Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(112)

“Oh, yes, you’re the master of logic, all right.” She stepped around the broken glass. “Come on, Heath. Cut the crap. I can’t help you if you won’t tell me the truth about that wall you’ve built around yourself.”

“What is this? Shrink time?”

“Why not? God knows, your secrets are safe with me. It’s not like I have an army of intimate friends waiting to tear them out of me.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to hear about my childhood traumas. Let’s just say that, right around the time I turned fifteen, I figured out my survival depended on making sure I didn’t keep throwing my heart at people. I backslid once, and I paid the price. Do you know what? It’s turned out to be a saner way to live. I recommend it.” He advanced on her. “I also resent like hell your implication that I’m some kind of cold-blooded monster, because I’m not.”

“Is that what you’re hearing? You do have all the classic symptoms.”

“Of what?”

“A man in love, of course.”

He flinched.

“Look at yourself.” Her voice softened, and he thought he heard a note of genuine sympathy. “This isn’t about a deal gone bad. This is about your heart breaking.”

He heard a roaring inside his head.

She walked to the window. Her words drifted back to him muffled, as if she were having a hard time getting them out. “I think…I think this is the way love feels to people like you and me. Threatening and dangerous. We have to be in control, and love takes that away. People like us…We can’t tolerate vulnerability. But despite our best efforts, sooner or later love seems to catch up with us. And then…” She drew a jagged breath. “And then we fall apart.”

He felt like he’d been sucker punched.

Slowly she turned back to him, her head high, silvery tracks running down her bright blue cheeks. “I’m claiming my introduction.”

He heard what she was saying, but the words made no sense.

“You promised Annabelle and me one last introduction. Annabelle used hers up with Delaney Lightfield. Now it’s my turn.”

“You want to introduce me to someone? Now? After you’ve just told me I’m in love with Annabelle?”

“We have a deal.” She swiped at her nose with the sleeve of her trench coat. “You’re the one who outlined the terms, and I have a lovely young woman who’s just what you need. She’s high-spirited and intelligent. She’s also impulsive and a little temperamental, which will keep you interested. Attractive, of course, like all Power Matches candidates. She has this amazing red hair…”

He wasn’t usually so slow on the uptake, and he finally understood. “You want to introduce me to Annabelle?”

“Not want. I will,” she said fiercely. “We have a deal. Your contract doesn’t run out until midnight Tuesday.”

“But—”

“You can’t go any further by yourself. It’s time for a professional to take over.” Just like that, she ran out of steam, and a fresh tear rolled down her cheek. “Annabelle has …She has the breadth of character you lack. She’s the woman who’ll …keep you human. She won’t put up with anything less.” Her chest rose as she drew a long, unsteady breath. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to find her first. I made inquiries. She’s not home.”

The news jolted him. He wanted her tucked safely away in her grandmother’s house. Waiting for him.

The pink seam of Portia’s lips tightened below her damp blue cheeks. “Listen to me, Heath. As soon as you find her, call me. Don’t try to handle this yourself. You need help. Do you understand me? This is my introduction.”

Right now, the only thing he understood was the depth of his own foolishness. He loved Annabelle. Of course he loved her. This explained all these feelings he’d been too frightened to label.

He needed to be alone to think this through. Portia seemed to understand, because she tugged her trench coat closed and left the room. He felt like he’d been hit in the head with a fly ball. He sagged down in the chair and buried his head in his hands.

Portia’s heels clicked on the marble floor in the foyer. He heard her open the front door, and then, unexpectedly, Bodie’s voice.

“Fuck!”





Chapter Twenty-three




Portia fell into Bodie’s arms. Just fell. He wasn’t expecting it, and he stumbled backward. She went with him, wrapped her arms around him, and wouldn’t let him go. Not ever again. This man was solid as a rock.

“Portia?” He gripped her shoulders and pushed her a few inches away so he could study her face.

She gazed up into his horrified eyes. “Everything you said about me was right.”

“I know that, but…” He ran his thumb over her papery blue cheek. “Did you lose a bet or something?”

She rested her head against his chest. “It’s been a really bad couple of months. Could you just hold me?”

“I could do that.” He pulled her close, and they stood like that for a while, surrounded by a pool of light from the copper porch fixtures. “A paintball game gone bad?” he finally asked.

She gripped him tighter. “An acid treatment. It burned so bad. I thought maybe I could …peel away the old me.”