Match Me If You Can

Chapter Twenty-One

Ever since the day Annabelle had walked into Heath's office, her life had been a Ferris wheel spinning at triple speed. She'd soar to the top, hang there for a few blissful seconds, then take a stomach-turning plummet to the bottom. As she got ready for her birthday party, she told herself she was glad she'd fired him. He was crazy. Even worse, he'd made her crazy. At least tonight she wouldn't have time to think about him. Instead, she'd be making sure her family saw her as she was, no longer a failure but an almost-successful, just-turned-thirty-two-year-old businesswoman who didn't need anybody's advice or pity. Perfect for You might not be a candidate for the Fortune 500, but at least it was finally turning a profit.

She screwed the top back on a tube of lip gloss and headed across the hall from the bathroom to the full-length mirror in Nana's bedroom. She liked what she saw. Her cocktail dress, a long-sleeved A-line, had been a splurge, but she didn't regret a penny. The flattering off-the-shoulder neckline made her neck look long and graceful, as well as dramatizing her face and hair. She could have chosen the dress in safe, conservative black, but she'd opted for peach instead. She loved the dramatic juxtaposition of the soft pastel with her red hair, which was behaving perfectly for a change, floating around her face in a pretty tousle and providing peekaboo glimpses of a delicate pair of lacy gold chandeliers. Her butter-cream stilettos gave her a few extra inches of height, but not nearly as much stature as the man on her arm would provide.

"You're bringing a date?" Kate's astonishment over breakfast at her parents' hotel that morning still grated, but Annabelle had held her tongue. While Dean's relative youth might work against her, the Grangers were huge football fans. With the exception of Candace, the family had followed the Stars for years, and she could only hope that Dean's status would compensate for his youth and diamond studs.

She took one last look at her reflection. Candace would be wearing Max Mara, but so what? Her sister-in-law was an insecure, social-climbing dork. Annabelle wished Doug had brought Jamison instead, but her nephew was home in California with a nanny. Annabelle glanced at her watch. Her trophy date wouldn't be picking her up for another twenty minutes. Before Dean had agreed to do this, she'd had to promise to be at his beck and call for the rest of her natural life, but it would be worth it.

As she headed downstairs, she grew uncomfortably aware that there was something pathetic about a now thirty-two-year-old woman still trying to earn her family's approval. Maybe when she was forty she'd have gotten past this. Or maybe not. Face it, she had reason to be apprehensive. The last time she'd been with her family, they'd staged an intervention.

"You have so much potential, darling," Kate had said over Christmas Eve eggnog on the lanai of their Naples home. "We love you too much to stand by and watch you waste it."

"It's fine to be a screwup when you're twenty-one," Doug had said. "But if you haven't gotten serious about a career by the time you're thirty, you start looking like a loser."

"Doug's right," Dr. Adam had said. "We can't always be watching out for you.You need to dig in."

"At least think about how your lifestyle reflects on the rest of the family." That had come from Candace, after she'd tossed back her fourth eggnog.

Even her father had piled on. "Take some golf lessons. There's no better place to make the right kind of connections."

Tonight's "party" would be at the stodgy Mayfair Club, where Kate had booked a private room. Annabelle had wanted to invite the book club for protection but Kate had insisted it be "just family." Adam's newest girlfriend and Annabelle's mystery date were the only exceptions.

Annabelle tested the temperature outside. It was chilly, almost Halloween, but not cold enough to ruin her outfit with one of her ratty jackets. She stepped back inside and began to pace. Another fifteen minutes until Dean was due to pick her up. Surely tonight her family would finally see that she wasn't a failure. She looked good, she had a very hot, make-believe boyfriend, and Perfect for You had begun to turn the corner. If only Heath…

She'd been trying so hard not to gnaw over her unhappi-ness. She hadn't talked to him since the party last weekend, and, so far, he'd honored her demand to leave her alone. She'd even managed to resist calling him to acknowledge the boxes of gourmet groceries and pricey liquors he'd had delivered to replenish her pantry. Why he'd included the lone African violet remained a mystery.

As painful as it was, she knew he was an emotional investment she could no longer afford. For months, she'd tried to convince herself that her feelings for him centered more on lust than love, but it wasn't true. She loved him in so many ways she'd lost count: his basic decency, his humor, the way he understood her. But his emotional hang-ups had roots a mile deep, and they'd caused him irreparable damage. He was capable of absolute loyalty, of total dedication, of offering strength and comfort, but she no longer believed he was capable of love. She had to cut him out of her life.

The phone rang. If Dean was canceling, she'd never forgive him. She rushed into her office and snatched up the receiver before the voice mail could kick in. "Hello?"

"This is personal, not business," Heath said, "so don't hang up. We have to talk."

Just the sound of his voice made her heart leap. "Oh, no, we don't."

"You fired me," he said calmly. "I respect that. You're not my matchmaker any longer. But we're still friends, and in the interest of our friendship, we need to discuss page thirteen."

"Page thirteen?"

"You've accused me of being arrogant. I've always thought of myself as confident, but I'm here to tell you, no more. After studying these pictures… Honey, if this is what you're looking for in a man, I don't think any of us are going to measure up."

She had a sinking feeling that she understood exactly what he was talking about, and she sank down on the corner of her desk. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Who knew flexible silicone came in so many colors?"

Her sex toy catalog. He'd taken it months ago. She'd hoped he'd forgotten it by now.

"Most of these products seem to be hypoallergenic," Heath went on. "That's good, I guess. Some with batteries, some without. I suppose that's a matter of preference. There's a harness on this one. That's pretty kinky. And… Son of a bitch! It says this one is dishwasher safe. As much as I like- I'm sorry, but there's just something unappetizing about that."

She should hang up, but she'd missed him so much. "Sean Palmer, is that you? If you don't stop talking dirty, I'm telling your mother."

He didn't bite. "The top of page fourteen… That model comes with some kind of pump. You've got the corner turned down, so you must be interested."

She was fairly sure she hadn't turned any pages down, but who knew?

"And how about this one with the suction cup? The question is, exactly what would you stick it to? A word of caution, sweetheart. You suction something like that to your bedroom window or, hell, the dashboard of your car-it's going to attract the wrong kind of attention."

She smiled.

"Just tell me one thing, Annabelle, and then I have to go." His voice dropped to a low, intimate note that made her shiver. "Why would a woman be so interested in an artificial one when the real thing works a hell of a lot better?"

As she searched for just the right comeback, he hung up. She took a few deep breaths, but they didn't begin to steady her. No matter how much she tried to inoculate herself, he got to her every time, which was the biggest reason of all why she couldn't afford these conversations.

The doorbell rang. Thank God, Dean was early. She jumped up from the desk and pressed her hands to her cheeks to cool herself off. Plastering a smile on her face, she opened the front door.

Heath stood on the other side.

"Happy birthday." He slipped his cell into his pocket, tossed her catalog down, and brushed her lips with a soft, quick kiss, which she could barely keep from returning.

"What are you doing here?"

"You look beautiful. More than beautiful. Unfortunately, your present won't get here until tomorrow, but I don't want you to think I forgot."

"What present? Never mind." She made herself block the doorway instead of opening her arms. "Dean's picking me up in ten minutes. I can't talk to you now."

He moved her out of the way so he could get inside. "I'm afraid Dean's indisposed. I'm taking his place. I like your dress."

"What are you talking about? I spoke to him three hours ago, and he was fine."

"Those stomach viruses come on fast."

"Bull. What have you done with him?"

"It wasn't me. It was Kevin. I don't know why he had to insist on watching game film with him tonight. Don't quote me, but your pal Kevin can be a real prick when he wants to." He nuzzled her neck, right behind her chandelier earring. "Damn, you smell good."

It took her a few beats too long to push herself away. "Does Molly know about this?"

"Not exactly. Unfortunately, Molly's gone over to the dark side along with her sister. Those two women are way too protective of you. It's me they should be worrying about. I don't know why they haven't figured out you can take care of yourself."

She liked knowing he understood that about her, but she still wouldn't give in to his smarmy agent's charm. "I don't want to go to my birthday party with you. As far as my family knows, you're still my client, so it would look a little odd. Besides, I want to go with Dean. Someone who'll impress them."

"And you think I won't?"

She took in his dark gray suit, probably Armani, his designer necktie, and tonight's watch, an incredible white gold Patek Philippe. Her family would roll on their backs and beg him to scratch their stomachs.

He knew he'd boxed her in. She saw it in his crafty smile. "Oh, all right," she said grouchily. "But I'm warning you now, my brothers are the most clueless, obnoxious, opinionated men you'll ever meet." She threw up her hands. "Why am I wasting my breath? You're going to love them."

And they loved him right back. Their shocked expressions when she walked into the Mayfair Club's walnut-paneled private dining room with Heath at her side fulfilled all her fantasies. First they checked to make sure he wasn't wearing high heels, then they mentally priced out his wardrobe. Even before introductions were exchanged, he was one of them, a certified member of the high-achievers' club.

"Mom and Dad, this is Heath Champion, and I know what you're thinking. It sounded phony to me, too. But he was born Campione, and you've got to admit the name Champion is good for marketing."

"Very good for marketing," Kate said approvingly. Her favorite bracelet, an engraved gold cuff, clinked against Nana's old charm bracelet. At the same time, she shot Annabelle an inquisitive glance, which Annabelle pretended not to see, since she still hadn't figured out how to explain why the man they knew as her most important client had shown up as her date.

Tonight Kate was clad in one of her St. John knit suits, the champagne color perfectly matching her ash blond hair, which she'd worn in a jaw-length Gena Rowlands pageboy for as long as Annabelle could remember. Her dad sported his favorite navy blazer, a white shirt, and a gray necktie the same color as what remained of his curly hair. Once it had been auburn like hers. An American flag pin graced his lapel, and as she hugged him, she drew in his familiar daddy scent: Brut shaving cream, dry-cleaning fluid, and well-scrubbed surgeon's skin.

Heath started pumping hands. "Kate, Chet, it's a pleasure."

Although Annabelle had met her parents earlier for breakfast, her brothers had only flown in a few hours ago, and she exchanged hugs with them. Doug and Adam had inherited their blond, blue-eyed good looks from Kate, although not her tendency to carry a few extra pounds at the waist. They were looking especially handsome tonight, hard-bodied and successful.

"Doug, you're the accountant, right?" Respect shone in Heath's eyes. "I heard you made VP at Reynolds and Peate. Very impressive. And, Adam… The top heart surgeon in St. Louis. It's an honor."

Her brothers were honored right back, and the men did a friendly little shoulder slapping. "Read about you in the paper…"

"You've built quite a reputation…"

"… amazing client roster you have."

Her sister-in-law used perfume like bug repellant, so Anna-belle hugged her last. Overly tanned, aggressively made-up, and undernourished, Candace wore a short black strapless dress to showcase her toned arms and trim calves. Her diamond studs were nearly as big as Sean Palmer's, but Annabelle still thought she looked like a horse.

Heath gave Candace his double whammy-sexy smile and patented dead-eyed sincerity. "Wow, Doug, how'd an ugly guy like you manage to land such a beauty?"

Doug, who knew exactly how good-looking he was, laughed. Candace gave a coquettish toss of her mahogany brown hair extensions. "The question is… How did a girl like Annabelle manage to talk a man like you into joining our silly little family party?"

Annabelle smiled sweetly. "I promised he could tie me up afterward and spank me."

Heath enjoyed that, but her mother huffed. "Annabelle, not everyone here is familiar with your sense of humor."

Annabelle turned her attention to the stranger in the room, Adam's latest conquest. Like the others, including his ex-wife, this one was well tailored and attractive with square features, a blunt-cut dark brown bob, and a total lack of charm. Just the sight of those thin, unsmiling lips announced that her brother had chosen still another emotionally robotic female.

"This is Dr. Lucille Menger." He slipped a protective arm around her shoulders. "Our very talented new pathologist."

Good job choice, Lucy. Not much need to worry about bedside manner.

Heath gave her a megawatt smile. "You and I seem to be the only outsiders tonight, so we'd better stick together. For all we know, these people could be serial killers."

Her parents and brothers chuckled, but Lucille looked mystified. Finally her mental fog cleared. "Oh, that's a joke."

Annabelle shot a quick look at Kate, but beyond the flicker of an eyebrow, her mother wasn't giving anything away. Annabelle's irritation grew. Her brother had a track record for choosing these humorless brainiacs, but did anybody stage an intervention for Dr. Adam? No, they did not. Only for Annabelle.

Heath looked boyishly repentant. "A bad joke, I'm afraid."

Lucille seemed relieved to know it wasn't her.

Kate always booked the Mayfair Club's second-floor private dining room for the Granger family's Chicago gatherings. Decorated like an English manor house with polished brass and chintz, the room offered a cozy seating area near a mullioned bay window that looked down on Delaware Place, and they settled there for cocktails and birthday presents. Doug and Can-dace presented her with a gift certificate for a makeover at a local salon. No mystery who'd come up with that idea. Adam gave her a new DVD player along with a collection of workout videos, thank you very much. When she unwrapped her parents' gift, she found an expensive navy suit she wouldn't have been caught dead wearing, but couldn't return because Kate had ordered it from her favorite working woman's boutique in St. Louis, and the manager would squeal.

"Every woman needs a power suit as she gets older," her mother said.

The corner of Heath's mouth twitched. "I have a gift for Annabelle, too. Unfortunately, it won't be ready until Monday."

Candace pressed him for details, but he refused to say more. Kate could no longer hold back her curiosity about why he was here. "We never mind when Annabelle shows up without a date, even though she says it makes her feel like a fifth wheel. As her client, you certainly had no obligation to be her escort, but… Well, I must say we're all glad you agreed to join us…?"

She ended her sentence with an implied question mark. Annabelle hoped Heath would somehow put an end to her mother's assumption that this was a mercy date for him, but he was more intent on playing the charm card. "It's my pleasure. I've been looking forward to meeting all of you. Annabelle's told me the most amazing stories about your banking career, Kate. You were a real trailblazer for women."

Kate melted all over him. "I don't know about that, but I will say things were a lot more difficult for women back then than they are now. I keep telling Annabelle that she doesn't know how lucky she is. These days, the only obstacles standing in the way of a woman's success are ones of her own making."

Zing.

"You've obviously taught her well," Heath said smoothly. "It's amazing what she's been able to create in such a short time. You must be enormously proud of her."

Kate looked hard at Heath to see if he was kidding. Can-dace snickered. Annabelle didn't exactly hate her sister-in-law, but she wouldn't be the first person standing in line if Candace turned up needing a kidney.

Kate reached across the arm of her chair to pat Annabelle's knee. "Tactfully put, Heath. My daughter has always been a free spirit. And you look lovely tonight, sweetheart, although it's too bad they didn't have that dress in black."

Annabelle sighed. Heath smiled, then turned his attention to Candace, who'd maneuvered a position on the leather sofa between him and Doug. "I understand that you and Doug have a gifted little boy."

Gifted? The most Annabelle had said about Jamison was that he'd learned to get everybody's attention by peeing on the living room rug. But the Granger clan ate it up.

Kate beamed. "He reminds me so much of Doug and Adam at that age."

Tiny penises?

"We're having him tested," Doug said. "We don't want him to be bored in school."

"He loves his nature enrichment class." A strand from Candace's hair extensions was sticking to her lip gloss, but she didn't seem to notice. "We're teaching him to recycle."

"It's amazing how well coordinated he is for a three-year-old," Adam said. "He's going to be quite an athlete."

Kate puffed up with maternal pride. "Doug and Adam were swimmers."

Annabelle had been a swimmer, too.

"Annabelle swam, too." Kate hooked a sickle of blond hair behind her ear. "Unfortunately, she didn't take to it like her brothers."

Translation: Annabelle had never won any medals. "I just had fun," she muttered, but no one was paying attention because her father had decided to enter the conversation.

"I'm cutting down my old seven iron for Jamison. It's never too early to get them interested in the game."

Candace launched into a description of Jamison's academic prowess, and Mr. Charm made all the right responses. Kate regarded her sons fondly. "Both Doug and Adam were reading by the time they were four. Not just words, but entire paragraphs. I'm afraid it took Annabelle a little longer. Not that she was slow-not at all-but she had a hard time sitting still."

She still did.

"A little attention deficit disorder isn't necessarily a bad thing," Annabelle said, feeling the need to interject. "At least it gives you a broad range of interests."

Everybody stared at her, even Heath. It figured. In less than half an hour, he'd deserted the loser's lunch table and taken up permanent residence with the cool kids.

The agony continued as the appetizers arrived and they resettled around the table, which was set with white linen, pink roses, and silver candlesticks. "So, Spud, when are you coming to St. Louis to see the new cardiac wing?" Adam took the seat next to her, his date on his opposite side. "Funniest damn thing,

Lucille. The last time Annabelle visited, somebody left a cleaning bucket in the hall. Annabelle was talking as usual, so she didn't see it. Splat!"

They all laughed as though they hadn't heard the story at least a dozen times.

"Remember that party we had before our senior year in college?" Doug snorted. "We mixed everybody's leftover drinks together and dared Spud to down the whole damn thing. God, I never thought she'd stop puking."

"Yeah, those are some great memories, all right." Annabelle drained her wineglass.

Fortunately, they were more interested in grilling Heath than in torturing her. Doug wanted to know if he'd considered opening an office in L.A. Adam asked if he'd taken on any partners. Her father inquired into his golf game. All of them agreed that hard work, clear-cut goals, and a smooth backswing were the secrets to success. By the time they dug into their entrees, she could see that Heath had fallen as much in love with her family as her family had with him.

Kate, however, still hadn't satisfied her curiosity about why he'd shown up as her escort. "Tell us how your hunt for a wife is coming along. I understand you're working with two matchmakers."

Annabelle decided to get it over with. "One matchmaker. I fired him."

Her brothers laughed, but Kate regarded her severely over her dinner roll. "Annabelle, you have the most bizarre sense of humor."

"I'm not joking," she said. "Heath was impossible to work with."

An embarrassed silence fell over the table. Heath shrugged and set down his fork. "I couldn't seem to stay on task, and Annabelle doesn't put up with a lot of nonsense when it comes to business."

Her family gaped, all except Candace, who'd finished her third chardonnay and decided it was time to launch her very favorite topic of conversation. "You'll never hear it from any of them, Heath, but the Granger family is old, old St. Louis, if you know what I mean."

Heath's fingers curled around the stem of his wineglass. "I'm not sure I do."

As much as Annabelle appreciated the change of topic, she wished Candace could have chosen something else. Kate wasn't happy, either, but since Candace had decided to misbehave instead of Annabelle, she merely asked Lucille to pass the salt.

"Salt leads to high blood pressure," Lucille felt duty bound to point out.

"Fascinating." Kate reached past her for the shaker.

"The Grangers are one of St. Louis's original brewery families," Candace said. "They practically settled the town."

Annabelle stifled a yawn.

Heath, however, abandoned his prime rib to give Candace his full attention. "You don't say?"

Candace, a natural-born snob, was more than happy to elaborate. "My father-in-law waited until he graduated from college to announce that he intended to go into medicine instead of beer. His family was forced to sell out to Anheuser-Busch. Apparently, it was quite the news story."

"I can imagine." Heath gazed across the table at Annabelle. "You never mentioned any of this."

"None of them do," Candace said in a conspiratorial whisper. "They're ashamed of being born with money."

"Not ashamed," her father said firmly. "But Kate and I have always believed in the value of hard work. We had no intention of raising children with nothing better to do than count the money in their trust funds."

Since none of them could touch the money in their trust funds until they were about 130, Annabelle had never understood why it was such a big hairy deal.

"We've watched too many young people get ruined that way," Kate said.

Candace had another tidbit to disclose. "Apparently quite a dustup occurred when Chet brought Kate home. The Grangers saw it as marrying down."

Far from taking offense, Kate looked smug. "Chet's mother was a horrible snob. She couldn't help it, poor thing. She was a product of that insular St. Louis socialite culture, which was exactly why I tried so hard-and so futilely, I might add-to talk Annabelle out of being a debutante. My family might have been working class-God knows my mother was-but-"

"Don't you dare say one bad word about Nana." Annabelle stabbed a green bean.

"-but I knew how to read an etiquette book as well as anyone," Kate went on smoothly, "and it didn't take me long to fit right in with the high and mighty Grangers."

Chet regarded Kate with pride. "By the time my own mother died, she cared more about Kate than she did about me."

Heath hadn't taken his eyes off Annabelle. "You were a debutante?"

Her spine stiffened, and her chin came up. "I loved the gowns, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. You got a problem with that?"

Heath started to laugh, and he kept at it so long that Kate had to dig a tissue from her purse and hand it over so he could wipe his eyes. Frankly, Annabelle didn't see what was so gosh darned funny.

Candace unwisely permitted the waiter to refill her wineglass. "Then there was River Bend, the house where they all grew up…"

Heath gave a snort of amusement. "Your house had a name?"

"Don't look at me," Annabelle retorted. "It happened before I was born."

"River Bend was an estate, not just a house," Candace explained. "We still can't quite believe that Chet talked Kate into selling the property, although their home in Naples has to be seen to be believed."

Heath started laughing all over again.

"You're annoying," Annabelle said.

Candace went on to describe the beauty of River Bend, which made Annabelle nostalgic, even though Candace neglected to mention the drafty windows, smoking fireplaces, and frequent infestations of mice. Finally, even Doug had heard enough, and he switched the subject.

Heath loved the Grangers, every one of them, with the exception of Candace, who was a self-important pain in the ass, but she had to live in Annabelle's shadow, so he was prepared to be tolerant. As he gazed around the table, he saw the rock solid family he'd dreamed of as a boy. Chet and Kate were loving parents who'd dedicated themselves to turning their kids into successful adults. Her brothers' teasing drove Annabelle crazy-they did everything but give her noogies-but as the youngest child and only girl, she was clearly their pet, and watching Adam's and Doug's not-so-subtle competition for her attention was one of the highlights of his evening. The complexities of the mother-daughter relationship were beyond him. Kate was a nag, but she made excuses to touch Annabelle whenever she could and smiled at her when she wasn't looking. As for Chet… His fond expression left no doubt who was Daddy's Little Girl.

As he gazed across the table at her, his throat tightened with pride. He'd never seen her look so beautiful or so sexy, but then his thoughts always seemed to take that direction. Her bare shoulders gleamed in the candlelight, and he wanted to lick the sprinkle of freckles on that graceful little nose. Her shiny swirl of hair reminded him of autumn leaves, and his fingers ached to rumple it. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his outdated, misdirected notions of what made up a trophy wife, he would have realized months ago the place she occupied in his life. But it had taken last weekend's party to open his eyes. Annabelle made everybody happy, including him. With Annabelle, he remembered that life was about living, not just about work, and that laughter was as precious a commodity as cash.

He'd canceled a morning's worth of appointments to pick out her engagement ring, only two and a half carats because her hands were small, and lugging three carats around all day might leave her too tired to take off her clothes at night. He'd planned exactly how he intended to propose to her, and this morning he'd put the first part of that plan in motion.

He'd hired the Northwestern University Marching Band.

He envisioned exactly how it would unfold. Right now, she was angry, so he had to make her forget that, up until a few weeks ago, he'd intended to marry Delaney Lightfield. He had a pretty good idea Annabelle loved him. The Dean Robillard scam proved that, didn't it? And if he was wrong, he'd make her love him… starting tonight.

He'd kiss her breathless, carry her upstairs to that attic bedroom, turn Nana to the wall, and make love with her until they were both senseless. Afterward, he'd follow up with a boatload of flowers, some ultraromantic dates, and a slew of salacious phone calls. When he was absolutely certain he'd crumbled the last of her defenses, he'd invite her to a special dinner at Evanston's top restaurant. After she'd been lulled by good food, champagne, and candlelight, he'd tell her he wanted to see her old college hangouts and suggest a walk around the Northwestern campus. Along the way, he'd pull her into one of those big arched doorways, kiss her, probably feel her up a little because, who was he kidding, there was no way he could kiss Annabelle without touching her. Finally, they'd reach the campus lakefront, and that's where the Northwestern marching band would be waiting, playing something old-fashioned and romantic. He'd drop down on one knee, pull out the ring, and ask her to marry him.

He held on to the image, savored it, and then, with a pang of regret, let it go. There'd be no marching band, no proposal by the lakefront, not even a ring to seal the exact moment he asked her to marry him, since the one he'd chosen wouldn't be ready until next week. He was abandoning his perfect plan because, after meeting the Granger family and seeing how much they meant to one another-how much Annabelle meant to them-he knew they had to be part of this.

The waiter disappeared, leaving them with fresh coffee and dessert. Across the table Annabelle was hissing at St. Louis's preeminent heart surgeon, who'd twisted a lock of her hair around his finger and announced he wouldn't let go until she told everyone about the time she wet her pants at Laurie somebody's birthday party.

Heath rose to his feet. Adam dropped Annabelle's hair, and she kicked him under the table. "Ouch!" Adam rubbed his leg. "That hurt!"

"Good."

"Children…"

Heath smiled. He loved this. "I hope nobody minds, but I have a couple of things to say. First, you're terrific people. Thanks for letting me be a part of this evening."

A chorus of "Here, here" followed, accompanied by the clink of wineglasses. Only Annabelle remained silent and suspicious, but what he was about to say should wipe that frown right off her face.

"I wasn't fortunate enough to grow up with a family like yours. I think all of you know how lucky you are to have one another." He gazed at Annabelle, but she was trying to find her napkin, which Adam had passed under the table to Doug. He waited until her head came back up.

"It's been almost five months since you barged into my office wearing that awful yellow suit, Annabelle. In that time, you've turned my life upside down."

Kate's hand shot out, bracelets jangling. "If you'll just be patient, I'm sure she'll do her very best to make things right. Annabelle is an extremely hard worker. Granted, her professional methods might not be what you're accustomed to, but her heart's in the right place."

Doug snapped a pen from his pocket. "I'm planning to go over all her records before I leave. With a little reorganization, a firmer hand on the reins, her operation should be stabilized in no time."

Annabelle set her chin in her hand and sighed.

"This isn't about Perfect for You," Heath said.

They regarded him blankly.

"She renamed her company," he said patiently. "It's no longer Marriages by Myrna. She calls it Perfect for You."

Adam gazed at her in puzzlement. "Is that true?"

Candace adjusted an earring. "Couldn't you have found something catchier?"

"I don't remember hearing about this," Doug said.

"Neither do I." Chet set down his coffee cup. "Nobody tells me anything."

"I told you," Kate replied tartly. "Unfortunately, I didn't have it announced on the Golf Channel."

"What kind of company?" Lucille said.

While Adam explained that his sister was a matchmaker, Doug pulled out his BlackBerry. "I'm sure it didn't occur to you to investigate trademark protection."

Heath realized he was losing them, and he turned up the volume. "The point is… Until I met Annabelle, I thought I had my life figured out, but it didn't take her long to point out that I'd made some serious errors in my calculations."

Kate winced. "Oh, dear. I know she's not always tactful, but she means well."

Annabelle picked up Adam's wrist and looked at his watch. Heath wished she had a little more trust. "I know everyone here recognizes how special Annabelle is," he said, "but I haven't known her as long, and it took me a while to figure it out."

Annabelle went after a gravy spot on the tablecloth.

"Just because I was slow to catch on," he said, "doesn't mean I'm stupid. I recognize quality when I see it, and Annabelle is an amazing woman." Now he had her full attention, and he got that familiar adrenaline rush that signaled the final moments before he closed on a deal. "I know today is your birthday, sweetheart, and that means you should be the one getting the present instead of me, but I'm feeling greedy." He turned, first to one end of the table, and then to the other. "Chet, Kate, I'd like to ask permission to marry your daughter."

Shocked silence fell over the room. A candle sputtered. A spoon clattered against a dish. Annabelle sat frozen while the rest of her family gradually came back to life.

"Why would you want to marry Annabelle?" Candace wailed.

"But I thought you were-"

"Oh, sweetheart…"

"Marry her?"

"Our Annabelle?"

"She never said anything about-"

Kate dove for her tissues. "This is the happiest moment of my life."

"Permission granted, Champion."

Grinning, Doug reached across the table to poke his mother. "Make it a Christmas wedding before he realizes what he's gotten into and changes his mind."

Heath stayed focused on Annabelle, giving her time to adjust. Her lips formed a lopsided oval; her eyes turned into puddles of spilled honey… And then her eyebrows slammed together. "What are you talking about?"

At the very least, he'd expected a joyous gasp. "I want to marry you," he said again.

Her frown grew more ominous, and he found himself remembering Annabelle seldom did what he expected, something he should possibly have recalled before he'd stood up.

"And when did you have this magical revelation?" she asked. "No, let me guess. Tonight after you met my family."

"Wrong." Here, at least, he was on solid ground.

"Then when?"

"Last weekend, at the party."

Disbelief shone in her eyes. "Why didn't you say something then?"

Too late, he realized he should have stuck with his original plan, but he refused to let himself panic. Always meet strength with strength. "I'd only broken up with Delaney a few hours earlier. It seemed a little premature."

"This whole thing seems a little premature."

Kate braced her hand on the tablecloth. "Annabelle, you're being peevish."

"That doesn't begin to describe how I feel." He winced as Annabelle shot up from her chair. "Did anybody hear him mention the L-word? Because I sure didn't."

Just like that, she'd cornered him. Had he really thought she wouldn't notice? Was that why he'd decided to do this in front of her family? He began to sweat. If he didn't handle this exactly right, the whole deal would collapse around him. He knew what he had to do, but at the precise moment when he most needed to keep his head, he lost it. "I hired the Northwestern marching band?"

Stunned silence greeted this revelation.

He'd made himself look like an ass. Annabelle shook her head with a quiet dignity that unnerved him. "You have lost your mind. I only wish you could have done it privately."

"Annabelle!" Kate's neck was turning red. "Just because Heath doesn't want to air his most intimate feelings in front of virtual strangers doesn't mean he's not in love with you. How could anybody not love you?"

Annabelle kept her eyes locked with his. "Here's what I've learned about pythons, Mother. Sometimes it's more important to pay attention to what they don't say than to what they do."

Kate came to her feet. "You're too upset to discuss this now. Heath is a wonderful man. Just look at the way he fits in. Wait until tomorrow when you've had a chance to cool down, and then the two of you can talk this through."

"Save your breath," Doug muttered. "All you have to do is look at her, and you know she's going to blow it."

"Come on, Spud," Adam pleaded. "Tell the guy you'll marry him. For once in your life, do the smart thing."

Help from her brothers was the last thing Heath needed. These were guys you wanted by your side in a foxhole, not around a pissed-off female. Proposing in front of her family was the worst idea he'd ever had, but deals had turned sour on him before, and he'd still managed to pull them off. All he needed to do was get her alone… and avoid the one topic she'd most want to discuss.