The Marriage Bargain (26 page)

Roxanne’s four-year-old son ran across the set and climbed into a chair that had been strategically placed between talk show host and guest.

Frankie looked at Roxanne for direction.

“Hi, sweetie.” Roxanne smiled at the boy. “This is Ms. Weber and she wants to talk to you.”

Frankie turned to Lauren and waited for her to say something.

“Frankie,” Lauren’s tone, drenched in gentle persuasion, placed additional emphasis on his name. “Is there anyone out there in TV land that you’d like to say hello to?”

Frankie nodded.

Lauren pointed off to the right. “Just look into the camera over there, and say whatever you want.”

Frankie peered into the camera and waved. “Hi, Aunt Candy. I’m on TV.” His upper lip twitched slightly to one side—a trait all too familiar for Roxanne.

Lauren smiled. “And what a lovely child he is. I’d say there’s a striking resemblance.” She paused. “Wouldn’t you?” She topped off her declaration with a triumphant stare straight into the eye of the camera.

The damage was done. Anybody with eyes could see that Lauren wasn’t speaking of any resemblance between mother and child. Frankie’s locks, curly and black, were far from Roxanne’s straight chestnut-brown hair. Nothing about his piercing baby blues resembled her unusual eyes shaded the color of purple violets. No, it was clear—Frankie didn’t resemble Roxanne at all.

A
fter filming the show, Roxanne and Frankie went home to their apartment overlooking Central Park. Candy had left for Florida the day before, at Roxanne’s insistence, and now Roxanne was wondering what she’d been thinking.

Heading to Florida—a place she hadn’t been in five years—wasn’t Roxanne’s idea. If she’d had her way, she would have chosen to never step foot in the place again. But Jerry, her psychiatrist, had said she’d never be free of her demons if she didn’t face them. And that meant returning to Florida for an extended stay.

Well, at least she could nip this Lauren Weber fiasco in the butt before she left. Sure, Lauren’s audience had seen Frankie, but if Roxanne could keep the whole of America from getting a firsthand look, she had to try.

Inside her bedroom, Roxanne carelessly tossed clothing inside her suitcase while holding the telephone against her ear with her shoulder. “I do not want it aired.”

“They won’t go for it,” Walt said with a measure of regret in his tone. “What they’ve got is too hot.”

“Well, threaten them then.” She cradled the receiver in her hand while various scenarios, all of them revenge oriented and involving Frank, wrecked havoc in her mind. “Tell them they’ll never get another interview from anyone even remotely associated with Simon Productions. Ever again.”

“Roxanne, I tried. They don’t care.” His words were kind, and draped in a compassionate tone, but they missed the mark. “It’s going to air in a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks...?” Nothing could lessen that blow. “Why so soon?”

“Rox…” Walt said. “They aren’t going to let this one sit on the back burner. Just go on to Florida and let the whole thing blow over.”

Blow up, is more like it
. “Okay,” she agreed in a defeated tone and slammed the phone down, staring at it. Lauren Weber had managed to turn her world upside-down. “Bitch.”

A Few Days Later

Florida

Roxanne’s red Porsche sailed smoothly down the highway. With the convertible top down, her hair flew recklessly around her head and she’d reach up from time to time to push it out of her face.

Approaching Tampa, she wondered if she could pick up Y-95, an old radio station favorite. Adjusting the dials, instantly the hard-rocking sounds of the J Geils Band poured out through the speakers. As the band serenaded her with their wit about how much
Love Stinks
, she said softly, “Boy, does it ever.” Roxanne snuck a peek at Frankie sleeping in the passenger seat, and fought the temptation to turn up the volume.

Ten minutes later, she passed a sign reading:
Welcome to Tampa
. A familiar excitement stirred within her. Yesterday, returning to Florida was the last thing she wanted. But now, surprisingly, coming home felt good. Of course, the new house probably had a little something to do with that. She’d never laid eyes on it, outside of photographs, but she already loved it.

After Jerry had convinced her she needed to go back, for her own sanity, she’d been so scared that Frank was going to magically appear from out of nowhere that she bought the house through a service. She knew the floor plan inside and out, even though she’d never stepped foot inside the place.

At the intersection of Busch and Armenia, Roxanne waited for the traffic light to turn green. No matter how good finally coming home felt, it had little effect on her mounting dread. If Frank saw that show, or heard about it, he’d find her no matter where she was. She could only hope this would be the last place he’d look.

Roxanne pulled her car into the semicircle driveway, parking behind Candy’s black Targa. She climbed out of the car and neither the humidity nor the heat dissuaded her as she went to the passenger side and gathered Frankie, who was still sleeping, into her arms.

She headed toward the front door of the two-story, wood-trimmed house that she found as appealing now as she had when she’d seen it in the photographs. It looked even more inviting, if that was possible, nestled amongst the tropical trees and plants. Once at the door, she couldn’t get to her keys and decided to lean on the doorbell.

The door opened promptly. “Hi, Jameson.” She felt a measure of comfort, seeing half the husband and wife team that’d been in her employ since shortly after Frankie’s birth.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Roxanne,” Jameson said in a well-educated accent. “Shall I take him?”

“Yes, please.” She passed Frankie off to him. “Have Rose put him to bed,” she said of Jameson’s wife.

“Ms. Candy is out by the pool.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a smile, and then darted through the house and out into the back yard.

Candy was bikini-clad and laid out in a poolside lounge chair, soaking up the sun. The tropical heat washed over Roxanne in a thick wave of sweltering moisture as she dropped into a nearby chair. She’d nearly forgotten how uncomfortable Florida’s humidity could be. She wondered if Candy was asleep and cleared her throat.

Candy’s eyes opened behind her Sun Clouds. After a moment, she asked, “How’d the interview go?”

An unpleasant feeling devoured Roxanne. Reluctantly, she admitted, “Not well.”

“So what happened?”

“All she wanted to talk about was Garrett-Hollander.” Roxanne tried to show as little emotion as possible, even to Candy.

Candy tipped her sunglasses up and propped them her forehead. “That was the subject?”

In the background, one of Garrett-Hollander’s songs poured from the radio sitting on the ground at Candy’s side. Since Roxanne’s unexplained disappearance from Frank’s life five years ago, he’d written many songs about her. Some indicated his hatred for her, while others simply begged her to come back. There were also songs alleging that she’d been a hooker. It was one of those songs that played on Candy’s radio now.

…I played the fool

I trusted her

But she let me down

Cause while I was away

Roxanne was out selling herself

All over town…

“I’m surprised she didn’t ask me about that damn song.” Roxanne hated that song and she cursed Frank for writing it. To hear him tell it, she’d been out prostituting herself just because she could. It hadn’t been that way at all and it pissed her off that Frank would suggest as much.

“So tell me what happened?” Candy flashed Roxanne an eager smile. She loved gossip. Especially when it involved the two of them.

“Well, to make a long story short—” Roxanne hesitated. “She asked me point blank if Frank Garrett was the father of my son.”

“No...” Candy’s disbelief lit in her emerald eyes, brightening them. “What’d you say?”

“Well, I denied it of course, but the bitch wouldn’t give up.” She paused long enough to get a hold on her frustration. “She even conned me into bringing Frankie out on the set.”

“During taping?” Candy’s voice shook.

“Oh, yes. And she commented on the resemblance too.” Roxanne reacted like an injured puppy. “And she wasn’t talking about me and Frankie.”

“Oh, wow.”

“If he sees that show…” Roxanne’s voice trailed off as she thought about Frank. Quickly though, she regained her composure and added, “I hate to think of the consequences.”

“Frank’s in his own little world,” Candy said. “The last thing he’s got time for is to keep up with you.”

“Yeah, right.” Roxanne’s disbelief escaped in her laughter.

Candy didn’t speak right away. The silence was deafening. “Did you know their first album was a flop?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “When their second album came out, it did so well that people went out and bought the first one too.”

“They have two albums?” Roxanne asked innocently.

Candy raked an admonishing glare over Roxanne. “They have three, which is my point exactly,” she said, as if she knew Roxanne had chosen to play dumb. Uh oh. That meant the lecture was coming. “It hasn’t been your concern to keep up with him, so why should he have gone to so much trouble to keep up with you?”

“Okay, so maybe you’re right.” Roxanne wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight. “But if what you say is true…then why do you know so much about them?”

Candy ignored her question. “You do have reason to be concerned, though.”

“How so?”

“If Frank does see that show...you’re dead meat.” She slid her sunglasses down over her eyes and sank back into the lounge chair.

“That’s very comforting Can…” Roxanne’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to think about what might happen. Nothing good could come from that.

“Face the facts,” Candy said, “Frankie is a walking, talking replica of Frank, you know.” Her undesirable words surrounded Roxanne like a fine mist. “I know you had your reasons for running away from him.” Compassion filled her tone, yet if offered little comfort. “But you better realize…it might be time to pay the piper.”

R
oxanne went upstairs to take a long, hot bubble bath. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she poured bath oil into the stream of running water. She sat there almost in a trance, watching the tub fill and the bubbles grow. Satisfied with the water level, she got undressed and stepped in. She slid down through the bubbles, into the comfort of the water, feeling confident it would soothe her soul and make her troubles disappear.

Why? Why was this happening now? Especially after all this time. Everything had been going so well, too. But now the bottom was about to fall out.

Why did it always come back to Frank Garrett? Roxanne tried to put him out of her mind, just as she’d tried to do so many times before. But somehow, he managed to keep sneaking back into her thoughts. A long time ago, she thought running away would solve her problems. She thought running away would set her free. Free from Frank. Now she realized she’d been mistaken.

It seemed her past was about to come back to haunt her. She knew she wasn’t up to facing Frank. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for that. In Roxanne’s mind she had done nothing but love Frank. She’d only tried to help him, and in return he’d let her down. Once again, he’d doubted her before giving her the opportunity to explain. And he’d promised he would never do that again.

Roxanne wanted desperately to be able to go back. Back to the beginning. Back when things were fine. Back before the hatred. Back when there was only love.

As the water rocked back and forth, time began to rock back and forth as well, until Roxanne had no concept of time at all. And once again, she had no idea what was the past and what was the present….

**I hope you enjoyed this preview of
Crazy For You
. If you
’
d like to read the book in its entirety, it
’
s available at
Amazon
,
Barnes & Noble
and other online outlets. Please turn the page for an excerpt of
The Wedding Wager
by Regina Duke.**

THE WEDDING WAGER

by

Regina Duke

CHAPTER ONE

June 1

“THAT’S INSANE! HE CAN’T DO THAT.”

Krystal Fineman Wake clutched the handset of her bedside phone until her knuckles whitened and slumped against her pillows. The outburst had cost her. For a moment, she concentrated on breathing. Then she continued.

“That property came down from my great-grandfather.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” said Zach, “but as ranch foreman I figured it was my duty to let you know the scuttlebutt, even if it was bad news.”

Krystal knew that in this day and age, Colorado was not that far from New York, but her old phone made him sound like he was calling from a different planet instead of a different state.

“Thank you, Zach. My husband seems determined to squander my legacy and deprive my children of their rightful due.” She paused again for breath.

Zach broke the awkward silence. “I hope you feel better soon, ma’am.”

“Me, too. Meanwhile, get the house ready. I’m bringing the children out right away. I’ve had enough of New York City. It breeds deception.”

“Yes, ma’am. Everyone here will be happy to know you’re coming. Er, all of’em? Even Kevin?”

“I’m not sure how, but yes, even Kevin. Especially Kevin. The only way to save the ranch is to have my children fall in love with it, so we’d better act fast. I always suspected that if I died before him, my husband intended to sell it. But I had an ace in the hole. Or I thought I did.”

“You mean the trust?”

“Yes. In the early 1900s, young men routinely married early, and the requirement that the male heir be wed before inheriting on his twenty-fifth birthday was not considered a hardship. I’m sure my parents never expected the day would come when a young man would prefer to live single. If he did, then he was clearly, in their minds, not responsible enough to manage the family fortune.” Her voice turned bitter. “They meddled in my personal life, too. And look who I ended up with.” She paused again to breathe. “Sorry, Zach. I’m rambling. You get the house ready. I have some phone calls to make.”