A Taste Of Desire. Chloe Blake
“South America Brazil? I thought you were in Paris?”
“Um, that was yesterday.”
“This is why you don’t have a man.”
Nicole jerked her neck back. “Oh, really, Dr. Love? When was the last time you got roses on Valentine’s Day? And if traveling is a direct correlation to being single, then what’s your excuse? You haven’t left the country—no wait, you haven’t left New York—since you got your PhD which was...let me think... Y2K.” Nicole smiled when Liz let out a loud breath.
“I didn’t call you to throw shade around. Dani needs us.”
Nicole sobered. “Why? What happened?”
“Remember that Tinder date she had the other night?”
“Yeah. The guy with the four cats?” Nicole rolled her eyes. She commended Dani for continuing to put herself out there on those dating apps, but she had to stop meeting up with every guy who threw her a wink.
“He sent her a two-page email saying she’s everything he’s looking for in a woman, except for her weight, and wondered if she was interested in transforming herself. He sent her some basic workout tips and offered to pay for a trainer.”
“Oh, my God,” Nicole sneered. “Who does this cat-hoarding awful man think he is? Dani is beautiful and voluptuous. What is wrong with people?”
“I don’t know, but I am so over men.”
“Ditto.” Nicole exhaled. “No one has ever offered to pay for my trainer.”
There had been a few significant men in Nicole’s life, but none had stuck it out for the long haul. Her last relationship ended when her ex suggested that no man wanted a woman who worked as much as she did. Yet he hadn’t been spouting that nonsense when she had treated him to a couples spa weekend in Indonesia for his birthday. Jerk.
Sure, she used to want the fairy tale—man, dog, kids—but the more she unsuccessfully dated and the older she got, the farther away that dream started to float. It was time for a new plan.
“Liz, please tell me she isn’t devastated.”
“No, just feeling hopeless. I called because I wanted us to take her out, get her mind off of it. What are you doing in Brazil?”
“Getting ready to sell a burnt-down winery to the highest American bidder. The owner is only in his thirties, but we’re talking serious old money.”
“Mmm. Is he single?”
“He’s French, so it probably doesn’t matter. Regardless, I don’t date clients. From his dossier he sounds like a trust-fund baby who is no doubt bristling at the fact that I’m a woman.”
“Wait till he sees you negotiate.”
“Damn right.” Nicole watched her floor number light up. “Okay, I gotta go.”
“Wait! What happened at the adoption agency?”
Nicole groaned. “They denied me.”
“I was afraid of that, Nicole.”
“I know, Liz. You’ve made your position clear. Could you slip out of shrink mode for one second and be the supportive friend that I’ve known for eight years?”
The elevator doors opened, and Nicole was relieved that it was empty. She held it for a brief second as Liz continued.
“Look, you know I think you deserve to have a child, but your lifestyle is not attractive to adoption agencies or parents choosing adoptive parents.”
“Well, that’s what they said.”
“What else did they say?”
“That a nanny was not a full-time parent.”
Liz chuckled. “Did you give them the au pair speech?”
“Don’t laugh. They were not impressed. But, honestly, what better way for a kid to learn a second language?”
“Nicole, if you’ve really decided to go this route, maybe you should think about insemination.”
“Oh, God, I cannot get pregnant.”
“Why? You’re only thirty-five. Women are having babies in their fifties these days.”
“I travel too much.”
“See—you don’t know what you want.”
“Yes, I do!” Afraid they’d get cut off if she stepped in, Nicole slapped her hand against the closing elevator door, pushing it open. “I want a kid and I’m done waiting around for Prince Charming, because he doesn’t exist!”
Liz sucked her teeth. “I might agree with you on that last statement, but I think you’re being hasty.”
“Well, I’m not. When this deal is done, I’ll get my promotion and I won’t be on the road as much. Plus, I’ll be able to afford a nanny and a rent-a-husband. We’ll discuss later. Kiss Dani for me, and tell her I’ll give her a call.”
Nicole hung up and stepped into the elevator, pulling up the email she’d gotten from the Live to Love adoption agency a few days ago.
Dear Miss Parks,
We are thrilled that you are interested in adopting a child, and thank you for taking the steps to ensure your eligibility. The Greens want you to know that they so enjoyed meeting you and feel that you are a strong candidate as an adoptive parent. Unfortunately, the couple had some concerns about your work schedule, and although you can afford excellent childcare, they have decided to wait for a two-parent home.
Please don’t get discouraged. Your child is out there.
As if being single wasn’t stigma enough, now young parents were rejecting her. She had a stable job and a killer résumé. What more could she do to make herself a desirable single parent? The agency had suggested that Nicole look into family homes located close to good schools—apparently parents liked that. The three-bedroom Brooklyn house she had been eyeing was still on the market, but she needed some more time to get the down payment together.
But that was before Brazil landed in her lap. She guessed that she could have that deal closed in a few weeks. Then that home and her mini-me, with their live-in French au pair, would be a reality.
Her fairy tale could come true.
The bell dinged, and Nicole strutted out of the elevator.
“Good evening Miss Parks, we are so glad you’ll be joining us for dinner.”
“Thank you, Anton,” she said, recognizing the tall, slim general manager who’d facilitated her hotel check-in hours earlier. Next to him, a hostess smiled. “So am I.”
“Monsieur Dechamps hasn’t arrived yet, but we’ll be happy to seat you, or would you join us at the bar for a complimentary glass of wine while you wait?”
“Say no more, Anton. The bar it is.”
“Please follow me.”
She heard the dull roar of a packed house and smelled sweet cigars before she even stepped inside the restaurant. The dining room was elegant, with dark wood accents, bistro tables and an oversized bar. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed patrons to enjoy the busy streets and the boisterous Brazilian nightlife.
Anton helped Nicole onto an empty bar stool near others waiting for their tables, then signaled for the bartender. He half bowed. “I hope your suite is satisfactory?”
“It’s very comfortable. And the champagne basket is lovely. Thank you.”
“Our pleasure.” He gestured toward the barkeep. “Rafe will take care of you. I’ll be back to seat you when Monsieur Dechamps arrives.”
After perusing the wine list she chose