Page 101 of Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars 6)

The phone by the register rang, and he answered it. “Hey, Mark, what’s up? No, I don’t get off till midnight. Sucks.”

She snatched the sack from him and shoved the rest of the boxes inside. One fell to the floor. She left it there.

“Hey, lady, you want your receipt?”

She hurried into the street. It had started to rain again. She clutched the sack to her chest and dodged a fresh-faced young woman who still believed in happily-ever-after. Rain soaked her hair, and by the time she got back home, she was shivering. She dumped the sack on her dining room table. Some of the boxes spilled out.

She shrugged off her trench coat and tried to catch her breath. She should make herself a cup of tea, turn on some music, maybe the television. But she did none of those things. Instead, she sank into the chair at the foot of the table and slowly began lining up the boxes in front of her.

Seven boxes. Six chicks to a box.

Hands trembling, she started peeling off the cellophane and tearing open the flaps. Bits of purple cardboard dropped to the floor. Chicks tumbled out along with a gritty snow of yellow sugar.

Finally all the boxes were opened. She pushed the last remnants of cardboard and cellophane to the carpet. Only the chicks were left. As she gazed at them, she knew Bodie had been right about her. All her life, she’d been driven by fear, so frightened of falling short that she’d forgotten how to live.

She began to eat the chicks, one by one.

Chapter Twenty

Construction had clogged Denver’s midday traffic, dampening Heath’s already foul mood. For six weeks, he’d shown Delaney nothing but respect. This was his future wife, after all, and he didn’t want her to think he was only after her for sex. An image of Annabelle naked sprang into his mind. He gritted his teeth and laid on the horn of the rental car. The only reason he kept thinking about Annabelle was because he was worried. No matter how much he nosed around, he couldn’t find out for sure if she and Deanwere sleeping together.

The distinct possibility that Dean was taking advantage of Annabelle made him crazy, but he forced his thoughts back to Delaney where they belonged. During their last couple of dates, she’d started sending strong signals that she was ready for sex, which meant he had to make plans, but that wasn’t as simple as it seemed. For one thing, she had roommates, so he’d have to take her to his house, and how could he do that until he’d moved his workout equipment to the basement? He wanted her to like his house, but he’d already discovered that she didn’t care much for contemporary architecture, so he’d probably have to sell it. A couple of months ago, that would have been fine, but something about seeing it through Annabelle’s eyes had made him start to look at the place differently. He hoped he could talk Delaney into changing her mind.

He flipped the bird at the jerk who’d just cut him off and pondered a bigger problem. He couldn’t shake the old-fashioned notion that he should propose to Delaney before they slept together. She was Delaney Lightfield, not some football groupie. True, they’d only dated for six weeks, but it was obvious to everybody except Bodie that they were perfect for each other, so why wait?

Except how could he propose without a ring?

For a brief moment, he considered asking Annabelle to pick one out, but even he knew

he could only delegate so much. Traffic ground to a stop. He’d be late for his eleven o’clock meeting. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The difficulty of trying to propose to Delaney without mentioning the love word flashed through his mind, but he’d work that out later. For now, he had to figure out what to do about the ring. She’d have lots of opinions about diamonds, and he suspected his philosophy of “the bigger the better” might not be in line with her upper-crust way of thinking. She’d want something discreet with a perfect cut. Then there was that color crap people talked about. Frankly, one diamond looked pretty much like another to him.

The traffic still wasn’t moving. Heath thought it over. What the hell. He reached for his cell and made the call.

For once, Annabelle answered instead of her voice mail.

He kept it brief, but she was in one of her uncooperative moods, and even with horns blaring around him, she shouted so loud he had to hold the phone away from his ear.

“You want me to do what?”

Annabelle stormed around the house, slamming cupboard doors and kicking over her office wastebasket. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself fall for such a complete and utter idiot. Heath wanted her to check out engagement rings for Delaney! What a shitty day. And with her family birthday party coming up in a couple of weeks, the future didn’t look any cheerier.

She grabbed her jacket and headed out for a walk. Maybe the sunny October afternoon would brighten her spirits. The truth was, she should be on top of the world. Mr. Bronicki and Mrs. Valerio were moving in together. “We’d like to get married,” they’d explained to Annabelle, “but we can’t afford it, so we’re doing the next best thing.” Even more exciting, Annabelle might have made her first permanent match. Janine and Ray Fiedler seemed to be falling in love.

She couldn’t have been happier for her friend, and she finally smiled. Once Ray had gotten rid of his comb-over, his attitude had also improved, and he’d turned out to be a decent guy. Janine had been afraid he’d be repulsed by her mastectomy, but he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Annabelle had other reasons to be happy. Things were looking serious between Ernie Marks, her shy elementary school principal, and Wendy, the bubbly architect. She’d talked Melanie out of her infatuation with John Nager. And thanks to the publicity from Heath’s match with Delaney, her business had been growing like crazy. Finally, she had enough money in the bank to start thinking about buying a new car.

Instead, she thought about Heath and Delaney. How could he be so blind? Despite everything Annabelle had once believed, Delaney wasn’t the right woman for him. She was too contained, too polished. Too perfect.

Heath had the ring in his pocket, but his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth. This was stupid. He never let pressure get to him, yet here he was with a bad case of flop sweat.

This afternoon he’d sent his secretary to pick up the ring he’d chosen as soon as he’d gotten back from Denver two weeks ago. He and Delaney had just finished a five-hundred-dollar dinner at Charlie Trotter’s. The lighting was muted, the music soft, the atmosphere perfect. All he had to do was take her hand and say the magic words. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?

He’d decided to dodge the whole “I love you” thing by keeping it specific. He’d tell her he loved her intelligence; he loved the way she looked. He definitely loved playing golf with her. Most of all, he loved her polish, the sense that she’d finish him. If she pressed him on the love thing, he could always tell her he was fairly sure he would love her at some time in the future, after they’d been married for a while and he was certain she’d stick, but somehow he didn’t think she’d see his reassurance in the same positive light he did, so best to deflect.

He wondered if she’d get teary-eyed when he gave her the ring. Probably not. She wasn’t too emotional, which was another positive. Afterward, they’d go back to his place and celebrate their engagement in bed. He’d make sure he took it slow. He sure as hell wouldn’t rush her like he’d rushed Annabelle.

Damn, that had been fun.

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