Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(56)

“His wife’s name is Charmaine.” She surreptitiously slipped a T-shirt over her lingerie pile

“The greatest D.T. the Stars ever had.”

“Charmaine played football?”

But he was a John Deere on his way to a tractor-pulling contest, and she couldn’t distract him. “Who else?”

“Krystal Greer.” She pulled out her toiletry case and set it on the dresser’s cracked white marble top.

“Webster Greer’s wife. Unbelievable. He went to the Pro Bowl nine years in a row.”

“It’s the women who are members, not the men. Try not to embarrass me.”

He snorted and picked up his suitcase but paused at the door. “Did anybody bring their kids?”

“Adults only.”

He smiled. “Excellent.”

“Except for Pippi and Danny. They’re too young to leave behind.”

“Shit.”

She frowned at him. “What’s wrong with you? They’re adorable children.”

“One of them’s adorable. I’d sign him right now if I could.”

“The road trips might be a challenge, since he’s still nursing. And Pippi’s just as cute as Danny. That little girl is precious.”

“She’ll be in prison before she makes it to first grade.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just rambling.” He headed out the door only to poke his head back in. “Good taste in panties, Tinker Bell.” Then he was gone.

She sank down on the side of the bed. The man didn’t miss anything. What else about her might he notice that she didn’t want him to see? With a sense of foreboding, she traded in her new slacks for biscuit-colored shorts but left the flirty bronze top on. After running her fingers through her hair, she headed for the porch. Heath was already there. He’d also changed into shorts, along with a light gray T-shirt that curled like pipe smoke around the contours of his chest. A blade of light angling through the screen caught one cheekbone, etching its tough, uncompromising contour. “Are you going to sabotage me this weekend?” he asked quietly.

He had grounds for being suspicious, so she shouldn’t have been offended, but she was. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

“Your page.”

“All I’m asking is that you don’t undermine me. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” she said, sarcastic as all hell.

“What’s your beef, anyway? You’ve been marginally bitchy all afternoon.”

She was pleased that he’d noticed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And not just this afternoon. You’re taking potshots at me whenever you see the opportunity. Is it personal or symbolic of your feelings toward men in general? It’s not my fault your last boyfriend decided to play for the same team you’re on.”

Okay. Now she was mad. “Who told you that?”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“It’s not exactly.” Molly wouldn’t have said anything, but Kevin still had trouble accepting what Rob had done, which made him the likely culprit. She shoved one of the chairs back under the table. She wouldn’t talk about Rob to Heath. “I’m sorry if I’ve been testy,” she said, still sounding testy, “but I have a hard time understanding people who make work the center of their lives to the exclusion of personal relationships.”

“Which is exactly why you brought me here. To fix that.”

He had her there.

“Shall we?” He gestured toward the porch door.

“Why not?” She tossed her hair and marched past him. “Time to get Operation Suck Up off and running.”

“Now, that’s the kind of can-do attitude I like to hear.”



The fire popped and sparks shot into the sky. Only the platter of chocolate brownies Molly had baked for them in the B&B’s kitchen that afternoon remained on the picnic table. A young couple took care of the everyday operation of the campground, but Molly and Kevin always pitched in when they were here. The meal had been delicious: grilled steaks, baked potatoes with plenty of toppings, sweet onions perfectly charred at the edges, and a salad laced with juicy slices of ripe pear. Kevin and Molly had left their children with the couple who ran the campground, nobody had to drive home, and the wine and beer flowed. Heath was in his element, friendly and charming with the women, perfectly at home with the men. He was a chameleon, Annabelle thought, subtly adjusting his behavior to suit his audience. Tonight, everyone except Phoebe was enjoying his company, and even she hadn’t done much worse than shoot him a few poisonous glares.

As the music from the boom box began to crank up, Annabelle wandered out onto the deserted dock, but just as she’d begun to enjoy the solitude, she heard the purposeful tap of a pair of sandals coming her way and turned to see Molly approaching. With the exception of the more generous bust-line that nursing Danny had given her, she looked like the same studious girl Annabelle had first met more than a decade ago in a comparative lit class. Tonight she’d pulled her straight brown hair back from her face with a barrette, and a tiny pair of silver sea turtles bobbed at her earlobes. She wore purple capris with a matching top and a necklace made out of elbow macaroni.