Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(46)

He wasn’t stupid. “I know I’m not exactly Mr. Buff myself, but I work out.”

Annabelle fought the urge to reach across the table and smack him in the head. Still, this type of challenge was part of what she liked about being a matchmaker. “You usually date thin women, then?”

“They don’t have to be beauty queens, but the women I’ve dated have been pretty nice looking.”

Annabelle pretended to look thoughtful. “I’m a little confused. When we first talked, you gave me the impression that you hadn’t dated in a long time.”

“Well, I haven’t, but…”

She let him squirm for a few moments. A kid with multiple piercings passed their table followed by a pair of soccer moms. “So this weight thing is really important to you? More important than personality or intelligence?”

He looked as if she’d asked a trick question. “I just had somebody a little …different in mind.”

And don’t we all? Annabelle thought. The Fourth of July weekend was coming up, and she had no date, no prospects for a date, and no plans beyond starting her exercise program again and trying not to brood about the Wind Lake book club retreat. Ray fiddled with his spoon, and her annoyance with him faded. He was a decent guy, just clueless.

“Maybe you’re not a love match,” she said, “but I’ll tell you the same thing I told Carole last night when she expressed a few misgivings. You have a common background, and you enjoyed each other’s company. I think that justifies another date, regardless of your current lack of physical attraction. If nothing else, you could end up with a friend.”

A few beats passed before he got it. “What do you mean misgivings? She doesn’t want to see me again?”

“She has a few doubts, just like you do.”

His hand flew to his head. “It’s because of my hair, isn’t it? That’s all women care about. They see a guy who’s losing his hair, and they don’t want to give him the time of day.”

“Women are less influenced by a receding hairline or a few extra pounds than men assume. Do you know what’s most important to women as far as male physical appearance goes?”

“Height? Hey, I’m almost five-ten.”

“Not height. Studies show that good grooming is most important to women. They value cleanliness and neatness more than anything else.” She paused. “And good haircuts are very important to women.”

“She didn’t like my haircut?”

Annabelle gave him a wide smile. “Isn’t that cool? A haircut can be fixed so easily. Here’s the name of a stylist who gives great men’s cuts.” She slid the business card across the table. “You’ve got everything else together, so this will be easy.”

It hadn’t occurred to him that he might be the one getting rejected, and his competitive instincts came into play. By the time they left the coffee shop, he’d begrudgingly agreed to both the haircut and to meeting Carole again. Annabelle told herself she was getting good at this, and she shouldn’t let her mother or her troubles with Heath Champion plant all those seeds of doubt.

She entered Sienna’s in a better mood, but things went to hell quickly. Heath hadn’t arrived, and the De Paul harpist she’d arranged for him to meet called to say she’d cut her leg and was heading for the emergency room. She’d barely hung up before Heath called. “The plane’s late,” he said. “I’m on the ground at O’Hare, but we’re waiting for a gate to open up.”

She told him about the harpist and then, because he sounded tired, suggested he postpone his Power Matches date.

“Tempting, but I’d better not,” he said. “Portia’s really high on this one. A gate’s opening up now, so I shouldn’t be too late. Hold the fort till I get there.”

“All right.”

Annabelle chatted with the bartender until Portia’s candidate arrived. Her eyes widened. No wonder Powers had been enthusiastic. She was the most beautiful woman Annabelle had ever seen…



The next morning Annabelle returned from her semiannual morning run to see Portia Powers standing on her porch. They’d never met, but Annabelle recognized her from her Web site photograph. Only as she came closer, however, did she realize this was the same woman she’d seen standing in front of Sienna’s the night she’d introduced Heath to Barrie. Powers wore a silky black blouse crisscrossed at her small waist, shocking pink slacks, and retro black patent leather heels. Her inky hair was beautifully cut, the kind of hair that moved with the slightest toss of the head, and her skin flawless. As for her body …She obviously only ate on government holidays.

“Don’t you dare pull another trick like you did last night,” Portia said the minute Annabelle’s running shoes hit the porch steps. She oozed the brittle sort of beauty that always made Annabelle feel dumpy, but especially this morning in her baggy shorts and a sweaty orange T-shirt that said BILL’S HEATING AND

COOLING.

“Good morning to you, too.” Annabelle pulled the key from her shorts pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped aside to let Powers enter.

Portia took in the reception area and Annabelle’s office with a single disdainful glance. “Do not ever…ever…take it upon yourself to get rid of one of my candidates before Heath has had a chance to meet her.”