#Babymaker (Baby Crazy 2)

So despite his promise of a luxurious life, I had to say no. For my self-esteem, my self-dignity, and my sense of identity, it was important to reject his offer and find my own way. It wasn’t going to be easy and I envisioned at least a couple more years of eating ramen in my ramshackle studio. But at least it was better than selling my soul to the devil, right?

At least I hoped so. Because as the elevator whooshed me up to the penthouse apartment, I started getting doubts. My heart pumped furiously, the air suddenly hard to breathe. New York City is a notoriously difficult place to earn a living, and maybe I could use some help. Maybe we could work out a deal of some sorts?

But no, this was wrong. Everything Dr. Roman had suggested was off the charts crazy, and I had to keep my head on straight. So when the doors hissed open, I stepped into the hallway and straightened my shoulders, taking a deep breath. I was here to throw egg on his face, and my morals weren’t going to slip just because he was physically irresistable.

Brrring!

The chime rang and I steadied myself once more. It’s going to be okay, the voice in my head soothed. He’s just a man, after all.

But when the door opened, all thought flew out of my mind. Because oh god, but Dr. Roman was so handsome. Dressed casually in dark jeans and a black sweater, my mouth watered at the breadth of those shoulders. His black hair was brushed raffishly off his forehead, and bit of stubble graced his cheekbones.

Keep it steady, the voice in my head admonished. Don’t go crazy just because he’s a heavenly slice of man meat.

But I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding and my smile was weak.

“Hi,” I stammered. “Can I come in?”

A black brow arched, but he didn’t look surprised to see me at all, despite the fact that it was so late. With one smooth move, the man opened the door and stepped away, allowing me to enter his residence.

And I almost came to an abrupt stop then because his apartment was magnificent. A vaulted ceiling graced the living room, with a glittering chandelier positioned perfectly in the center. Floor to ceiling windows showed off moonlight glinting off the Hudson River, and white leather furniture was sprinkled about, spotless and pristine. What a change from the second hand used stuff in my apartment that I’d picked up on-sale from Goodwill.

“Oh, nice place,” I said breathily. This would never do, so I steadied my voice and spoke again. “What a gorgeous apartment.”

“Thanks,” rumbled Chase, those blue eyes glinting. “I did it myself.”

My mouth opened in surprise.

“Really? You picked out all the decorations? Wow, that’s amazing.”

He grinned while lowering himself onto a white loveseat.

“Yep,” came that lazy drawl. “Now that I have my own practice, I have a lot more free time, so I’ve used it to good purpose. Instead of paying a designer thousands of dollars to decorate a place that they’ll never live in, instead I decided to do it myself. So this is what you get,” he said, gesturing to the lavish layout. “Although I have to say, it wasn’t that hard. When you have an apartment with good bones, just about anything looks amazing.”

I swallowed heavily, looking around again. Through an arched doorway, I could see a fancy chef’s kitchen with oak cupboards and what looked like a giant sub-zero refrigerator. Through another arch, I glimpsed a formal dining room with a mahogany table and seating for a dozen guests. It was incredible. In NYC, most people live in postage-stamp sized apartments, and don’t even have room for a dining table. We eat with our plates in our laps in front of the TV most nights.

So clearly, Dr. Roman hadn’t been exaggerating when he mentioned his wealth. But I could see it more clearly now, from the priceless view through the windows to the paintings artfully arranged on the walls. Each one probably cost thousands of dollars, come to think about it.

But I couldn’t get carried away. I was on a mission, so I sat gingerly on one of the white couches, placing my purse beside me.

“I’m here to talk with you about your offer,” came my stiff voice.

“Ah yes,” drawled Dr. Roman, unfolding his big frame to stride to the kitchen for a moment. “I have a wine fridge in here,” he called out. “Can I offer you something? A red or a white?”

I swallowed. Maybe some alcohol would bolster my courage so I nodded.

“Yes please,” came my mewling voice. “A red would be great.”

And in a moment, Dr. Roman reappeared with two wine glasses filled with deep, burgundy wine. Oh wow. This had to be the expensive stuff because as he moved, it swirled gracefully.