"Glad you like it," he drawled. "Unfortunately, I'm not giving tours today."

She resisted the urge to run her fingertip over the dab of shaving cream that clung to his earlobe. "That's all right. I'll look around while you finish getting dressed." She gestured toward the stairs. "Go on. Don't let me interrupt you."

"Annabelle, I don't have time to talk now."

"Squeeze me in," she said with her snarkiest smile.

The toothpaste had begun to bubble at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. His gaze slid over her bare shoulders down to the fitted bodice of her sundress. "I haven't been avoiding you. I was going to call you back this afternoon."

"No, really, take as long as you need. I'm not in any hurry." She waved him away and headed toward the living room.

He grumbled something that sounded blasphemous, and, a moment later, she heard his bare feet padding upstairs. She peeked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of a glorious pair of shoulders, a naked back, and a purple towel. Only when he disappeared did she return her attention to the living room.

Morning light splashed through the tall wedge of windows and dappled the pale hardwood floors. It was a beautiful space just begging to be lived in, but except for the gym equipment sitting on blue rubber mats, as empty as the foyer. No furniture, not even a sports poster on the wall. As she took it in, she began to see the room as it should be: a massive stone-topped coffee table sitting in front of a big, comfy sofa; chairs upholstered in spicy colors; splashy canvases on the walls; a streamlined CD cabinet; books and magazines strewn about. A kid's pull toy. A dog.

With a sigh, she reminded herself that she'd ambushed him this morning so they could get past their weekend at the lake. The old adage of being careful what you wished for sprang to mind. She'd wanted people to know that Heath had signed with Perfect for You, and the word had spread. Now, if she lost him as a client, everyone would assume she hadn't been good enough to keep him. Everything rested on how she handled herself this morning.

She passed through the empty dining room into the kitchen.

The counters were clear, the stainless-steel European appliances looked unused. Only the dirty glass in the sink signaled human habitation. She was struck by the notion that Heath had a place to live, but he didn't have a home.

She returned to the living room and gazed through the windows toward the street. A piece of the puzzle that made up the man she'd fallen in lust with settled into place. Because he was always on the move, she'd missed the fact that he was basically a loner. This unfurnished house brought his emotional isolation into focus.

He reappeared wearing gray slacks, a midnight blue shirt, and a patterned necktie, everything so perfecdy pulled together he could have stepped out of a Barneys ad. He tossed his suit coat across the weight bench, set down the coffee she'd brought, and shot his cuffs. "I wasn't ditching you. I needed some time to reassess, and I'm not apologizing for it."

"Apology accepted." His frown didn't bode well, and she quickly shifted gears. "I'm sorry things didn't work out better with Phoebe at the lake. Despite what you might think, I was rooting for you."

"We had half a decent conversation." He picked up the coffee.

"What happened to the other half?"

"I let her push my buttons."

She'd have enjoyed hearing the details, but she needed to get rolling before he started looking at the watch peeking out from under his shirt cuff. "Okay, here's the real reason I'm here-and if you'd called me back, I wouldn't have had to bother you. I need to know if you said anything to anybody about you-know-who. If you did, I swear I'll never speak to you again. I told you in the strictest confidence. Truly, I'd die of embarrassment."

"Tell me you didn't barge in here to talk about Dream Boy."

She pretended to fidget with her ring, a turquoise Nana had bought in Santa Fe. "So do you think Dean might like me?"

"Gosh, I don't know. Why don't you wait till study hall and ask your girlfriends?"

She tried to appear offended. "I'm looking for the male perspective, that's all."

"Get it from Raoul."

"We're over. He was screwing around on me."

"Like everybody in town didn't already know that?"

Okay, they'd had their fun. She sank down on the edge of the weight bench. "I know you think Dean is too young for me…"

"Your age is only one item on a bullet list of calamities waiting to happen if you don't get past this. And I haven't seen Lover Boy, so your secret is safe. Are we done yet?"

"I don't know. Are we?" She rose from the bench. "The thing is… I'm afraid you still might be dealing with some emotional issues from the retreat, which, I'm sorry to say, is making you seem a little girly."

"Girly?" A dark eyebrow slashed upward.

"Only one woman's opinion."

"You think I'm being girly? You, the queen of Annabelle Junior High?"

"You haven't returned my calls."

"I wanted to think about it."

"Exactly." She advanced on him, working up a righteous head of steam. "Obviously you're still conflicted about my night of sexual liberation, but you're too macho to admit it. I should never have taken advantage of you. We both know that, but I thought you were okay with it. Apparently you're not."

"I'm sure this'll disappoint you," he said dryly, "but I wasn't traumatized by your rape and pillage."

"I respect you for holding on to your pride," she said primly.

He frowned. "Cut the crap. You were crystal clear about mixing business and pleasure, and you were right. We both know that. But Krystal threw her porn party, I don't like having people say no to me, and the rest is history. I'm the one who took advantage. The reason I haven't called is that I still haven't figured out how to make it up to you."

She hated the idea that he was seeing her as a victim. "Not by running, that's for sure. Smacks a little too much of the boss who sleeps with his secretary and then fires her for it."

She had the satisfaction of seeing him wince. "I'd never do that," he said.

"Great. Block off every evening starting tomorrow. We're kicking off with a brainy econ professor who looks a little like Kate Hudson, finds Adam Sandier at least mildly amusing, and knows a wineglass from a water goblet. If you don't like her, I have six more lined up. Now are you back in the game or are you wimping out?"

He didn't let her bait him. Instead, he wandered over to the windows, sipping his coffee and taking his time, no doubt thinking over how complicated this had gotten. "Are you sure about going on?" he finally said.

"Hey, I'm not the one who got all worked up. Of course I'm sure." What a lie. "I have a business to run, and frankly, you're making that difficult."

He shoved his hand through his hair. "All right. Set it up."

"Perfect." She gave him a smile so big her cheeks ached. "Now, down to business…"

They made their arrangements, setting up days and times, and she escaped as soon as they were done. On the drive back home, she made a promise to herself. From now on, she'd seal her emotions away where they belonged. In an internal Ziploc bag-extra heavy duty.

The next afternoon, Heath followed Kevin between the tables in the hotel ballroom as the quarterback shook hands, slapped backs, and worked the crowd of businesspeople who'd gathered to eat lunch and hear his motivational speech,

"Throwing the Long Ones in Life." Heath stayed just behind him, ready to intercede if anyone tried to get too up close and personal, but Kevin made it to the front table without incident.

Heath had heard his speech a dozen times, and as Kevin took his seat, he returned to the rear of the ballroom. The introductions began, and Heath's mind wandered back to Annabelle's ambush yesterday morning. She'd burst into his house, filling up the place with her sass, and despite what he'd said, he'd been glad to see her. All the same, he hadn't lied when he'd told her he'd needed time to think things over, including how he could torpedo that infantile crush she had on Dean Robillard. If she didn't come to her senses soon, Heath was going to lose all respect for her. Why did women leave their brains behind when it came to Dean?

Heath pushed away an uncomfortable memory of a former girlfriend saying exactly the same thing about him. He intended to have a pointed conversation with Dean to make sure Golden Boy understood Annabelle wasn't another bimbo he could stick in his trophy case. Except Heath was supposed to be courting Robillard, not antagonizing him. Once again, his matchmaker had put him in an impossible situation.

Kevin made a self-deprecating joke, and the crowd laughed. He had them right where he wanted, and Heath slipped into the hallway to check his messages. When he saw Bodie's number, he returned it first. "What's up?"

"A buddy of mine just phoned from Oak Street Beach," Bodie said. "Tony Coffield, remember him? His old man owns a couple of bars in Andersonville."

"Yeah?" Tony was one of a network of guys who fed Bodie information.

"So guess who else just showed up to catch some rays? None other than our good buddy Robillard. And it seems he's not alone. Tony says he's sharing a blanket with a red-haired chick. Cute, but not his usual type."

Heath backed against the wall and clenched his teeth.

Bodie chuckled. "Your little matchmaker sure knows how to keep herself busy."

Annabelle lifted her head from the sandy blanket and gazed over at Dean. He lay on his back, muscles bronzed and oiled, blond hair gleaming, eyes shaded by space-age sunglasses with bright blue lenses. A pair of bikini-clad women made their fourth pass, and this time it looked as though they'd worked up the nerve to approach. Annabelle caught their eyes, pressed her index finger to her lips indicating that he was sleeping, and shook her head. Disappointed, the women walked on.

"Thanks," Dean said, without moving his mouth.

"Does this job pay?"

"I bought you a hot dog, didn't I?"

She propped her chin on her fists and dug her toes deeper into the sand. Dean had called her yesterday, a few hours after she'd left Heath's house. He'd asked if she could squeeze in a trip to the beach before T-camp started. She had a million things to do to get ready for the dating marathon she had planned, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to feed the story of her infatuation in case Heath still had doubts.

"So explain it to me again," Dean said, eyes still shut. "About how you've been blatantly using me for your own nefarious purposes."

"Football players aren't supposed to know words like nefarious."

"I heard it on a beer commercial."

She smiled and adjusted her sunglasses. "All I'm saying is this. I got myself into a little jam-and, no, I'm not telling you who with. The easiest way to wiggle out was to pretend I'm smitten with you. Which, of course, I am."

"Bull. You treat me like a kid."

"Only to protect myself from your glory."

He snorted.

"Besides, being seen with you raises the profile of my business." She laid her cheek on her forearm. "It'll get people talking about Perfect for You, and free advertising is all I can afford right now. I'll pay you back. I promise." She reached over and patted one very hard, sun-warmed bicep. "Ten years from now, when we know for sure you've made it through puberty, I'm going to find you a great woman."

"Ten years?"

"You're right. We'll make it fifteen just to be safe."

Annabelle had a crappy night's sleep. She dreaded the start of Heath's dating marathon, but it was time to bite the bullet and hit him with everything she had. She arrived at Sienna's first. When he walked in, her heart gave a dopey little kick before it plunged to her toes. He'd been her lover, and now she had to introduce him to another woman.

He looked as grouchy as she felt. "I heard you played hooky yesterday," he said as he sat down.

She had hoped word of her outing with Dean would make its way back to him, and her spirits lifted. "Nope. I'm not saying a word." She made a zipping motion across her lips, turned the lock, and threw away the key.

His irritation deepened. "Do you know how juvenile that is?"

"You're the one who asked."

"All I said was that I heard you'd taken the day off. I was making conversation."

"I'm allowed to take a day off now and then. And Wind Lake doesn't count because I had to entertain a client. Specifically, you."

He got that sexy half-lidded look, the one that signaled he was about to say something raunchy. But then he seemed to think better of it. "So how is the course of true love progressing?"