Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(49)

She smiled. “Not when they’re having so much fun meeting all those un-specials.”

Dean turned to Bodie. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“She likes you,” Bodie said, “but she thinks you’re immature.”

“I’m sure you’ll grow out of it,” Annabelle said.

Bodie slapped him on the back. “I know it doesn’t happen very often, but it looks like Annabelle’s immune to your movie star face.”

“Then somebody better get her to the eye doctor,” Arté muttered, which made them all laugh.

Dean wheeled his bike off the path and leaned it against a tree while the four of them chatted. Dean asked Arté about Sean, and they talked about the Bears for a while. Then Bodie brought up Dean’s search for an agent. “I hear you’ve been meeting with Jack Riley at IMG.”

“I’m meeting with a lot of people,” Dean replied.

“You should at least hear what Heath has to say. He’s a smart guy.”

“Heath Champion is number one on my do-not-call list. I’ve got enough ways of making Phoebe unhappy.” Dean turned to Annabelle. “How’d you like to come to the beach with me tomorrow?”

She hadn’t seen this coming, and she was stunned. Also suspicious. “Why?”

“Can I be honest?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“I need protection.”

“From overtanning?”

“Nope.” He flashed his glamour boy smile. “I love the beach, but so many people recognize me that it’s hard to chill. Usually, if I’m with a woman, people give me a little more space.”

“And I’m the only woman you can find to go with you? I doubt that.”

His eyes twinkled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’ll be more relaxing if I invite somebody I’m not planning to sleep with.”

Annabelle burst out laughing.

“Poor Dean needs a friend, not a lover.” Bodie chuckled.

“You’re invited, too, Mrs. Palmer,” Dean said politely.

“Honey, not even a hottie like you could get me out in public wearing a bathing suit.”

“What do you think, Annabelle?” Dean cocked his head toward the lakefront. “We’ll go to the Oak Street Beach. I’ll bring a cooler. We can hang out, swim, listen to music. It’ll be fun. You can lower your standards for a couple of hours, can’t you?”

Her life had gotten so weird since she’d met Heath Champion. Chicago’s hottest young jock had just asked her to spend Sunday afternoon lying on the beach with him when, only two days ago, she’d been feeling sorry for herself because she didn’t have any plans for the Fourth of July weekend. “As long as you promise not to ogle younger women while I’m with you.”

“I’d never do that!” he declared, apparently forgetting the brunette Rollerblader.

“Just so we’re clear.”

And he didn’t.

He didn’t talk on his cell, either, or whip out a BlackBerry. It was a hot, cloudless day, and he even provided a beach umbrella to protect her redhead’s skin. They lay on towels listening to music, talking when they felt like it, and gazing out at the water when they didn’t. She wore her two-piece white suit, which was cut high enough at the thigh to make her legs look longer, but not so high that she needed a Brazilian wax. Some of his fans interrupted, but not too many. Still, everyone seemed to want a piece of Dean Robillard. Maybe that was why she sensed an odd sort of loneliness beneath his oversize ego. He dodged questions about his family, and she didn’t press him.

She had four voice mails waiting when she got home, all from Heath, demanding she call him right away. Instead, she took a shower. She was toweling her hair dry when she heard the doorbell ring. She fastened her yellow terry robe at the waist and headed downstairs, running one hand through her mop as she padded to the door.

A tall hunk of a man gazed back at her through the wavy glass. The Python was paying his second house call.





Chapter Eleven




Only two boxes of thin mint cookies this year, girls,” Annabelle said as she pulled the door open. “I’m on a diet.”

Heath pushed past her. “Do you ever check your phone messages?”

She gazed down at her bare feet. “Once again, you’ve caught me looking my best.”

He was in hyper mode, and he barely glanced at her, exactly as it should be. “You look beautiful. So there I am, stuck in a Bible study class in Indianapolis, when I hear the news that my matchmaker is sunning herself on the beach with Dean Robillard.”

“You took a phone call in the middle of Bible study?”

“I was bored.”

“And you were in the class because …? Never mind. Your client wanted you to go.” She shut the door.

“Why the hell did Robillard ask you out?”

“He’s smitten. It happens all the time. Raoul says I can’t help the effect I have on men.”

“Uh-huh. Bodie told me Dean wanted to go to the beach, and he needed a decoy.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“So I could get Raoul’s take on it.”

She grinned and padded after him into her reception room. “Your scary henchman knew about this yesterday. Why did he wait until today to tell you?”