The Sweetest Deal (9 page)

“I’ll be back in five days,” Max promised.

“But it will seem like fifty.”

“So, you’ll miss me.”

She kissed his chest. “Only your body.”

Max laughed and ran a hand along her bare back, his body exhausted yet still tingling after their most recent lovemaking. C.C. lay across his chest, her hair brushing his chin, her legs entwined with his. They’d spent the last three Saturdays this way. In bed. Naked.

A man could get used to this. After their first night together, he’d packed a bag and only gone back to his own condo to pick up mail and fresh clothes. Max looked forward to the mundane tasks of grocery shopping, laundry, cooking—because C.C. was with him. “I wouldn’t go to Los Angeles if Rhyder didn’t think it was necessary. Costa Mesa Development wants to hear about what we’re doing here.”

“I know.” She traced his left nipple with her finger.

“I’d take you if I could.” He wanted her again.

“Hmmm.” Her tongue flicked his nipple.

“But you’d probably tie me to the bed and I wouldn’t get any work done.”

Her throaty laugh shot straight to his groin. “That’s a thought.”

He’d lost count of the number of times they’d made love these past three weeks. He’d worn a condom every single time—except twice and well, wearing a condom in the shower was a near impossible feat. And the other time…she’d come to him in the middle of the night and latex was the last thing on his mind.

Two times out of thirty? Forty? Fifty? The odds were in his favor. C.C. wasn’t pregnant. When he returned from California, he planned to visit Grayson and tell him he wasn’t going to get his daughter pregnant—not until he married her.

Six months ago, marriage was the last thing Max wanted, but that was before C.C. Now he wanted her and he wanted a baby with her. Just as soon as he got back from California, he’d ask her to marry him. They could have a short engagement—was three weeks too short?—and exchange vows in front of the marble fountain in the foyer of Grayson’s home.

“When I get back, let’s go see your father. I want to show him our plans. And give him our news.”

“Are we going to tell him about us?”

The uncertainty in her voice surprised him. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t want Dad to be overcritical. He’s a tough negotiator and he might not like you using his daughter as a fringe benefit.”

“A fringe benefit? For whom? Me or you?”

She smacked his arm. “Be serious. We’ve done a great job and I want the merits of the project to be judged without bias.”

What would she do if she knew Grayson’s true motives behind the deal and Max’s involvement in it? The thought twisted his gut.

“I don’t think we should tell him, Max. Not until the project is finished.” She kissed his mouth. “Okay?”

“But as soon as it’s finished, we’re coming clean.” He couldn’t stand the lie any longer.

“Deal.”

“Speaking of deal, Rhyder’s still upset over the drawing changes. He said there’s no way Roxie made them, that she wouldn’t know how to draw a straight line much less change the angles on the building.”

“She made the changes. She must have done it last weekend, when she came over to borrow my scale. I went into the bathroom to get it and when I came out, she was done.”

“How long were you in there? Two hours?”

“Two minutes, tops.”

“You’re telling me that woman with the red hair and a gazillion piercings in her ears figured it out in less time than a roomful of architects could?”

“Uh-huh.”

“C.C.—”

“Uh, Max, there’s something I should tell you about Roxie.”

***

The phone call came the day after Max left. Candace was in Chicago shopping along the Magnificent Mile for a perfect wedding gift for Grayson, so mum’s the word, and she wondered if Catherine could meet for lunch. Or dinner, anything so they could spend time together and get better acquainted.

They settled on dinner at a trendy bistro off Michigan Avenue that specialized in wraps and sushi. When Candace walked into the bistro, C.C. didn’t miss the woman’s forceful strides or grim expression.

The woman had come with a purpose that had nothing to do with a wedding gift for her future husband.

“Catherine,” she said as she leaned forward to kiss C.C.’s cheek. “Thank you so much for making the time to see me. Your father says you’ve been swamped.”

“Yes, I’ve been busy.” C.C. twisted her hands beneath the table and wished for a calming bite of cookie.

Candace shrugged out of her suede jacket and slid into the wrought iron chair. Her knit dress clung to her body in a swish of soft cream, the perfect fantasy for any breathing male under ninety-nine. “You look different, Catherine.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Her future mother-in-law smiled. “Very good. I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

“Thank you.” Candace was so beautiful. Did Max wish, even for a half second, that C.C. looked more like her?

Candace crossed her legs and C.C. tried not to notice how the dress shimmied up her thighs, gathering the attention of the men next to them, men on the short side of twenty-five. Candace smiled and dismissed them with a flounce of black hair. “Your father says you’re quite taken with Max.”

Bam!
C.C. hadn’t expected that.

“It’s okay,” Candace said, as though trying to be reassuring. “Not many women can resist Max. He has a way about him, a boyish charm mixed with one look from those baby blue eyes, that make the female population do some amazingly stupid things.” She lifted a slender hand. “I will be the first to admit I was one of those women.”

C.C. did not want to hear this.

Candace touched C.C.’s hand and said, “Your father told me all about the unfortunate situation a few years ago. There’s no way you could have known the man was married.”

If the words before had been unwelcome, these were a sucker punch. The restaurant closed in on C.C., the noise escalating as the words slurred. She rubbed her temples and blinked hard.

“Catherine? Are you all right?”

C.C. reached for her glass of water and took a long drink. “I’d really rather not talk about that.”

“Of course. I understand.” Candace fingered her water goblet with a fuchsia nail. “Shopping for your father’s wedding gift was only part of the reason for this visit.” She met C.C.’s gaze and held it. “I don’t want to see you make the same mistake again.”

“Why would I?” she asked in a cautious voice.

Candace’s eyes misted. “Because Max is using you to get the deal with your father.”

C.C. let out a breath of relief. Candace was wrong. “That’s absurd. He already had the deal before he knew who I was.”

“Exactly. But what if he wasn’t the one making the deal? What if he was the one
agreeing
to the deal?”

“What are you saying?”

“Your father knows how much you wanted a baby and he’s determined to get you one.”

“What are you talking about?” And what did this have to do with Max?

“Max made a deal with your father. The development for a baby. I learned about it a few nights ago and knew I had to tell you.”

“Dad wouldn’t. And Max would never agree to that.”

“Your father did,” Candace said softly, “and so did Max. I think your father believed he was helping. And Max—” she sighed and shook her head, “—I just don’t know what he was thinking.”

Her father had lied to her? Max only made love to her to fulfill a deal? But what about the condoms, she wanted to yell. Why would he wear them if he were trying to get her pregnant? The answer blared at her; he wanted to gain her trust and thought there would be many more opportunities to conveniently forget a condom. He’d been diligent with those damn things, she’d give him that. He’d only slipped up twice.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Candace handed her a tissue and said, “Please don’t cry.” C.C. wiped her eyes but fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, along her chin, faster than she could swipe at them.

“I’m so sorry, Catherine. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

C.C. sniffed and blotted her eyes. “I needed to know.”

Sincerity coated Candace’s next words. “I hated deceiving your father, and he might not forgive me, but I had to tell you.”

“You did the right thing. Thank you.” C.C.’s attempt at a smile wobbled.

Candace swiped a hand across her own cheek “What will you do now?”

C.C. balled the Kleenex in her hand until it was a tiny wad. “I’m going to give them both exactly what they deserve.”

***

Max snatched his suitcase off the baggage claim belt and headed for the exit doors. He’d half hoped C.C. would surprise him at baggage claim. It had been a long week and the brief phone conversations ratcheted up his desire to see her again.

The meetings had gone well and they had a good chance of bidding on a similar project to this one outside of Los Angeles. But even the exhilaration of moving one step closer to realizing his dream could not compare with his desire to see C.C. again. He wanted her in his arms, in bed, naked.

He clutched the bag of triple chocolate cookies in his hand. Only a crazy man would travel two thousand miles with a bag of cookies. Crazy in love, that’s what he was. Who could blame him? C.C. was honest and vulnerable, smart and sexy. Max patted his trouser pocket, making sure the velvet box was still there.

Tonight he’d ask her to marry him.

He considered stopping by her place on his way home from the airport but decided to wait. He wanted everything to be perfect tonight and he’d start with leaving the condoms in the box.

Max arrived at C.C.’s at seven o’clock carrying a bottle of Dom Perignon, a dozen red roses, and a bag of cookies with the velvet box containing a two carat diamond solitaire hidden inside. Maybe he should have bought her pink roses, or the purple ones so many women went crazy over. But didn’t red mean love? Damn, he should’ve bought all of them.

He rang the bell and wondered if she’d have on the see-through red bra and panties. Or none. Now that had definite possibilities.

C.C. opened the door in sweats—the perfect cover for total nakedness. “Hi, baby.” He moved toward her. “It’s been a long five days.” He set the gifts on a table, lifted her in his arms, and twirled her around. “I missed you too damn much. Miss me?”

He bent to kiss her but she turned away and he grazed the side of her cheek. “Of course I missed you.” The words slid through her teeth. “But that was your goal, wasn’t it?”

“What’s wrong?” He loosened his hold and she stepped back as though the last place she wanted to be was in his arms.

“Should there be something wrong?”

What was going on? “Anytime a woman asked a question like that, it damn well meant there was a lot wrong.” He grabbed the roses. “Here. These are for you.”

“Thank you.” She made no move to take them.

“And these.” He snatched the bag of cookies and thrust it at her. Those she took. And tossed them on the chair.

“What’s gotten into you?” This was the part of a long-term relationship he didn’t miss—the guessing and the games.

“Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.

She was doing that little thing with her jaw she did when she was annoyed. Max found himself doing the same thing. He clamped his mouth shut and waited.

Even angry, which she obviously was, she looked beautiful.

He gave out first. “Okay, this is not the reunion I’d planned.”

She cocked her head and lifted a brow. “No?”

“No.” Spurts of anger shot through him, dripping into his brain. “I thought we’d share something a bit more intimate,” he snapped.

“Would you like me to take off my clothes?” She tightened her arms around her middle.

He’d need the Jaws of Life to ply those hands away. “You know, why don’t I walk outside and we’ll just start over? Okay?”

Pain flashed across her face and then it was gone, replaced with tight lips, flaring nostrils, and a narrowed gaze that blocked out any emotion. “I think you should just go.”

“Go? Go where?”

Another head shake. “My plan was to make you angry enough you’d walk out, but that’s not fair. It’s not honest either. There’s no easy way to say this, except to come right out with it.” She met his gaze and her honey brown eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Max. I’m really sorry, but it’s over.”

The words made no sense, not to him, not when he refused to process the sound.

“I never meant to hurt you. It just happened.”

“Over? You mean us?”

She looked away.

Max shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from punching something—the wall, the door, his head. Of all the women who’d chased him, he’d fallen for one who didn’t want him. How ironic was that? Still, he couldn’t accept it. “I don’t understand.”

“Please, don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

Hadn’t he said those same words to dozens of women? Now he knew what it felt like to get burned. “Difficult for whom? Me or you?”

“Both of us. It serves no purpose.”

He glanced at the chair with the gifts he’d brought. “Hmmmm.” He took a few steps inside her condo. It looked the same as it had five days ago. The plum pillows stacked on the cream sofa, the glossy
Chicago Metro
edition on the glass coffee table, the potted Norfolk Pine in the corner. Yet everything was different now. “Was it something I did, sexually?” He wanted to remind her of every intimacy they’d shared. Several times. Sex had not been the problem—let her try to deny that.

She flushed the deep red of the roses he’d brought to celebrate the future he thought they had together. “No, it wasn’t that.”

“Well, at least my virility isn’t in question. What then, C.C.? I didn’t call you enough? I called you too much? I left the toilet seat up once or twice?” His anger escalated, but he couldn’t stop now. She was going to tell him so he could talk some sense into her.

“Max.”

He couldn’t lose her now. “I look at you and I see a beautiful woman I want to be with.”

She turned away. “Please don’t.”

She almost sounded like the C.C. he’d left behind five days ago, with that soft breathiness she used when she got emotional. Or when she exploded with passion. That he remembered very well. In detail. “Help me out here. Just tell me the truth.” He couldn’t lose her.