by Mary Campisi
The Perfect Deal
A Workplace Romance
Mary Campisi
Mary Campisi Books, LLC
Copyright © 2020 by Mary Campisi
The Perfect Deal is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and situations are all products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, locales, or events are purely coincidental. This book is copyright protected. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-942158-77-6
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Introduction to Excerpt
Paradise Found
About the Author
Other Books by Mary Campisi
Introduction
Brilliant, free-spirited Roxie Revito wants a baby and she wants Rhyder Remington’s DNA to get it. The man might be uptight and way too conservative, but he has an IQ that equals hers.
Rhyder’s not interested in the over-opinionated, pint-sized dynamo with too much attitude until she turns clinical on him and cites his duty to procreate genius. Of course, she’s thinking in vitro... of course, he’s not...
Desperate for a child, Roxie agrees to a proposed “arrangement” that includes a massive spreadsheet with formulas, schedules, and probabilities that calculate the best and quickest chance to reach her goal.
But neither has calculated the heat and desire they’ll generate with their “togetherness” and that threatens the perfect deal.
* * *
Best Intentions series:
Book 1: The Sweetest Deal
Book 2: The Perfect Deal
Book 3: TBD
* * *
Bonus: Included in this e-book is the first chapter of Paradise Found, Book 4 of That Second Chance series.
This book is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow writer, Debby Conrad. Thank you for always being there for me.
Chapter 1
Roxie Revito wanted a baby.
Was there anything more calming than holding a tiny creature in your arms, listening to the faint breaths, inhaling the pure scent, touching the soft skin? Witnessing the miracle of life in all of its innocence and beauty? She’d never considered a child, not when her strict upbringing dictated the necessity of a man and a marriage to achieve that goal. That criteria was a big no thank-you.
Still, the ache to share boundless, unconditional love with a child of her own made Roxie contemplate the inconceivable. She didn’t need a man, didn’t need a marriage, and she certainly didn’t need a commitment. All she needed was a very small donation. Yes, she might have to prove that she was qualified to be a single parent, but how difficult would that be? She’d never failed a test in her thirty-four years and she didn’t intend to fail this one either.
Apparently, her best friend, C.C. thought it was not only difficult but had called the idea impossible.
Roxie, a baby? That’s a lifetime commitment. You don’t want to commit to a pair of pants or a haircut for longer than a month. C.C. had stared at Roxie, speaking in a voice that could only be called disbelief. You’re only seeing one side of having a child, the side where everything is always bright and happy. Where there are no dirty diapers or spit-up or high fevers or sleepless nights. Or worse. You need someone on your side...a partner. I’ve got Ian; we’re committed to our baby and to each other. Can’t you see how difficult it would be to go it alone?
I don’t need anybody. I just need a donor.
But you do need somebody. C.C.’s voice had shifted, turned sad. Why don’t you work on a relationship first and then think about a baby?
Sure. You’re right. Bad idea. Roxie had clammed up, hiding the truth from her best friend. C.C. believed in her husband, happily-ever-after, and a charmed life. She trusted the guy, loved him, shared a life and a baby with him. How could Roxie tell her yet again that she wasn’t interested in anything but the baby? She couldn’t, so she pretended that she agreed with C.C.’s comment about a baby without a partner being a bad idea.
Of course, for a person like Roxie, who’d lived her life surrounded by and applauded for her genius with mathematical equations, theories, and statistics, she knew the only answer to this particular problem was a baby without a partner.
And that led her to her next quandary.
A donor.
She didn’t want just any donor: intelligence was key, along with a fair amount of deductive reasoning. Pair those two with a parent who would make sure the child wouldn’t be thrust into a life of competition and goal setting, even if said child were qualified and eager to please, and the kid had a chance of becoming a solid human being. Roxie’s child would not spend weekends proving out theories. Nope. Her kid would bury his or her hands in Play-Doh and sand and flour and... The possibilities flitted through Roxie’s imagination, made her anxious and excited.
This child would have a chance to be a child.
In vitro was the way to go, especially with the particular person she had in mind. No touching, none of that skin to skin, no revealing the appendix scar or the random spots of eczema that crept up now and then. Of course, the blasted man would notice all of it and then he’d ask too many questions. He was so very good at asking too many questions and expecting an answer, no matter how inappropriate. Or maybe he wouldn’t ask any questions; she’d seen him pull that trick as well. But the assessment and the calculations would continue in that brain of his, and while he might not comment on his “findings,” he’d store the results for future reference.
Ugh, no way was she subjecting herself to that! She’d read a few articles about the in vitro procedure but when her brain started to picture the step-by-step process, she had to shut it down. Why worry about the details of it until she had the donor lined up? Besides, one of her clients had done it two years ago, said it was totally worth it. She had a baby boy named Leo and the last time Roxie cut her hair, she shared his birthday pictures. Cute kid, curly black hair, rosy cheeks, and a laugh on him that made even the grouchiest person smile.
Who could say no to that? And the client told Roxie you could “freeze” your eggs in case you wanted to try again later on. Hmm. Maybe. First, she had to convince the guy to do it. The best way to present the offer was by going after the most obvious: his overblown, ridiculous ego. She’d toss out a whole list of reasons why he was the most logical choice, the only choice.
Don’t let your intelligence die with you. It would be a true shame and such a loss. She’d lower her voice, maybe shake her head and try for a sniff or two. Nope, forget the sniffing. He’d guess her game if she overdid it and then he’d flat out refuse. The man would respond better to more ego stroking, things like, Think of the future of mankind and how combining our DNA could create a true genius. Your genius. And then the clincher that should close the deal. And you don’t even have to be a father. You can make your “donation” and walk away. No dirty diapers to change, no midnight crying, no fussiness. You get your sleep, your
sanity, your starched shirts and silk ties minus the spit-up, and you get to continue going about your business, same as before. No commitment required. Oh, she liked that last line and bet he’d like it, too.
He really was the perfect choice. In fact, he was the only choice once she considered his insistence that he had no desire to be a father or a husband. That meant he wouldn’t try to get all emotional on her and think his donation meant he had to stick around. No worries there because the man did not possess anything close to an emotion, at least not the warm, fuzzy kind necessary for baby raising and family time. Oh, but the man could be so annoying with his overbearing commentary on style, etiquette, and the reason chicken wings were not real food. What did he know? He’d probably never tasted a chicken wing in his life. Still, he was the only person she’d ever met who might actually share her degree of intellect. And he could be engaging when he chose to be...
Roxie refused to consider the nanosecond or two when she’d been around the man and felt breathless. No doubt from agitation or irritation, maybe even indigestion. She did tend to stuff herself in his presence. Three chicken wings weren’t enough with that man eyeing her, not when five would drag a scowl across his serious face and seven would get a shake of his head. He was so judgmental and stuffy...and obnoxious. Definitely obnoxious. She let out a soft sigh. Such a pain. The sigh slipped into another one as she pictured his dark eyes studying her, his firm lips pulling into a faint smile.
Such a pain.
And when he laughed, which wasn’t often, his eyes sparkled like the row of studs in Roxie’s left ear. Bright. Mesmerizing. Unique. One more sigh slipped out before she grabbed a hand-crocheted pillow from the end of the couch, rested her head on it, and pulled out her cell phone. It was time to set up a meeting with the man who could make Roxie’s dream come true.
Chapter 2
“You can’t be serious.” Rhyder Remington stared at the woman who’d caused him enough grief with her antics and commentary to last him ten lifetimes.
“Why not? It’s a brilliant concept, one I thought you might embrace if you could consider it in an abstract fashion.”
The woman had her share of ideas, none of them logical, but what was truly illogical was the fact that Roxie Revito was a former astrophysicist-turned-haircutter who’d earned a Ph.D. before she turned twenty-one. How was it even possible that she could be the same person? He’d like to ask her what the mathematical probabilities of that were, but she might actually calculate the number and spit it out...in less than a minute...without use of a calculator or paper. Rhyder was not going to chance that. It was difficult enough to concede that the woman had an intelligence level to match his: he did not want to witness evidence that it might actually surpass his.
Rhyder was still annoyed that little Miss Astrophysicist Haircutter had been recruited by Ian to work on Phase 2 of the nature and community-friendly office park deal that had landed Ian a wife and a multimillion-dollar project. Rhyder was the architect for their business, had been one for almost ten years: well-respected, knowledgeable, precise. He hadn’t needed some “rookie” who just so happened to make a few suggestions on a plan she’d seen to join the “team,” as Ian called it. Team? There was no team. Rhyder and Ian were the only members of the team unless you counted their assistant, Jenna.
But Ian didn’t see it that way and neither did the owner of the business, Ian’s father-in-law, mega-landowner, tough businessman Grayson Crowell. If the man wanted something, he got it, though he’d mellowed a bit since he married his housekeeper, Maggie. Rhyder blew out a quiet sigh, recalled the almost-disaster involving those two. Too much emotion for him, especially when it involved a couple and a future. Did no one believe it was acceptable, even desirable, to be alone, sleep alone, live alone? People were an odd lot.
Speaking of odd lot...
He glanced at the woman who gave him a headache and heartburn whenever she was near. Roxie Revito: pixie haircut with red tips, rows of piercings along both ears, way too much black eyeliner. His gaze slid to the leopard print T-shirt. If she thought he’d ever strike a deal with her, then she could think again. Absolutely not happening. “Look, why don’t we delete this conversation from our brains before it becomes a permanent record?” Him and Roxie? Uh, that was a hard pass. The woman annoyed and antagonized him and he didn’t find her the least bit attractive.
Rhyder backpedaled on that last thought. Maybe he found a few traits he considered acceptable: the laughter that rolled from her and invited others to join in, the many ways she contorted her face in response to a happy or unhappy situation, the snide comments mumbled just above her breath. The constant motion of those small hands...the way she tilted her head just so as she contemplated something...most likely her next scheme...
Well, this scheme was the most ludicrous yet and he was not going to be part of it.
“I don’t know why you have to make such a big deal about a little request.” She huffed, rolled her eyes. “I’m only asking for a small contribution from you.” Her lips pinched, the gaze narrowed to black slits. “It’s the least you can do for the future of mankind.”
He shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help himself. “The future of mankind? A small contribution? I don’t think so…” Since Ian and C.C.’s baby’s christening, he’d only seen Roxie a few times, but each encounter left him exhausted and on the verge of a migraine. No sense pretending the reason behind his avoidance tactics. It had to do with Roxie’s big revelation that the astrophysicist cousin Rhyder had become obsessed with was actually Roxie.
How could they be the same person? Roberta Revito was a genius: the woman had written a book on astrophysics, had a Ph.D. Roxie? Lord no... He massaged his left temple, tried to push away thoughts of the woman who cut hair instead of evaluating chemical analyses, dressed in neon and animal prints and tossed out bizarre commentary that oftentimes included words that weren’t even words...all in an effort to refute his statements. How did she manage to best him more often than not? That was the real question, the true agitator.
Roxie let out another huff, accompanied by a big scowl. “You won’t even consider it?”
He eyed her. “Not even for a millisecond. It’s a ridiculous idea.”
She leapt out of the chair, squared her shoulders, and lashed out. “Fine. If you won’t agree, I’ll find someone who will. You aren’t the only male with a brain.”
Ah, he suspected there was a compliment buried in that statement, but he’d rather she kept her compliments and her ideas in her head. “Roxie, you’ve got to stop.” What was she going to do? Hold up a sign asking for volunteers?
“Stop? I’m not stopping until I get what I want and if you won’t give it to me, I’ve created a short list of men who will.”
Rhyder blew out a sigh, studied her. She unsettled him, had from the first time he met her. There was a lot more to Roxie Revito than she let anyone see, but blend that with the knowledge that she was Roberta, a genius? That baffled him and not in a good way. He ignored the shot to his gut when she mentioned other candidates. “You think it’s a simple business transaction, but it won’t be. You’ll see.” He forced his voice to remain even, unaffected. “And then you’re going to regret it.”
She raised a brow, frowned. “No, I won’t. I understand how to keep business and emotions separate, and I thought you did, too.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, shook his head. “I’m the king of separating business and emotion, but you’re talking about something altogether different.”
The frown deepened. “Not the way I see it. All you have to do is sign a few papers and make a small donation.”
The woman knew exactly how to escalate his annoyance and his blood pressure. He’d have to practice an extra session of deep breathing and meditation tonight, no doubt about it, but right now he had to show her how futile and foolish her ideas were. He eased out of his chair, stood and glared at her. “A small contribution? You’re talking about a child.”
“How exactly would we do that?” She wanted to have sex with him to get a baby? He’d heard of such tactics, but usually the trap was the pregnancy to get the man. Roxie had never shown the slightest interest in him as a mate or anything other than a cerebral sparring partner. Rhyder focused on his breathing, tried to push aside visions of Roxie’s small body pressed against his...
“Here’s the name of my doctor. You’ll meet with her and she’ll go over the details.”
“Doctor? Details?” Rhyder grabbed the business card, homed in on fertility specialist and in vitro... “You want a test-tube baby?!”
“That’s such a cold term. I like to think of it as having a baby without the complications.”
“Complications?”
She offered the tiniest smile. “You know...the complications that come with a relationship.” The smile spread; those tiny hands opened as she continued her sales pitch. “You don’t have to deal with any of that. Once you complete your part, we’re done. No getting involved with runny noses, stinky diapers, the teenage years, braces...tuition.” Her voice dipped, turned soft and fuzzy. “You can skip all of it.”
“Let me see if I understand this.” He rubbed his jaw, tried to read between the blurred lines Roxie had manufactured. “You expect me to father a child for you via artificial insemination and then walk away from all rights to that child?” He’d never particularly wanted a child, but he hadn’t not wanted one either. The situation had never presented itself, possibly because he’d refused to consider or permit it. Caution and precautions could prevent such a conversation, which was why there’d been no need for one. But in a hypothetical situation, if Rhyder found himself involved in a pregnancy, then he damn well would be involved in the child’s life as well. Maybe not the mother’s life, but definitely the child’s, and if Roxie didn’t know that, then she’d made a grave miscalculation about his character.