The Perfect Deal

by Mary Campisi

  That made him laugh and he forgot about how she shouldn’t be here and how much she irritated him most of the time. “Nice hair.”

  Her lips pulled into a half-second frown before they smoothed into a smile. “Thank you.”

  No sarcastic retort? No scowl? Hmmm. No raised brow? A tiny hint of disappointment swirled through him. Even her hair looked calm, less dramatic without dyed tips or a pound of product turning them into spikes. This style was more about bangs and light layering, though he bet she could still get the spikes if she used enough product. Definitely a new look for a woman who embraced different and neon. His gaze shifted to her small ears. Where were the rows of studs? Why was she wearing silver hoops, normal-sized ones, and only one pair? “What happened to the studs?” He’d grown accustomed to them, curious to see the size, shape, and color of her latest fashion statements. He recalled bumblebees, dragonflies, cat faces, even snakes. Silver hoops on Roxie were just...boring.

  “What’s wrong with hoops?” She ran a hand through her non-spiky hair, shrugged. “Not conventional enough for you?”

  Rhyder detected a bit of the old, feisty Roxie in that comment. “Conventional?” He considered her words. “Yes, it’s conventional.” He sat back, rubbed his jaw. “But you’re anything but that. So, why’d you do it?” He could not resist teasing her. “Might I dare think it’s an attempt to draw interest and attract me?”

  She sat up straight, burned him with those green eyes. “You might if you’re a fool. Or you might use that tiny speck of gray matter between your ears and reason the truth.”

  “The truth? I see.” Of course, she wasn’t interested in him as anything other than a sperm donor. He knew that; he wasn’t a complete idiot. In fact, he wasn’t an idiot at all. He was quite intelligent, given to facts, figures, and analyses instead of emotion and feelings. But he did like getting her riled up and damn it, he wanted her to admit there was a tiny spark of attraction on her part and once she did, he might just concede to an equally tiny attraction on his part. That would lead to further discussions, analyses, and then he’d lay out the plan and the terms under which he’d agree to her request to father her child. Once he got into her brain and her bed, he’d be on his way to becoming immune to whatever inexplicable control she held over him. She’d get pregnant and deliver the baby, they’d co-parent or whatever the term was, and life would continue.

  End of Roxie Revito’s claim on his brain and all other areas that created uncertainty and unrest. But first, they had to establish a working agreement.

  “You’re staring.” Out came the scowl. “That’s rude and you know it.”

  “So it is.” He smiled, leaned toward her and whispered, “Perhaps I can’t take my eyes off your beauty. Ever consider that?”

  “No,” she bit out. “Never.”

  Never. Interesting word and one he would soon teach her to store in the archives of not to be used in his presence. Rhyder ordered a lime and tonic, let out a long, satisfied sigh. Roberta Revito, astrophysicist and author of Astrophysics: Then and Now, also Roxie’s alter ego, might have held his attention and his heart in a fantasy that did not exist in anything other than the most metaphysical states, but Roxie Revito? She did exist and the woman challenged him, unsettled him, stirred his blood and his brain in ways he’d never thought possible.

  He’d give her the child she wanted.

  But on his terms.

  Not hers.

  “Care for another drink?” He stared at the glass of clear liquid with a wedge of lime. It looked a lot like his, which was interesting since she favored the pastel-colored drinks with the crazy names.

  “I’m abstaining. I want my body to be as pure as possible.” She lifted her glass, settled her gaze on him. “For the baby.”

  Chapter 5

  “You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?” Ian studied him, mouth curved into a half smile as though he already knew the answer even if Rhyder didn’t.

  “Who? The woman across the floor who’s been staring at me all night?” Of course, Ian didn’t mean the brunette in the shrink-wrapped jumpsuit who’d been eying him. She might be attractive if she weren’t wearing a cosmetics counter on her face or stuffed into an outfit that resembled a second skin. Someone should tell her men didn’t like sharing with other men, even if it was a fantasy. Roxie would never put herself on display like that. Rhyder cleared his throat, came up with an answer he hoped would sidetrack his friend. “Regarding the woman who will approach me in the next eight minutes, she’s attractive enough but I have to engage in a conversation to score her intellect level. I will give her points for the no-nonsense attitude.”

  “No-nonsense attitude? What exactly does that mean?”

  A few more ridiculous and unfounded comments might convince his friend he was interested in the stranger. “She wants me. I can tell by the way she’s positioned herself to show just the right amount of cleavage to gain my interest, though that would prove impossible to do since she’s already revealed too much.” He sipped his lime and tonic, waited for Ian’s response.

  He did not expect a full-out laugh or slap on the back, but he received both. “No kidding? You’re interested in the brunette across the floor, not the one who’s dancing with the CEO of Welliver, Fleming & Kincaid? You know, the woman with the same initials as yours?”

  Rhyder darted a gaze at the real object of his attraction. Roxie floated across the floor, smiling up at the handsome new CEO, Anson Welliver. Women called him intelligent, attractive, honest. A good catch. Hadn’t he been named one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors last year? Rhyder knew men like Anson Welliver: arrogant, self-assured, too opinionated regarding his own intelligence. Yep, the man reminded him of…himself. Did Roxie find him attractive? Or worse, was she assessing the man as a DNA prospect for her child? No. Unacceptable. That was not happening. Rhyder cleared his throat and narrowed his gaze on Ian. “Don’t think we aren’t going to talk about this tomorrow. I just figured out why you invited Roxie and it has nothing to do with her socializing.” No indeed, this was about placing Roxie in a room filled with men and seeing what Rhyder would do.

  His best friend shrugged. “No idea what you mean.”

  “Of course you don’t.” He handed Ian his drink. “If you’ll excuse me, it appears my services are required.”

  “They are?” Ian’s lips twitched. “She doesn’t look like she needs your services. Nope, I’d say she’s all set with her very own Mr. Perfect.” The lips pulled into a full-blown grin. “Signal if you need a referee.”

  “We’re adults; the man is not going to take a swing at me because I cut in on his dance.”

  “He won’t, but Roxie could.” Ian laughed, patted him on the back. “She’s tiny but she sure has a temper.”

  That was an understatement. “Didn’t you promise C.C. you’d be home early?” He didn’t need his best friend witnessing whatever was about to happen, good or bad. With Roxie, it could go either way, or it could start out one way and just when you thought you could relax, she’d shift directions. It was infuriating and exhausting, but there had to be a pattern to that behavior and he was going to figure it out.

  “I’ve got time to finish my drink—” Ian lifted his glass, saluted him “—and witness the spectacle. Rhyder Remington joins the human race when he experiences that ugly emotion we call jealousy. I like the sound of that; what do you think?”

  “I think you have no idea what you’re talking about. Now go home.” Rhyder waved and moved toward the dance floor, his eyes on Roxie and Welliver as they floated across the floor, arm in arm. Why was she laughing? And why was he joining in? Hmm....a joke perhaps? Something clever and intimate, the sort Rhyder had witnessed others use in the past. Laser focused, intent, interested. He knew the look Welliver was giving Roxie: the sort that said he could be trusted, that he was not a threat, that he cared about her and what she said. It had never been necessary for Rhyder to employ these tactics with women because they swarmed him, no matte
r how cold, disinterested, or unaffected he’d been. That behavior only seemed to attract them more.

  Roxie was different. She wasn’t impressed with his looks, his sense of style, confidence, and certainly not his intelligence, which she called marginal. He did not possess marginal intellect and she knew it, even if she’d never admit it. Since the second she’d walked into his office pretending to be on the hunt for an architect to design a botanical garden for her aunt, she’d caused him grievous amounts of turmoil, more than one migraine, and thrust him into a continual state of confusion and agitation that affected his mood and his digestion.

  However...

  She was not boring, predictable, or average.

  While he dreaded the acknowledgment, she’d made him question his preconceived notions and ten-year plan. Not that he’d ever confess that to her, but her presence and her incessant commentary about his need to plan each detail of his existence made him consider the possibility that she might be somewhat correct. And he was not about to let an interloper get between whatever might or might not happen between him and Roxie, no matter how many credentials the man had. Rhyder moved toward Anson Welliver, ignored Roxie’s glare when she spotted him, and tapped the man on the shoulder. “May I?”

  Welliver offered what appeared to be a sincere smile and nodded. Before he released Roxie’s hand, he leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. The music and the man’s closeness to Roxie prevented Rhyder from overhearing. As if he couldn’t guess. Rhyder clasped her hand, placed his other hand on her back, and proceeded to waltz across the room. “Where’d you learn to waltz?” His gaze slipped to hers, held it. Her dress matched her eyes. What was that exact color? Olive? Emerald? Lime?

  “Why?” She stiffened, narrowed her gaze on him. “Are you going to critique me and make a list of everything I’m doing wrong?”

  “No, actually I was going to tell you you’re an excellent dancer. And I’m merely curious.” Curious also as to why he’d never noticed the gold flecks in her eyes, eyes that upon closer inspection were a mix of olive and lime. Unique and quite intriguing. Maybe he’d never noticed them before because she usually had them rimmed in black eyeliner and it made it difficult to pick out the details. Almost like a camouflage that hid the real person. Or maybe because he’d never been this close to her before...

  Those olive-lime eyes narrowed, and when he didn’t add the sarcasm, her mouth softened and she said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You seemed awfully cozy with Anson Welliver. What’s going on with you two?” Rhyder knew the intricacies of male-female attraction and Anson Welliver was attracted to Roxie. Or the version Roxie showed him—the demure, intelligent sophisticate with sparkling olive-lime eyes and a throaty laugh.

  “Going on? You mean as in a conversation? Or did you mean the dance?” The tiny nostrils flared, the eyes narrowed. “I found him interesting…attractive…and well spoken.” She offered up a smile. “Attributes my current dance partner does not possess.”

  The jab pinged him, shot a pain to his right temple. The woman knew how to get to him, even with a smile. Well, he could get to her, too. “I suppose he’s nice enough and I could tell by his body posture and the smiles that he’s intrigued with you. Of course, we both know he doesn’t have a clue about the real you.” It was his turn to narrow his gaze, let a few seconds pass before he expounded. “You know, the one with the sharp tongue, the three-inch eyeliner, the snorts and scowls, and the brain that refuses to relax.” He eyed the gelled hair and the hoop earrings. “And I’d be curious to see what he’d say when he saw you wolfing down a pint of ice cream and making unladylike noises as you do it.” He laughed, pictured the strait-laced CEO sitting next to Roxie as she stuffed cheese curls in her mouth.

  “I don’t know what he’d say, but I’m going to find out.”

  Oh, but she loved to torment him. “Okay, you got me. How are you going to find out?” They’d only had one dance and the three-second conversation could not have entailed more than a meet-and-greet and a few niceties.

  “Anson invited me to dinner and I accepted. The Oak Bench. Very classy.” She studied him as if waiting for his response and when he continued to stare, she added, “Ian said it’s your go-to place when you have a new friend. So, I thought if it works for the Almighty Rhyder Remington, why not give it a try.”

  Agitation swirled through his gut, shot to his throat. Blast the woman. “What’s your endgame, Roxie? Are you interviewing him for sperm donation?” He’d like to hear that conversation.

  She tossed him a smile. “I doubt he’d be interested in the same proposal I offered you. I realize he’s a man with a heart—” she eyed him a second too long “—someone like that would require more of a...commitment.”

  Rhyder tried to ignore the twitch in his jaw but it was impossible. When Roxie Revito was near him, jaw twitching became an involuntary reflex. “You’re interested in a relationship with him? As in something beyond sperm donation?” When she shrugged, he spat out, “You’re interested in him?” Was she serious? No, she couldn’t be. “And you determined that in the four minutes of conversation and dancing you shared?” She rolled her eyes and Rhyder wished he’d stayed home tonight with a roomful of quiet and a good book.

  “Four minutes is three minutes longer than I needed to assess his level of reliability, sincerity, and integrity. However, I didn’t want to rely on the possibility that Anson’s looks and manners might persuade me so I researched the guest list ahead of time and narrowed down potential prospects.”

  “You did what?” Even Rhyder, the king of detachment, had never done that. It seemed this woman possessed a calculating air about her that even he did not subscribe to… “Leave him alone. You’ll steamroll the man. He’ll never see you coming and you’ll destroy him. It’s not right. Don’t do it, Roxie.”

  She tilted her head and held his gaze, her voice dipping. “So, are you reconsidering my offer? I mean, if you’d like to discuss it and the parameters I’ve laid out again, I’m open to it.” She lifted a small shoulder, laughed. “It would certainly up the timetable and save me from having to court Anson and mind my manners. Plus, I wouldn’t have to act like this was about more than getting a baby. But again, maybe with Anson it would be.” Pause and the softest, “Maybe with him it wouldn’t just be like it would be with you.”

  There was a huskiness in her voice laced with curiosity, and the pupil dilation indicated desire, even if she would never admit it. There was something going on between them though they both continued to deny it. Still, she wanted a sperm donor, and for some ridiculous reason, he seemed to want her. Not long term, not serious, but enough to get her out of his system, procreate, and share the business of a child together. People did it all the time. Hadn’t Ian planned to do that very same thing before he made the mistake of falling in love with C.C. and crashing every plan he and Rhyder had?

  No sense ignoring the fact that the guy was happier than he’d ever been since Rhyder had known him, but that really was not the point. No, the point was keeping emotions out of decisions and once he slept with Roxie… Of course, it might take two or three or twenty-three times for her to get pregnant, but certainly once that happened and probably long before, he’d figure out her behavior patterns, and the intrigue that kept her in the corner of his brain would fade and disappear. It had to because logic dictated it would. Rhyder did not do relationships or emotion or long term. His parents had seen to that.

  “So?” She tugged on his jacket sleeve. “Are you in or out?”

  “In or out? What an interesting turn of phrase. I’d say at the moment I’m out, but with a little—”

  She stepped away and swatted his arm, her expression a mix of anger and disgust. “You, Rhyder Remington, are a beast. Crude. Insufferable. Horrid.”

  “And you love it, even if you refuse to admit it.” He straightened his tie and smiled. “Let’s continue this discussion tomorrow. Seven o’clock. My place. I’ll make the sushi. You bring
the chocolate flourless cake.” He turned and walked away but not before he spotted the tiniest smile flitting across her face. Oh yes, he and Roxie could continue their verbal sparring tomorrow, but sooner or later, they were destined to continue more than that.

  Chapter 6

  She should have added white flour, crushed jalapeno peppers, and a healthy dollop of lard to the cake. Maybe two dollops. It would serve the man right for tormenting her about Anson Welliver. She knew how to behave in polite company, how to use the right fork, ask witty questions. Why couldn’t she be attracted to someone like that? In fact, why shouldn’t she? The man had a certain grace about him and spoke in a very proper voice, almost like he was royalty. The smile dazzled. The blue eyes sparkled. And that dimple on the left side of his mouth? She bet it was very kissable. Roxie hadn’t spotted a touch of silver on that dark head, unlike someone she knew who had more than a touch or two. How about those hands? Strong, capable. Something told her Anson knew exactly what to do with them. So why hadn’t she felt the slightest fizz as she waltzed around the floor with him? Zip. Nada.

  Ugh. It was that damnable Rhyder Remington and his half-baked ideas that had planted themselves in her brain and refused to leave. Of course, she’d spotted him watching her as she twirled in Anson Welliver’s arms, and that only made her bolder, more interested in her dance partner, even if she had to pretend.

  And now one day later, she sat on her tormentor’s oh-so-comfy leather couch, cross-legged, devouring the sushi he made earlier today. What kind of man actually made sushi? No need to guess on that one. Rhyder Remington did and it was delicious. She didn’t even mind the brown rice he’d substituted for white and the extra kick in the eel roll was perfect. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, sighed. Just perfect.

  The throat clearing caught her attention and she slid her gaze to the man seated in the recliner across from her. “Why is it you can’t eat without making those pleasure sounds as if you were…”