms. Was there ever anything as peaceful as a sleeping baby? Sophia had C.C.’s complexion and her father’s dark hair. So beautiful...so lucky...

  “Roxie? No sidestepping.” Big sigh, followed by a quiet, “Did you, or didn’t you?”

  Roxie glanced at her friend, caught her staring. She shrugged, bit her bottom lip. “I might have.” No sense repeating what might be labeled a disastrous error in judgment. When the cold stare continued, Roxie caved just a bit. “Say I did, what’s the big deal? There are a lot of single parents out there.” She cradled Sophia’s head, stroked her velvety cheek.

  “True but they don’t solicit men they can barely tolerate.”

  “A minor detail.” She scrunched her nose. “Besides, who says I can’t tolerate him? He’s fine in small doses.” Roxie smiled and whispered, “And it’s the small dose that I’m interested in.”

  “I can’t believe you’re even saying that. This is not a joke, and it’s certainly not a game.” C.C. placed a pink onesie she’d just folded in the laundry basket on top of the others.

  “I know that.” Did everyone think her incapable of understanding the obligation of having a child? Did they never once stop to consider she wanted that obligation? Longed for it as a way to embrace life?

  No, of course not, because they thought she was as dependable as a fruit fly. Well, she wasn’t. Roxie knew a baby would change her life forever, and while she didn’t know how every aspect would change—but then no prospective parent did—she was ready. More than ready. Heck yeah! She touched the baby’s tiny hand, stroked her fingers. “I’m reaching advanced maternal age and my eggs are getting older by the month. If I don’t do something soon, they’ll shrivel up and my chances will be gone.”

  “Being a parent is hard and it’s for the rest of your life.” C.C.’s voice shifted, filled with emotion. “I’ve never heard you mention anything about wanting to be a mother until Sophia was born.”

  “Because I’d never witnessed the joy of parenting before or the unconditional love. I hardly remember that kind of devotion; my mother died and my father only loved my accomplishments. But when you and Ian are with Sophia, no matter if you’re holding her or changing her diaper, I see joy, I see pure love. Sacred love. There’s nothing like it, and I want a chance to give that kind of love.”

  Roxie Revito had spent the first part of her life trying to earn her father’s approval and find a way to belong. For a young girl with a genius IQ and a brain that would not stop analyzing, processing, or collating, she graduated from high school and college early, became an astrophysicist, and wrote a book that was devoured by her colleagues. Everyone loved Roxie whose real name was Roberta… The only problem was she didn’t love herself. Heck, she didn’t even like herself, and no matter what accomplishment she handed her father, it was never quite good enough. Almost, but never quite...

  In the tiny moments where she let her true individuality sneak out—the plaid tights, the oversized hoop earrings, the rows of bangles on her arms, and the highlights in her dark hair, she was met with comments and recrimination. Every attempt to show a bit of her true self became a target with disapproval from her father. Roberta, that outfit and those earrings are not becoming or an astrophysicist would not streak her hair with orange. You should know that. How could you not know that? You should be working on another book. Have you selected another topic? At the very least you should be... On and on the criticisms and critiques went, one challenge stacked on top of the other until she blew apart in a shimmering burst of anger and frustration.

  It happened on New Year’s Eve. She sat sipping champagne with her father in a glitzy restaurant, surrounded by his peers and his associates. Roxie had no friends, no boyfriend, no one to talk to or share the desperation and loneliness of being a prodigy. The men were fascinated with her intellectual abilities and tossed questions at her as though she were a contestant on a game show. No one really saw her, not even her father. They only saw what she could do, not who she was.

  On that day as the new year chimed in, Roxie stood and poured a bottle of Dom Perignon on herself: head, shoulders, bust, arms, belly, legs, feet. She still tasted the fizz of all those years ago when Roberta Revito imploded and Roxie emerged from the bubbles. The table of men stared at her. Stop it, Roberta, her father said, his voice cold, his expression disapproving. No one is interested in these childish antics. You’re embarrassing yourself. She’d grabbed another bottle of champagne, lifted it to her lips and took several healthy swallows before she dumped it on her head, slammed the bottle on the table, and let out a laugh that shifted to tears that wouldn’t stop.

  Maybe it was the tears or dumping the second bottle of champagne on herself that told her father that his daughter’s behavior was about more than antics or attempts to get noticed. Or maybe it was after she crawled under the table, still crying, and refused to leave until the police showed up and escorted her out with kind words and sympathetic looks. Something in their eyes told her they’d seen this before, knew it for what it was, even if her father didn’t. Vincent Revito refused to accept the term nervous breakdown and insisted that his daughter simply needed to reformulate her thought patterns and all would be well.

  Except all would never be well again, not for Roberta, who disappeared that night forever.

  Weeks slid by with not one visit from her father, a painful sign he didn’t care about his daughter the person. No, he only cared about his daughter the prodigy. Had her mother lived long enough to witness the destruction her overzealous husband had caused, she might have been able to stop the disaster that became their child’s life. But probably not. Nobody derailed the man once he declared a mission, and elevating Roberta Revito in the eyes of the world had been his mission.

  It would take years of therapy, a period of medications, behavior modification, plus yoga and daily affirmations for Roxie to learn the hardest lesson of all: she was a work in progress just like everyone else. She would make mistakes because she could not be perfect and should not hope to be so. When she was released from the psychiatric facility, she stayed with her Aunt Cecilia in a rented condo, refusing the minimal attempts her father made to contact her and revive Roberta, his astrophysicist daughter. It was Aunt Cecilia who stood beside her, offered her a home in Chicago, far from California and the reminders of her former existence. Roxie latched onto the chance, determined to listen to her aunt’s mantra that she live her life, not her father’s.

  Most days, Roxie found joy and even moments of bliss cutting hair, practicing yoga and meditation, devouring ice cream and junk food, and hanging out with C.C., her one true friend. Roxie had never had a best friend; heck, she’d never had a friend except for the ones she met at summer space camps, but they never lasted once her father found out. He considered attachments like those distracting and had once told her they’re your competition and a person never makes friends with the competition.

  What a bunch of bullcrap.

  C.C. was her best friend, not a distraction or the competition. Being around her made Roxie feel almost normal...like she belonged. And her husband wasn’t half bad either. Watching those two together, the looks that said I love you, the comments fill
ed with laughter, respect, and buckets of admiration, and the dang kindness in every action almost made Roxie reconsider her stance on the values of a man.

  Almost.

  Not quite.

  Ian was perfect for her best friend, but C.C. had to do a lot of soul baring and dumping a lot of baggage to get to that point. Umm...that was a little too exposed because apparently a person was supposed to share the baggage before dumping it. So, no thank you.

  However, there was another way to find love, fulfillment, and true joy, but it would take several more months for Roxie to discover it. Enter, the birth of C.C. and Ian’s baby, Sophia Elaine. From the very instant she held the baby five months ago, something changed inside of her. Love swirled deep in her soul, spread to her heart, and every time she held little Sophia, her heart opened more. This baby brought her a peace and contentment she hadn’t known since she was a small child.

  Visions of babies sprouted in her brain, grew in the deep corners of her heart as her subconscious processed and analyzed what was happening and why. The big question that soon devoured her was, Could she have a baby of her own? Once she realized there could be deep and lasting joy in the presence of a child—her child—the only problem was finding a way to get that child. She considered adoption for a nanosecond. Women without a mate adopted children; why couldn’t she? But opting for adoption would mean reliving her past and the painful years leading to her nervous breakdown. She couldn’t dredge up those memories and worried that they’d park themselves in her brain. And then there was the financial aspect. Roxie had money from the trust fund Aunt Cecilia had set up for her, but again, that would involve more questions, ones she didn’t want to answer.

  Her therapist believed a child could be in her future, though she didn’t say when or how. Instead she asked Roxie what that would look like. Would the child be the result of a serious relationship? In vitro? Single parenting or a mate? Of course, the therapist who knew her well suggested that if a relationship were Roxie’s goal, then she needed to work on that long before she considered a baby. But Roxie had done the calculations and at her age knew that the eggs weren’t so young anymore. She wanted a child without the relationship and definitely not the husband or mate. How to achieve that was a bit trickier, and while the man she’d earmarked for the task had refused, she wasn’t giving up on him yet.

  There was always more than one way to solve a problem.

  Chapter 4

  It had been nine days since he’d heard from Roxie. After her bizarre offer and his subsequent refusal, she’d huffed her way out of his office with a vow to find someone else. Ha! Was the woman joking? You didn’t approach a guy and hit him with Excuse me, would you donate your sperm? Was the woman mad? Well, that was debatable and it had nothing to do with her stay in the psych unit all those years ago. He couldn’t blame her for the breakdown, not with the tidbits he’d learned about the controlling father who refused to acknowledge the importance of childhood and proceeded to push his daughter into the world of academia. Who wouldn’t explode and create an alter ego who was the complete opposite of the one the world lauded as genius, himself included?

  Except Roxie and Roberta weren’t exactly complete opposites. If Rhyder paid attention, he noticed the way she sometimes slipped into certain speech patterns and phrases that sounded more academic than the carefree Roxie she liked everyone to see. And when she added commentary about his drawings or included a suggestion, there was no mistaking the focused precision or the intellect. She didn’t add extraneous or excessive verbiage. No silly nonsense, no smiley faces beside her signature. The vocabulary she chose shifted to a higher level and while he didn’t enjoy hearing the suggestions, oftentimes they were correct.

  Although Roxie and Roberta shared similar qualities, he would bet his share of the business that Roberta had not possessed Roxie’s degree of unpredictability or total lack of regard for rules and decorum. There was a reason people ate dinner at the same time each day...subscribed to the same meal with minor variations...chose the same type of clothing. He could continue with the lists, but they were known as routines and there was a certain comfort in having one. Rhyder had his share of routines that included a haircut the third Wednesday of every month, a massage the first Tuesday, a visit to the tailor once every six weeks, a trip to the grocery store twice a week...dinner at his favorite restaurant the first Friday of the month, same table, same meal...a museum excursion once a quarter...

  Routine.

  Something Roxie apparently could not comprehend.

  Her lack of comprehension in this arena rivaled the lack of decorum and disregard for rules. Did the woman believe she could just pounce into his calm existence and ask for his sperm? Seriously? If the situation weren’t so outrageous, it would be comical. She hadn’t wanted him or any part of him other than his DNA. Now that was a first where most women were concerned. When was the last time that happened? Women were always after him, at least that’s what Ian told him, but Rhyder wouldn’t know because while he could appreciate a woman’s beauty, grace, and sense of humor, it was the complexity of her intellect that mattered most. That’s what fascinated him, made him want to learn more.

  And he hadn’t met a woman like that in years...

  Had he ever met a woman like that?

  No, he hadn’t. Rhyder paused, concentrated. Except...visions of the one woman whose complexity both captivated and infuriated him shot through his brain, landed on his right temple. Damn, why did it have to be her? The pain subsided, the vision smoothed, and an image in neon pink and heavy eyeliner stared back at him.

  Rhyder did end up with a full-blown migraine later that day and he knew the reason; she even had a name. Acknowledging that Roxie intrigued him was painful and while he wished it weren’t so, the indicators culminating in the migraine could not be ignored.

  What to do about it?

  There was only one solution and it would require tenacity, commitment, and resolve. He would meet this challenge head-on: unearth the mystery of the curious and mercurial Roxie Revito. Once he understood what drove her and where her weaknesses lay, he could anticipate her actions as well as her reactions, and she would become predictable and ordinary, just like every other woman he’d ever known.

  Three days later, Rhyder spotted her from across the room of an industry function Ian had talked him into attending. Why was she here? Small build, delicate. The word fragile came to mind, but that was like saying a scorpion was fragile. She might look like a rush of wind would topple her, but Roxie Revito should never be underestimated, not even if the tips of her spiky dark hair were dipped red, her nails bitten to nonexistence, her forearms layered in bangles, fingers sparkling with rings...not even if her tiny body were covered in a fabric that leaned toward bold, bright, and patterned: stripes, polka dots, zig-zag, leopard.

  Despite the outrageous and seemingly nonthreatening appearance, the woman should never be underestimated because something was always brewing in that genius brain of hers. What would it be this time? A commentary on his tie selection? Too boring? Too expensive? Too conservative? Or maybe she’d wait until he was in conversation with a fellow colleague before she popped in and added her eight cents. Of course, she could come at him again with a proposal to be a sperm daddy. It could be all of those or none of those, but Rhyder had devised a plan to mitigate his reluctant interest in her, and the only way to do that was through direct, consistent contact until he became immunized to the threat. He kept his gaze on her as he worked his way across the dance floor, slid onto the bar stool next to her. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

  “Ian thought it was a good idea.” She sipped her drink, shrugged. “He said it would be good to socialize.”

  “Ah.” Wait until he talked to Ian. Roxie didn’t belong here, not with so many vultures in the crowd, ready to make a move on her. They wouldn’t care if they were married or if she were. He recognized a few, some on their third marriage, others perpetually separated, still others terminally sin
gle. She needed to leave so he grabbed the first thought that charged his brain. “Technically, you shouldn’t be here. It’s by invitation only and you’re not our employee.”

  A huff and a sigh. “First, Ian invited me on behalf of the company. Second, I am an employee and you should know that because you sign the checks.” Another huff.

  “Right.” She’d been doing consulting work on and off for a few months, poking around and driving Rhyder crazy with her comments and improvement recommendations. Was she an architect? No, she was not. Was she an engineer? No, she was not. Well then? Why did she think she could tell him how to do his job? He’d asked Ian this question, and his response made Rhyder wish he’d kept his mouth shut. She’s an astrophysicist with the ability to work out problems in her head, and she has a talent for degrees, angles, and structures. Deal with it and let her help.

  “Did you really forget I’d been hired?”

  She tried to keep the hurt from her voice, but he heard it and felt like a jerk. “I remembered, but you know me, sometimes my ego gets in the way.”

  Her lips twitched. “That ego’s going to do you in one of these days. Give it another six months and it’ll weigh more than you do.”