Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(91)

Annabelle nodded but didn’t say more, and he tensed. Maybe the date hadn’t gone as well as he thought. Delaney was a blue blood. What if she’d caught too strong a whiff of the trailer park?

“I talked with her a few minutes ago,” Annabelle finally said. “She’s smitten. Congratulations.”

“Really?” His instincts had been on target. “That’s great. Let’s celebrate. How about a beer?”

Annabelle didn’t move. “It’s…not a good time.”

She glanced over her shoulder, and that’s when it hit him. She wasn’t alone. He took in her fresh lip gloss and the blue mini. His good mood fizzled. Who did she have with her?

He gazed over the top of her head, but the front room was empty. Which didn’t mean the same thing was true of her bedroom…He fought the urge to charge past her and see for himself. “No problem,” he said stiffly. “I’ll talk to you next week.”

But instead of walking away, he stood there. Finally she nodded and shut the door.

Five minutes ago he’d been on top of the world. Now he wanted to kick something. He headed down the sidewalk and climbed into his car, but it wasn’t until he edged out of his parking space that his headlights caught the vehicle across the street. Earlier, he’d been too preoccupied to notice, but he wasn’t preoccupied now.

The last time he’d seen that bright red Porsche, it had been parked at Stars headquarters.



Annabelle trudged into the kitchen. Dean was sitting at the table, a Coke in one hand, a deck of cards in the other. “It’s your deal,” he said.

“I don’t feel like playing anymore.”

“You’re no fun tonight.” He tossed down the cards.

“Like you’re a barrel of laughs?” Kevin had sprained an ankle in Sunday’s game, so Dean had taken over in the second quarter and thrown four interceptions before the final whistle. The press was all over him, which was why he’d decided to hide out at her place for a while.

Water dripped from the sink faucet, its irritating plunk plunk getting on her nerves. She’d known Delaney and Heath would be a match. The enticing combination of Delaney’s appearance, her tomboyish athleticism, and her impeccable pedigree had predictably knocked Heath off his feet. And Delaney’d always had a weakness for macho men.

Annabelle had met Delaney twenty-one years ago at summer camp, and they’d become best friends, even though Delaney was two years younger. After their camp days had ended, they’d seen less of each other, mainly meeting in Chicago when Annabelle had visited Nana. During college, they’d drifted apart, only to reconnect a few years ago. Now they met every few months for lunch, no longer best friends, but friendly acquaintances with a shared history. For weeks now, Annabelle had been thinking about how perfect Delaney and Heath were for each other, so why had she waited so long to introduce them?

Because she’d known how perfect they’d be for each other.

She gazed over at Dean, who was tossing popcorn kernels in the air and catching them in his mouth. If only his passing game had been as accurate. She turned off the dripping faucet then slumped down at the table, a kindred soul in depression.

The refrigerator’s compressor clicked off, and the kitchen fell quiet except for the ticktock of the daisy wall clock and the soft plop of popcorn finding its target.

“Do you want to make out?” she said glumly.

He coughed up a kernel. “No!”

“You don’t have to look so outraged.”

His chair banged back down on all four legs. “It’d be like making out with my sister.”

“You haven’t got a sister.”

“No, but I’ve got an imagination.”

“Fine. I didn’t want to anyway. I was just making conversation.”

“You were just trying to distract yourself because you’ve fallen in love with the wrong guy.”

“You’re so full of it.”

“I heard Heath’s voice at the door.”

“Business.”

“Whatever gets you through the day.” He pushed the popcorn bowl back from the edge of the table. “I’m glad you didn’t let him in. It’s bad enough having Bodie tail me. He won’t give up.”

“It’s been over two months. I can’t believe you still haven’t found an agent. Or have you? No, never mind, I’d just tell Heath, and I don’t want to be in the middle.”

“You’re not in the middle. You’re on his side.” He tilted back in the chair again. “So why didn’t you take advantage of this golden opportunity to make him jealous and ask him in?”

Exactly what she’d been wondering herself except, really, what was the point? She was sick of deception, sick of keeping her guard up. She’d only invented her crush to keep from losing Heath as a client, and she no longer had to worry about that.

“I didn’t feel like it.”

For all his dumb-jock ways, Dean was smart as a whip, and she didn’t like the way he was looking at her, so she frowned at him. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“Tinted sunblock on my chin. I’ve got a zit.”

“It sucks being a teenager.”

“If you’d invited him in, I’d have nibbled on your neck and everything.”