“Caller ID.”

She should never have called him. She cocked her head. “I hear your lord and master has gone off for the weekend with my rival.”

“News travels. This place is nice.”

The neediest part of her lapped up his feeble words of praise, but she remained outwardly impassive. “I know.”

He gazed toward the reception desk. “Nobody handed you a thing, did they?”

“I’m not afraid of hard work. Women competing in business need to be tough or they won’t survive.”

“Somehow I can’t see anybody giving you too much trouble.”

“You have no idea. Successful women are always judged by a different standard than men.”

“It’s your breasts.”

She’d never had a sense of humor about sexism, and she was shocked to feel herself smile, but his cocky, unrepentant machismo was difficult to resist.

“Show me the place,” he said.

She did. He poked his head around the parchment screens, took in the quota charts she kept on a wall of the break room, asked questions. She heard the faint sound of Spanish as the workers decided they’d tortured her enough for today and left by the back staircase. She needed to know more about Heath’s weekend away, but she waited until she led Bodie into her private office before she broached the subject.

“I’m surprised Heath didn’t make you go with him this weekend. Apparently you’re not as indispensable as you like to believe.”

“I get a few days off now and then.”

“I came in today because of him.” She gestured toward her computer. “Little Miss Granger can wine and dine him for all she’s worth, but I’m the one who’ll find his wife.”

“Probably.”

She perched on the edge of her desk. “Tell me about the women he’s dated in the past. He’s not very forthcoming.”

“I don’t want to talk about Heath.” He moved to the window, gazed out at the street, then pulled the drapery cord. The panels closed in a soft whoosh. He turned back toward her, and his eyes—so pale and remote they should have turned her to ice—felt like a warm balm to her shriveled soul.

“Take off your clothes,” he whispered.

Chapter Seventeen

The week after the disastrous Wind Lake retreat, Annabelle immersed herself in work to keep from obsessing over what had happened. The Perfect for You Web site was up and running, and she received her first e-mail inquiry. She met separately with Ray Fiedler and Carole, who weren’t going to be a love match but had learned something from each other. Melanie Richter, the Power Matches candidate Heath had rejected, agreed to have coffee with Shirley Miller’s godson. Unfortunately, Jerry was intimidated by her Neiman’s wardrobe and refused to ask her out again. A few more senior citizens arrived at her door, taking up too much of her time and doing nothing to improve her bottom line, but she understood loneliness, and she couldn’t turn them away. At the same time, she knew she needed to think bigger if she intended to make a living wage. She examined her bank account balance and decided she could just afford to throw a wine and cheese party for her younger clients. All week, she waited for Heath to call. He didn’t.