Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(101)

“That’s not…exactly true.”

“It is true. And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.” Her arms started to flail. “You’re making me crazy, and I can’t take it anymore. You’re fired, Mr. Champion. This time I’m firing you.”

It was an impressive display of temper, so he proceeded cautiously. “I’m a client,” he pointed out. “You can’t fire me.”

She bored into him with those honey eyes. “I just did.”

“In my defense, I had good intentions.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the jeweler’s box. “I was planning to propose last night. We were at Charlie Trotter’s. The food was great, the mood perfect, and I had the ring. But just as I got ready to give it to her…you called.”

He paused and let her draw her own conclusions, which she, being female, was quick to do.

“Oh, my God. It was me. I’m responsible.”

A good agent always shifted the blame, but as her consternation grew, he knew he had to come clean. “Your phone call wasn’t the real problem. I’d been trying to give her the ring all evening, but I couldn’t seem to get it out of my pocket. That’s got to tell you something right there.”

By putting the blame where it belonged, he set her off again. “Nobody’s right for you! I swear, you’d find something wrong with the Virgin Mary.” She snatched the ring box from him, flipped it open, and curled her lip. “This was the best you could do? You’re a multimillionaire!”

“Exactly!” If he’d needed any more proof that Annabelle Granger was a woman in a million, this was it. “Don’t you see? She likes everything subtle. If I’d chosen anything bigger, she’d have been embarrassed. I hate that ring. Imagine how the guys would react if they saw a puny rock like that on my wife’s finger.”

She snapped the lid shut and shoved the box back into his hand. “You’re still fired.”

“I understand.” He slipped it into his pocket, took a last swig of coffee, and headed for the door.

“I think it’ll be better for both of us if we cut if off right here.”

He hoped that tremor he heard in her voice wasn’t all in his imagination. “Do you now?” The urge to kiss away her outrage nearly overwhelmed him. But while short-term gratification was tempting, he needed to focus on the long term, so he merely smiled and left her alone.

Outside, the morning air held the crisp smoky scent of autumn. He breathed it in and, with a light step, headed down the street to his car. Watching her with the men last night had opened his eyes to something he should have realized weeks ago. Annabelle Granger was his perfect match.





Chapter Twenty-one




Ever since the day Annabelle had walked into Heath’s office, her life had been a Ferris wheel spinning at triple speed. She’d soar to the top, hang there for a few blissful seconds, then take a stomach-turning plummet to the bottom. As she got ready for her birthday party, she told herself she was glad she’d fired him. He was crazy. Even worse, he’d made her crazy. At least tonight she wouldn’t have time to think about him. Instead, she’d be making sure her family saw her as she was, no longer a failure but an almost-successful, just-turned-thirty-two-year-old businesswoman who didn’t need anybody’s advice or pity. Perfect for You might not be a candidate for the Fortune 500, but at least it was finally turning a profit.

She screwed the top back on a tube of lip gloss and headed across the hall from the bathroom to the full-length mirror in Nana’s bedroom. She liked what she saw. Her cocktail dress, a long-sleeved A-line, had been a splurge, but she didn’t regret a penny. The flattering off-the-shoulder neckline made her neck look long and graceful, as well as dramatizing her face and hair. She could have chosen the dress in safe, conservative black, but she’d opted for peach instead. She loved the dramatic juxtaposition of the soft pastel with her red hair, which was behaving perfectly for a change, floating around her face in a pretty tousle and providing peekaboo glimpses of a delicate pair of lacy gold chandeliers. Her buttercream stilettos gave her a few extra inches of height, but not nearly as much stature as the man on her arm would provide.

“You’re bringing a date?” Kate’s astonishment over breakfast at her parents’ hotel that morning still grated, but Annabelle had held her tongue. While Dean’s relative youth might work against her, the Grangers were huge football fans. With the exception of Candace, the family had followed the Stars for years, and she could only hope that Dean’s status would compensate for his youth and diamond studs.

She took one last look at her reflection. Candace would be wearing Max Mara, but so what? Her sister-in-law was an insecure, social-climbing dork. Annabelle wished Doug had brought Jamison instead, but her nephew was home in California with a nanny. Annabelle glanced at her watch. Her trophy date wouldn’t be picking her up for another twenty minutes. Before Dean had agreed to do this, she’d had to promise to be at his beck and call for the rest of her natural life, but it would be worth it.

As she headed downstairs, she grew uncomfortably aware that there was something pathetic about a now thirty-two-year-old woman still trying to earn her family’s approval. Maybe when she was forty she’d have gotten past this. Or maybe not. Face it, she had reason to be apprehensive. The last time she’d been with her family, they’d staged an intervention.