Page 46 of Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars 6)

He shot into the left lane. “Do you want me to bow out? I can call Molly in the morning and tell her that something’s come up. Is that what you want me to do?”

“Like I have any choice if I want to keep you as a client.”

“Okay, let me make it easy for you. Regardless of what you decide, you’re rehired. One way or another, our contract still holds.”

She let him see she wasn’t impressed with his offer. “And I can just imagine how cooperative you’d be if I refused to take you on the retreat.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest. Look me in the eye and admit that you didn’t have the slightest intention of rehiring me until you heard about the retreat.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He didn’t look her in the eye, but at least he was being honest. “I wasn’t going to forgive you. And you know why? Because I’m a ruthless son of a bitch.”

“Fine. You can come with me.”

Annabelle spent the next few days feeling pissy. She tried to chalk her mood up to getting her period, but she wasn’t as good at self-deception as she used to be. Heath’s cold-blooded behavior had left her feeling bruised, betrayed, and just plain mad. One mistake, and he’d written her off. If it weren’t for the Wind Lake retreat, she’d never have seen him again. She was totally expendable, another one of his worker bees.

On Tuesday he left a terse voice message. “Portia has someone she wants me to meet at eight-thirty on Thursday evening. Set me up with one of your introductions at eight so we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Finally, she put the anger where it belonged, on her own shoulders. He wasn’t to blame for those sexual images that wanted to burn themselves into her brain when her guard was down. To him, this was business. She was the one who’d let it become personal, and if she forgot that again, she deserved the consequences.

On Thursday evening before she headed to Sienna’s for the next round of introductions, she met her newest client at Earwax. Ray Fiedler had been referred by a relative of one of Nana’s oldest friends, and Annabelle had sent him on his first date the night before with a Loyola faculty member she’d met during her campus cruising. “We had a nice time and everything,” Ray said after they’d settled around one of Earwax’s wooden tables, which was painted like the wheel of a circus wagon, “but Carole’s not really my physical type.”

“How do you mean?” Annabelle drew her eyes away from the ominous beginnings of his comb-over. She knew the answer, but she wanted to make him say it.

“She’s…I mean, she’s a really nice woman. A lot of people don’t get my jokes. It’s just that I like women who are…more fit.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Carole’s a little overweight.”

She took a sip of her cappuccino and studied the red-and-gold wooden dragon on the wall rather than the extra twenty pounds that hung around what used to be Ray Fiedler’s waistline.

He wasn’t stupid. “I know I’m not exactly Mr. Buff myself, but I work out.”

Annabelle fought the urge to reach across the table and smack him in the head. Still, this type of challenge was part of what she liked about being a matchmaker. “You usually date thin women, then?”

“They don’t have to be beauty queens, but the women I’ve dated have been pretty nice looking.”

Annabelle pretended to look thoughtful. “I’m a little confused. When we first talked, you gave me the impression that you hadn’t dated in a long time.”

“Well, I haven’t, but…”

She let him squirm for a few moments. A kid with multiple piercings passed their table followed by a pair of soccer moms. “So this weight thing is really import

ant to you? More important than personality or intelligence?”

He looked as if she’d asked a trick question. “I just had somebody a little …different in mind.”

And don’t we all? Annabelle thought. The Fourth of July weekend was coming up, and she had no date, no prospects for a date, and no plans beyond starting her exercise program again and trying not to brood about the Wind Lake book club retreat. Ray fiddled with his spoon, and her annoyance with him faded. He was a decent guy, just clueless.

“Maybe you’re not a love match,” she said, “but I’ll tell you the same thing I told Carole last night when she expressed a few misgivings. You have a common background, and you enjoyed each other’s company. I think that justifies another date, regardless of your current lack of physical attraction. If nothing else, you could end up with a friend.”

A few beats passed before he got it. “What do you mean misgivings? She doesn’t want to see me again?”

“She has a few doubts, just like you do.”

His hand flew to his head. “It’s because of my hair, isn’t it? That’s all women care about. They see a guy who’s losing his hair, and they don’t want to give him the time of day.”

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