Match Me if You Can (19 page)

That cracked ’em all up. Even Darnell.

Finally, they quieted down. Webster got his Coke, Dan found a fresh bottle of ketchup, and the discussion turned right back to where everybody except Darnell wanted it to be.

Football.

A
fter lunch, the book club took a walk around the campground and continued their discussion of the biographies of the famous women they’d read. Annabelle had dug into both Katharine Graham’s and Mary Kay Ash’s books. Phoebe had concentrated on Eleanor Roosevelt, Charmaine on Josephine Baker, Krystal on Coco Chanel. Janine had read several biographies of cancer survivors, and Sharon had explored the life of Frida Kahlo. Molly, predictably, had chosen Beatrix Potter. As they talked, they related the women’s lives to their own, looked for common themes, and examined each woman’s survival skills.

After their walk, they returned to Kevin and Molly’s private gazebo. Janine began setting out an assortment of old magazines, catalogs, and art supplies. “We did this in my cancer support group,” she said. “It was pretty revealing. We’re going to cut out words and pictures that appeal to us and assemble them into individual collages. When we’re done, we’ll talk about them.”

Annabelle knew a land mine when she saw one, and she was very careful what she chose. Unfortunately, not careful enough.

“That man looks a lot like Heath.” Molly pointed to a hunky model in a Van Heusen shirt Annabelle had pasted in the upper left corner of her poster.

“He does not,” Annabelle protested. “He represents the kind of male clients I want Perfect for You to attract.”

“What about that bedroom furniture?” Charmaine pointed out a Crate & Barrel sleigh bed. “And the little girl and the dog?”

“They’re on the other side of the paper. Professional life. Personal life. Totally separate.”

Luckily, the dessert tray arrived just then, so they stopped interrogating her, but even a slab of lemon cake didn’t stop her from lambasting herself for last night. Had she been born stupid or was this a skill she’d worked to acquire? And one more night stretching in front of her…

T
winz!”

Heath winced as he spotted the pint-size demon from the blue lagoon clomping toward him through the sand in a polka-dot bathing suit, her red rubber boots, and a baseball cap that came down so far over her ears only the curly ends of her blond hair peeked out from beneath. He grabbed the newspaper from under his beach chair and pretended not to see her.

The guys had played a couple of games of pickup basketball after lunch, then Heath had gone back to the cottage to make some phone calls. Afterward, he’d pulled on his trunks and headed for the beach, where they were supposed to meet the women later for a swim before they all headed to town for dinner. Despite the time he’d spent on the phone, he’d started to feel as though this really was a vacation.

“Twinz?”

He pulled the newspaper closer to his face, hoping Pippi would go away if he ignored her. She was unpredictable, and that made him uncomfortable. Who knew what she’d come up with next? Off to his left, Webster and Kevin tossed a Frisbee with some of the kids who were staying at the campground. Darnell lay on a Mickey Mouse beach towel, engrossed in a book. Small, sandy fingers tapped Heath’s arm. He turned a page.

“Twinz?”

He kept his eyes on the headlines. “No twins here.”

She tugged on the leg of his swim trunks and said it for the fourth time, except this time it sounded like
pwinz,
and that’s when he got it.
Prince
. She was calling him Prince. And wasn’t that just cuter than crap?

He peered at her around the side of the paper. “I didn’t bring my phone.”

She beamed at him and patted her little round stomach. “I got a baby.”

He dropped the paper and looked frantically around for her father, but Kevin was showing a skinny kid with a bad haircut how to get more mileage from the Frisbee.

“Hey, Pip.”

He whipped around to the sound of a familiar female voice and saw the cavalry walking toward him in the form of his sexy little matchmaker, delectably dressed in a modestly cut white bikini. A rainbow-colored plastic heart gathered the material between her breasts into pleats, and a second heart, this one larger and printed directly on the fabric, nested next to her hip. He couldn’t see a hard edge or sharp angle anywhere. She was all pliant curves and soft contours: narrow shoulders, nipped waist, round hips, and thighs that she, being a woman, undoubtedly thought were too fat, but he, being a man, judged extremely nuzzle-able.

“Belle!” Pippi squealed.

He swallowed. “I’ve never been happier to see a person in my life.”

“Why’s that?” Annabelle stopped next to his chair but refused to look directly at him. She hadn’t forgotten about last night, which was fine with him. He didn’t want her to forget, proving her point that he was a snake, but not an unredeemable one. As much as he’d enjoyed himself—and he’d definitely enjoyed himself—there’d be no repeat performance. He was bad, but not that bad.

“Guess what?” Pippi went through the stomach-rubbing routine again. “I got a baby in my tummy.”

Annabelle looked interested. “No kidding? What’s its name?”

“Daddy.”

Heath winced. “That’s why.”

Annabelle laughed. Pippi sprawled in the sand and picked at a dab of blue polish on her big toe. “Pwinz don’t have his phone.”

Annabelle sat in the sand next to her, looking puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

Pippi patted Heath’s calf with a sandy hand. “Pwinz. He don’t have his phone.”

Annabelle gazed up at him. “I understand about the phone part, but what’s that other thing she’s saying?”

Heath gritted his teeth. “Prince. That’s me.”

Annabelle grinned and hugged the little troublemaker, who launched into a monologue about how Daphne the Bunny used to come into her bedroom and play but wouldn’t come anymore because Pippi was too big. As Annabelle tilted her head to listen, her hair brushed his thigh, and he nearly jumped out of his chair.

Pippi finally ran off to join her father and demand he go in the water with her. He was agreeable, although they had a small dispute about the boots, which he eventually won.

“I love that kid.” Annabelle’s expression held a trace of longing. “She’s got a lot of spirit.”

“Which is bound to get her into trouble when she’s incarcerated.”

“Will you stop it?”

Her hair brushed his thigh again. He could only handle so much stimulation, and he shot up. “I’m going swimming. Want to join me?”

She sent a longing glance toward the lake. “I think I’ll stay here.”

“Come on, girly-girl.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Unless you’re afraid to get your hair wet?”

Quick as a flash, she jerked free and raced for the water. “Last one to the raft is an obsessive-compulsive fathead.” She plunged in and set off. He was right after her. Although she was a good swimmer, he had her on endurance. Still, he made himself back off when they got close so she could win.

As she touched the ladder, she rewarded him with one of those Annabelle grins that took over her whole face. “Sissy boy got beat.”

That was too much, and he dunked her.

They horsed around like that for a while, climbing up on the raft, diving in, and attacking each other. Growing up with older brothers had taught her more than a few dirty tricks, and her expression of glee when she got the best of him was priceless. Once again, she tried to make him tell her what the
D
in his middle name stood for. He refused and got a face full of water. The horseplay gave him a good excuse to get his hands on her, but he finally lingered too long, and she pulled back.

“I’ve had enough. I’m going back to the cottage to rest up before dinner.”

“I understand. You’re not as young as you used to be.”

But he couldn’t bait her, and she swam away. He watched as she waded toward the beach. Her bathing suit rode up, revealing two round, water-slicked cheeks. She reached around and slipped her finger under the leg openings to tug it back into place. He groaned and dove under, but the water wasn’t nearly cold enough, and it took awhile before he settled down.

When he got back to the beach, he spent some time shooting the bull with Charmaine and Darnell, but all the while he was conscious of Phoebe lazing on a chaise a few yards away. She wore a big straw hat, a low-cut one-piece black suit with a tropical print sarong wrapped around her waist, and an invisible
DO NOT DISTURB
sign. He decided it was time to make his move and excused himself from the Pruitts to wander over. “Mind if I pull up some sand so we can talk?”

Her lids dropped behind a pair of sunglasses with pink lenses. “And my day was going so well until now.”

“All good things have to come to an end.” Instead of taking the empty chaise next to her, he gave her the advantage of the superior position and sat on an abandoned towel in the sand. “I’ve been curious about something ever since that party for the kids.”

“Oh?”

“How did a dragon lady like you end up with a sweetheart like Hannah?”

For once, she laughed. “Dan’s gene pool.”

“Did you hear Hannah talking to the girls about the balloons?”

She finally looked at him. “I guess I missed that conversation.”

“She said that if their balloons broke, they could cry if they really wanted to, but all it meant was that a grumpy fairy had stuck a pin in them. Where does she come up with stuff like that?”

She smiled. “Hannah has quite an imagination.”

“I’ll say. She’s a special kid.”

Even the toughest moguls were pushovers when it came to their children, and the ice cracked a little more. “We worry about her more than the others. She’s so sensitive.”

“Considering who her parents are, I’m guessing she’s a lot tougher than you think.” He should have been ashamed of himself for laying it on so thick, but Hannah really was a great kid, and he didn’t feel too bad about it.

“I don’t know. She feels things pretty deeply.”

“What you call sensitive, I call having people smarts. Once she graduates from ninth grade, send her to me and I’ll give her a job. I need somebody to put me in touch with my feminine side.”

Phoebe laughed, a sound of genuine amusement. “I’ll think about it. Might be useful to have a spy in the enemy camp.”

“Come on, Phoebe. I was a cocky kid trying to show everybody how tough I was. I blew it, and we both know it. But I haven’t screwed you over once since then.”

A shadow fell over her face. “Now, you’ve moved on to Annabelle.”

Just like that, their fragile camaraderie evaporated. He spoke carefully. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“You’re using her to get to me, and I don’t like it.”

“It’s hard to use Annabelle. She’s pretty sharp.”

Phoebe shot him her no-nonsense look. “She’s special, Heath, and she’s my friend. Perfect for You means everything to her. You’re making things messy.”

A fairly accurate assessment, but a knot of anger still formed under his breastbone. “You don’t give her enough credit.”

“She doesn’t give herself enough credit. That’s what makes her vulnerable. Her family’s convinced her she’s a failure because she’s not earning six figures. She needs to be concentrating on making her business work, and I’m getting the feeling you deliberately turned yourself into a bad distraction.”

He forgot that he never let himself get defensive. “Exactly what do you mean by that?”

“I saw how you were looking at her last night.”

The insinuation that he might deliberately hurt Annabelle stuck in his craw. He wasn’t his father. He didn’t use women, and he especially didn’t use a woman he liked. But he was dealing with Phoebe Calebow, and he couldn’t afford to lose his temper, so he dug into his always reliable supply of self-control …and came up empty. “Annabelle’s my friend, and I don’t make it a habit of hurting my friends.” He pushed to his feet. “But then you don’t know me well enough to figure that out, do you?”

As he stalked away, he called himself every name in the book. He never lost it. He absolutely never fucking lost it. Yet he’d basically just told Phoebe Calebow to go to hell. And for what? Because enough truth lurked in what she’d said to hurt. The fact was, he’d committed a foul, and Phoebe had dropped a penalty flag on him.

A
nnabelle waited for Heath on the front porch at the B&B along with Janine, whom she’d invited to ride into town with them for dinner. Annabelle had stayed in her bedroom at the cottage until she’d heard Heath come in. As soon as the shower started running, she’d jotted a quick note, left it on the table, and slipped out. The less time she spent alone with him the better.

“Any ideas about Krystal’s mysterious surprise?” Janine straightened the clasp on her silver necklace as they sat in the porch rockers.

“No, but I hope it’s fattening.” Annabelle didn’t really care what the surprise was, as long as it kept her away from Heath after dinner.

He pulled up in the car, and Annabelle insisted Janine sit with him in the front. On their way into town, he asked about her books. He’d never read a word she’d written, but by the time they reached the inn, he’d convinced her she had everything it took to be the next J. K. Rowling. The weird thing was, he seemed to believe it. No question that the Python was a powerful motivator.

The Wind Lake Inn’s rustic north woods decor complemented a varied menu of beef, fish, and game. Conversation was lively, and Annabelle limited her alcohol consumption to a single glass of wine. As they dug into their entrées, Phoebe asked the men how their book discussion had gone. Darnell opened his mouth to respond, his gold tooth flashing, only to have Dan cut in. “So much came up, I don’t even know where to start. Ron?”

“It was intense, all right,” the Stars’ general manager said.