Page 77 of Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars 6)

“Refresh my memory.”

“Don’t make me say it. It’s too embarrassing.”

“What’s a little embarrassment between friends?” he said tightly. “Since we’re being so honest.”

She gazed up at the ceiling, rolled her shoulders, looked down at the floor. Her voice grew small, almost timid. “You know…The tiny crush I have on Dean Robillard.”

The floor shifted beneath him.

She pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, God, I’m blushing. I’m awful, aren’t I, talking to you about this?”

“No, please.” He ground out the words. “Feel free.”

She dropped her hands and regarded him with all kinds of earnestness. “I know it probably won’t come to anything—this thing with Dean—but before last night, I didn’t even have the nerve to give it a chance. He’s obviously an experienced guy, and what was I going to do if the connection I felt wasn’t just in my imagination? What would I do if he was interested in me, too? I couldn’t cope with the sexual ramifications. But after what you did for me last night, I finally have the courage to at least give it a shot. If nothing comes of it, well, that’s life, but at least I’ll know it wasn’t my neurosis that held me back.”

“Are you saying…I was your icebreaker?”

Those honey-colored eyes darkened with concern. “Tell me that’s okay with you. I know your emotions weren’t involved, but, still, nobody likes to think they’ve been taken advantage of.”

He unclenched his teeth. “And that’s what you did? You took advantage of me?”

“I wasn’t, you know, picturing him in my mind last night when I was with you or anything. Well, maybe for a couple of seconds, but that’s all, I swear.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“So are we okay?” she asked.

He didn’t understand the smoldering mass of resentment growing in his chest, especially since she’d handed him a free pass. “I don’t know. Are we?”

She had the nerve to grin. “I think so. You look a little grouchy, but you don’t look like a man whose honor’s been violated. I shouldn’t have been so worried. For you, it was just sex, but for me it was this huge emancipation. Thanks, pal.”

She stuck out her hand, forcing him to set down his coffee mug to shake it or look like a dick. Then she hopped to her feet, threw her arms over her head, and uncurled her small body in a cat’s satisfied stretch that pulled up her T-shirt and displayed the small oval belly button he’d dipped the tip of his tongue into last night. “I’ll meet you at the gazebo.” Her expression clouded with earnestness. “And, Heath, I promise, if you have even the tiniest leftover resentment toward me, it’ll disappear by next week. This makes me even more determined to find you the perfect woman. Now, it’s not just business. It’s personal.”

Shooting him a blazing smile, she bounced away into the kitchen, only to pop her head back out. “Thanks. I mean it. I owe you one.”

Moments later the cottage door closed. He fell back on the pillow, set his coffee mug on his chest, and tried to take it in.

Annabelle had used him as a warm-up act for Robillard?

Chapter Fifteen

As Annabelle approached the gazebo, she saw Ron and Sharon ahead of her on the path, their arms around each other’s waists. She was still shaking, and her stomach felt like an acid swamp. She might not have been the best actress in Northwestern’s theater department, but she still knew how to pull off a scene. In front of her, Ron held the gazebo door open for Sharon. His other hand strayed to her bottom. No mystery what they’d been up to last night. Now all she had to do was make certain none of them got an inkling of what she’d been up to.

As she let herself in through the screen door, everybody called out greetings, and she’d never seen a more sleep-deprived, sexually satisfied group. Molly had a rosy mark on her neck that looked like beard burn, and from the smug expression on Darnell’s face, Charmaine didn’t deserve her reputation as a prude. Phoebe and Dan sat on a wicker couch sharing a single muffin. And instead of nagging Webster as she usually did, Krystal was cooing and calling him “Baby.” The only innocent faces belonged to Pippi, baby Danny, and Janine.

Annabelle turned her attention to the meal Molly had set out, even though she didn’t feel like eating. A sunny yellow pottery vase filled with zinnias sat in the center of a nutmeg-colored tablecloth displaying frosty pitchers of juice, a French toast casserole, a basket of homemade muffins, and the B&B’s specialty, baked oatmeal laced with brown sugar, cinnamon, and apples.

“Where’s Heath?” Kevin asked. “Never mind. On the phone.”

“He’ll be along,” she said. “He’s getting a late start. I’m not sure what time he got to sleep last night, but he was still awake when I went to bed.” As she headed for the buffet, she told herself the lie was an act of kindness, since the truth would have ruined more than a few breakfasts.

Janine, who was filling her plate, cast a disgruntled look at the gooey-eyed behavior going on behind her. “Tell me I’m not the only one feeling sexually deprived this morning.”

Annabelle sidestepped. “Krystal should have been more sensitive toward the two of us.”

“So we were wrong about you and Heath?”

Annabelle simply rolled her eyes. “You guys do love your drama.”

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