The Sweetest Deal (10 page)

“It’s…”

He loved her.

“I’m seeing David again.”

He was going to marry—“What did you say?”

She cleared her throat. Twice. Then she opened her mouth and spoke as though she were making a presentation to the board. “I ran into David three days ago. He’s divorced now and…” her voice trailed off.

“And what?” He struggled to get the words out.

“We realized we still have feelings for each other. We’re going to give it another chance.”

“Did you sleep with him while I was gone?” A rush of pain shot through his chest, hard and hot and unbearable.

She looked away and said nothing.

Which told him everything.

“Does he know about me?” Let her deny that.

“I told him.”

Max advanced on her, narrowing the space between them until all he could smell was her citrus scent. “What was I to you anyway, C.C.? A human vibrator?”

Her jaw tightened. “I think you should leave.”

“Right.” He didn’t move. He couldn’t. If he walked out now, he’d be walking out of the best part of his life.

“I think it would be best if I worked through Rhyder from now on.”

He found his voice and managed to speak. “I don’t think so.” Max prided himself on how calm he sounded considering he’d just been pole-axed.

“It would only be awkward. Rhyder seems perfectly capable and he can relay the information to you.”

She was right. How was he supposed to sit across from her and talk about city ordinances and pretend he’d never touched her, never been buried deep inside her? Never planned to spend the rest of his life with her?

It was going to be damn awkward.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said. “My office. 8:00 a.m.”

Rhyder heard the banging seconds before Roxie Revito’s high pitched squeal bounced against the door. “Rhyder! Rhyder Remmington, you open this door right now or I swear, I will stand out here and yell until the police come.”

Damn that woman!
What time was it? He shoved his glasses on his face and squinted. Two-thirty.
A.M. What could she possibly want at this hour?
He tossed a T-shirt and shorts on and padded his way to the front door. “Hold on, hold on!”

Rhyder unlocked the deadbolt and flung open the door. “Get in here before the cops show up.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her inside. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Roxie pushed his arm away and hissed, “Did you know about your buddy’s deal with Grayson Crowell?”

He took a step out of striking range. She might be a pixie, but he bet she packed a dynamo punch. “What are you talking about?”

She advanced on him like a she-cat scouting prey. “You knew.”

It was merely a guess; the woman had nothing on him. And where was Max? Had he actually told C.C.? Not a smart move. Max always cared too much about things—people, integrity, the truth. “You show up in the middle of the night like some banshee madwoman and accuse me of being involved in something I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Did you know about Max’s deal with C.C.’s father to get her pregnant in exchange for your damn office park?”

He pretended surprise but he must have been a half second too late with his reaction because the she-cat lunged at him and pummeled his arm. “You no good, son of a—”

“Hey!” Rhyder had no choice but to smother her with both arms to get her to stop. Even then she squirmed for a few more shots but he just tightened his hold. When she brought her knee up, he stepped on her other foot, hard. “That’s enough,” he ground out. “If you want a fight, go find a punching bag. If you want to talk, go sit down and talk.”

“You’re killing my toes,” she hissed. “Let me go.”

“Are you done attacking me?” He looked down to gauge her sincerity. Without two inches of eyeliner, he could see her green eyes. Cat eyes. And her skin was a faint olive, not the paste she wore in daylight hours. And her lips were soft and pink…

“Don’t you think about it or I’ll turn you into a girl.”

Rhyder jerked away. What the hell had come over him? This was the maniac she-devil. God, it was late and he was delusional. “Go sit down. We need to talk.” She trudged to his couch and plopped on it. The woman had the manners of a mule.

“You sit over there,” she said, pointing to a leather recliner. “And don’t touch me again.”

Ah, useful information. The woman didn’t like to be touched. Or maybe, she just didn’t like to be touched by him. Good. Now he knew how to get to her—a useful tool when battling one’s opponent. Rhyder slid into the recliner. “Now start talking, from the beginning, and see if you can keep your voice below screaming level and your hands to yourself.”

She growled at him. The woman actually growled. He would’ve laughed but she might lunge at him again.

“C.C. called half-hysterical tonight. Said Max made a deal with her father to get her pregnant in exchange for this all-important stupid office park.”

All important. It was a hellava deal and well worth an ounce of sperm for a woman who wanted a kid anyway. But he didn’t think she’d see it that way. “Did Max tell her that?” If he did, then Rhyder was screwed.

The pixie on the couch snorted. “Do you think he’s stupid? Of course, he didn’t tell her.”

“Then how did she come up with this ludicrous idea?” There was still a chance to squirm out of the truth. If Max kept his mouth shut nobody had any hard proof, which meant the accusations were just supposition, which meant Rhyder could continue to deny everything.

Roxie shrugged. “She’s not stupid, you know. Women can tell when it’s fake.”

“Well, that’s true. It’s a bit difficult for a man to fake it.”

“You’re crude. I wasn’t referring to sex, you imbecile.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Of course she wasn’t talking about sex, but he wanted to throw her off balance so she’d start spewing information before she realized what she was doing. His professor father had taught him that answers were always in the details, no matter how insignificant.

Another snort. “I was referring to relationships. Women know when they’re fake.”

“And men don’t?” Now that annoyed him. She was treating men, a category to which he belonged, as a subspecies with limited reasoning and deductive capabilities. That, he resented. Very much.

“They are totally, totally,
totally
clueless.” She ruffled her spiky hair and groaned.

“You think Max was faking it with C.C.?” Strange, he hadn’t picked up on that. If anything, he’d been worried his friend was moving the other way, toward commitment and until-death nonsense.

“Yeah, I do.”

Rhyder glanced at the clock. Two forty-five. He should just call good old Max and ask him. What a great idea. He’d get an answer and he’d shut down Roxie Revito’s overactive imagination. If Max intended to go legit with C.C., then what did it matter if he made a side deal with her old man? It wouldn’t.

Not unless she found out.

“You know,” Rhyder said, reaching for the phone, “I think we’ll just call Max and ask him.”

“No!” She shot off the couch and grabbed the phone. “Do not call him. C.C. made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“But you just told me.” The woman was radically unbalanced, he was certain of it. Why couldn’t she possess one tiny part of her cousin’s DNA? Then he could reason with her and she’d understand
and
agree with him.

“Only because you can do something about it.” Her expression softened. “I can’t see her go through what she did with the last guy. We’ve got to find a way to help.”

“We?” How had he gotten dragged into this mess?

“You’re his friend.”

“Which is why I want to call him and set things straight.” He calculated her reaction if Max confessed his subterfuge. Did little Miss Hairdresser have scissors in that bag she’d lugged in? He had a feeling if she did she’d try to use them on him for more than a haircut.

“Max can’t find out C.C. knows.”

“Then what do you want, Roxie? I do not intend to sit up the rest of the night discussing unfounded accusations. If, and I say
if
, Max made some sort of deal with Grayson Crowell, I’d say it’s negated by Max’s true intentions.”

“Hah! And what intentions would those be?”

Rhyder was a numbers guy and he’d been following the indications long enough to develop a few hypotheses. He hated to admit it, but indicators didn’t lie. “Max is in love with C.C.,” he said matter-of-factly. “My guess is he’ll buy the ring in the next month if he hasn’t already done so.”

That shut her up. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Then her eyes narrowed and she sneered. “Is this another lie, Rhyder Remmington? Because if it is, so help me, I will make you suffer.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s not a lie. I’m ninety-nine percent certain it will happen. Soon.”

She eased back into the couch cushions and pulled her legs under her chin. Her whole body didn’t cover one cushion. “How can you be so certain?”

“I’ve known Max a lot of years. When he talks about her, he gets this sickening comical look on his face like he actually misses her. Max never missed his women. He used to have me call so he could get out of commitments. He hasn’t called me once since he’s met C.C.”

“Woo-hoo, give him a Man of the Year award.”

“That’s a big deal for a guy who’s sworn off commitment.”

“I’m sure.”

“And he’s stayed over at her place. Several times. Max was always the kind of guy who left before morning.”

Roxie tapped her finger against her pointy chin. “So, he liked sex with her better.”

“You don’t get it, do you? Max is in love with the woman.”

Pause. Then, “Uh-oh.”

“What now?” He tried to keep the frustration from creeping into his voice but dammit, she had him on the edge.

“You really think he loves her?”

“Yes.” Was he speaking Chinese?

Roxie dragged her hands over her face and groaned. “Max loves C.C.”

“That’s what I just said.” She had the reasoning ability of a pea.

“That’s a problem.”

“You’re really trying my patience, Roxie. Tell me why it’s a problem.”

She pulled little tufts of hair and said, “Because C.C. told Max she’s involved with her ex-boyfriend, the guy who burned her. She’s not, you know, but she told Max to save face; made up this big story. And he believes it.”

“So, now he can tell her the truth and they can live happily ever after. And I can go back to bed.”

“It won’t work that way, Rhyder. We have to play matchmaker and you have to promise not to tell Max that C.C. knows about the deal.”

“He’s my best friend. I’m not going to lie to him.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, I’m only asking you to withhold information that could be detrimental to both of them. C.C. has to figure this out on her own. If Max tells her he loves her now, she’ll always wonder if he’s only saying it because she found out. Women are funny that way. They don’t take everything at face value like men do.”

“Just because men don’t pull out the microscope for every conversation, doesn’t mean we don’t think things through.” Women really thought men were idiots.

“If you tell Max now, they won’t stand a chance. Let C.C. work through this little charade pretending interest in her ex. It’ll never hold up and then maybe Max will get the male parts to tell her the truth
and
tell her he loves her. Now that will win her back.”

Roxie’s idea was about as linear as a circle. “I’ve got a better plan. Why don’t we just tell them both the truth and let them figure it out?”

“I told you, we can’t.” She tossed one of his pillows in the air, caught it. “They’ve got to work this out, with a little help from us, of course.”

“Of course.” He smelled disaster.

“I’ll make a deal with you.” She slid him a sideways glance. “If you keep your mouth shut and help me, I’ll introduce you to Roberta.”

Roberta. His dream woman.

“Rhyder? Do we have a deal?”

He wondered what Roberta looked like. He pictured a tall, slender woman with dark hair and deep, soulful eyes. A woman who looked nothing like her meddling cousin. Rhyder’s lips curved in anticipation. “We have a deal.”

“Good. So, we’re in this together. Max finds out C.C. knows, your chances with Roberta are done. Got it?”

He nodded. The woman packed a threatening punch even when she wasn’t using her fists.

“One more thing.”

He sighed. “How could there possibly be one more thing?”

“Guess how C.C. found out about Max’s little deal?”

“Let me guess? The
Chicago Tribune
was running a front-page cover story.”

She wrinkled her nose and made a face. “Max’s ex.”

“Candace?” Now there was a woman he couldn’t tolerate, not even in conversation. “Candace told her?”

A smile split Roxie Revito’s small face. “She did. So, you see, I know he made the deal, even if you want to play stupid, and if I were a numbers girl, I’d bet you knew about it, too.” She stretched out on the couch and crossed her legs.

Damn,
but the woman could wear a man down. “Okay. Okay, I knew. Max didn’t want to agree, but I told him it wasn’t a big deal, everybody was getting something and he’d get a kid out of it, without a wife.”

She scratched her head, pulled at a spike of hair. “Only now he wants the child
and
the wife. You’re sure?”

Rhyder sighed. “I’m absolutely sure.”

***

C.C. rolled over. If she could just sleep a little longer… Maybe two years would be enough. Or two centuries. Thoughts of last night trampled her brain, tore at the shreds of heart she had left, and killed the last hope she held for decent men.

Max had used her to get a deal. And her father knew all about it—in fact, it was his idea. That’s why he hadn’t been pushing her so much lately. He’d thought he’d found a clever way to accomplish his mission, which apparently was to get her a baby.

If Candace hadn’t shown up, C.C. would have continued in mindless oblivion forever, or until she became pregnant and Max disappeared. That would be the plan, wouldn’t it? Business for baby?

C.C. opened her eyes, which still burned from last night’s tears. She’d never cried this much before, not even when she’d found out about David’s pregnant wife. Maybe because she’d believed Max really
was
a decent man. Or maybe because she’d believed he really cared about her, not her name or money. And she’d let herself start believing they had a future together. Maybe even, yes, a baby.

It didn’t matter now. Roxie was right; screw all men. Thank God Roxie had come over with raspberry sorbet and an extra box of tissues. C.C. would call her in a little while and tell her she was okay, even though she wasn’t, and Roxie would say something bizarre to force a smile.

C.C. inched into a sitting position, trying to keep her head still so it wouldn’t throb so much. She needed coffee. And a shower. Then she’d call her father. Her gaze shot to the hall and the cluster of red roses wilting in silver foil. Next to the roses was the bottle of Dom Perignon. And there, tucked behind the other two, was her salvation. C.C. wobbled to her feet and made her way to the hall entrance. She snatched the bag of cookies and plopped down in the nearest chair, too exhausted and in need of a fix to make it back to the couch. She tore the bag open and reached inside.

And stopped.

She closed the bag and tossed it aside. Time to take control of her life, and she could start with swearing off Triple Chocolate Macadamia Nut cookies. It was a small step but she’d be swearing off other things she loved as well. And people. Correction: person.

C.C. scrambled to her feet and ran into the kitchen where she stuffed the bag in the back of the freezer and slammed the door shut. There. One small step toward controlling her life.

She called her father next.

“Catherine? It’s only six-thirty. Is everything all right?”