Page 33 of Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars 6)

“Fair enough.”

Annabelle returned, a satisfied smile on her face. Heath regarded her with amusement. “I sure hope I never have to go head to head with you in the wrestling ring.”

A furrow formed along the bridge of her small nose. “You were mean. He’s lonesome, and arguing with me gives him something to look forward to.” She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“Your phones aren’t working.”

“Sure they are.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, jeez…”

“Forgot to pay your bill?”

“Just for my cell. I know my other phone’s working.” She disappeared through the archway. He followed her into her office. Quality art posters filled the long wall behind her computer desk. He recognized a Chagall and one of Jasper Johns’s white-on-white American flags.

She lifted the receiver and, when she didn’t hear a dial tone, looked mystified. Heath picked up the cord dangling next to the ancient black answering machine. “It works better when it’s plugged in.”

Annabelle shoved it back in. “I was trying to fix it last night.”

“Good job. You’ve never heard of voice mail?”

“This is cheaper.”

“When it comes to keeping in touch with your clients, never cut corners.”

“You’re right. I know better.”

The fact that she didn’t try to argue took him aback. Most people went on the defensive when they screwed up.

“I don’t make a habit of not paying my bills,” she said. “I think what happened with my cell was subconscious. We’re not getting along.”

“Maybe counseling would help.”

“In what universe did I ever think it was a good idea to let my mother find me whenever she wanted?” She sank down in the chair, her expression an entertaining combination of indignation and woe. “Tell me you’re not here because you canceled your date with Rachel tonight.”

“No. We’re on.”

“Then what’s up?”

“A goodwill mission. I saw Molly today at Stars headquarters, and she asked me to remind you about tomorrow. One o’clock.”

“The party…I almost forgot.” She cocked her head, suspicion back in those melted butterscotch eyes. “You drove all the way up here just to remind me about Phoebe’s party?”

“Phoebe’s party? I thought it was Molly’s.”

“No.”

Thi

s was even better. He picked up the small, pink Beanie Baby rabbit she kept on her computer monitor and examined it. “Do you go to a lot of parties at the Calebows?”

“A few,” she said slowly. “Why?”

“I was thinking about tagging along.” He turned the rabbit bottoms up and checked out its tail. “Or do you already have a date?”

“No, it’s not—” She sank back into her desk chair, her eyes widening. “Wow. This is truly pathetic. You’re using me to get to Phoebe. You can’t get an invitation to her parties on your own, and now you’re using me.”

“Pretty much.” He returned the rabbit to its perch.

“You’re not even embarrassed.”

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