Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(45)

“The cottage for sure,” Heath said. “Apparently Annabelle hasn’t gotten around to mentioning that she ordered me to go with her.”

Annabelle turned to stare at him.

Phoebe’s finger froze in the cake icing. “You’re coming on the retreat?”

Annabelle spotted a small pulse beating at the base of his neck. He loved this. She could expose him with only a few words, but he was an adrenaline junky, and he’d thrown the dice. “I’ve never been able to turn down a bet,” he said. “She thinks I can’t go an entire weekend without my cell.”

“You can barely make it through dinner,” Molly muttered.

“I’ll expect an apology from both of you after I’ve proved exactly how wrong you are.”

Molly’s and Phoebe’s expressions were equally quizzical as they turned to Annabelle. Her wounded pride demanded she punish him. Right now. She deserved her pound of flesh for the cold-blooded way he’d fired her.

An awkward pause fell. He watched her, waited, the pulse at the base of his neck marking the passing seconds.

“He’ll fold.” She forced a smile. “Everybody knows it but him.”

“Interesting.” Molly refrained from saying more, although Annabelle knew she wanted to.

Twenty minutes later, she and Heath were heading back toward the city, the silence in the car as thick as the castle cake’s pink frosting, but not nearly as sweet. He’d done better than she’d expected with the girls. He’d listened respectfully to Hannah’s concerns, and Pippi adored him. Annabelle had been surprised how many times she’d looked over to see him crouched down talking to her.

Heath finally broke the silence. “I’d already made up my mind to rehire you before I heard about the retreat.”

“Oh, I believe you,” she said, using sarcasm to hide her hurt.

“I mean it.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

“Okay, Annabelle. Unload. Get it all out. Everything you’ve been saving up all afternoon.”

“Unloading is the prerogative of equals. Lowly employees like myself pucker their lips and kiss the sweet spot.”

“You were out of line, and you know it. This thing with Phoebe never gets any better. I thought I might be able to change that.”

“Whatever.”

He shot into the left lane. “Do you want me to bow out? I can call Molly in the morning and tell her that something’s come up. Is that what you want me to do?”

“Like I have any choice if I want to keep you as a client.”

“Okay, let me make it easy for you. Regardless of what you decide, you’re rehired. One way or another, our contract still holds.”

She let him see she wasn’t impressed with his offer. “And I can just imagine how cooperative you’d be if I refused to take you on the retreat.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest. Look me in the eye and admit that you didn’t have the slightest intention of rehiring me until you heard about the retreat.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He didn’t look her in the eye, but at least he was being honest. “I wasn’t going to forgive you. And you know why? Because I’m a ruthless son of a bitch.”

“Fine. You can come with me.”



Annabelle spent the next few days feeling pissy. She tried to chalk her mood up to getting her period, but she wasn’t as good at self-deception as she used to be. Heath’s cold-blooded behavior had left her feeling bruised, betrayed, and just plain mad. One mistake, and he’d written her off. If it weren’t for the Wind Lake retreat, she’d never have seen him again. She was totally expendable, another one of his worker bees.

On Tuesday he left a terse voice message. “Portia has someone she wants me to meet at eight-thirty on Thursday evening. Set me up with one of your introductions at eight so we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Finally, she put the anger where it belonged, on her own shoulders. He wasn’t to blame for those sexual images that wanted to burn themselves into her brain when her guard was down. To him, this was business. She was the one who’d let it become personal, and if she forgot that again, she deserved the consequences.

On Thursday evening before she headed to Sienna’s for the next round of introductions, she met her newest client at Earwax. Ray Fiedler had been referred by a relative of one of Nana’s oldest friends, and Annabelle had sent him on his first date the night before with a Loyola faculty member she’d met during her campus cruising. “We had a nice time and everything,” Ray said after they’d settled around one of Earwax’s wooden tables, which was painted like the wheel of a circus wagon, “but Carole’s not really my physical type.”

“How do you mean?” Annabelle drew her eyes away from the ominous beginnings of his comb-over. She knew the answer, but she wanted to make him say it.

“She’s…I mean, she’s a really nice woman. A lot of people don’t get my jokes. It’s just that I like women who are…more fit.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Carole’s a little overweight.”

She took a sip of her cappuccino and studied the red-and-gold wooden dragon on the wall rather than the extra twenty pounds that hung around what used to be Ray Fiedler’s waistline.