The coffee she’d picked up at a Caribou on Halsted warmed her palm as she doubled-checked the address. Heath’s house took her breath away. The free-form glass-and-brick structure, with its dramatic two-story wedge of windows angling toward the shady street, somehow managed to fit in with its neighbors, both the exquisitely renovated nineteenth-century town houses and the newer luxury homes built on the narrow, expensive lots. She walked down the sidewalk, then turned into a short brick path that curved to a carved mahogany front door and rang the bell. As she waited, she tried to refine her strategy, but the lock clicked and the door swung open before she’d gotten too far.

He wore a purple towel and a scowl, which didn’t go away when he saw who’d come calling at 6:40 in the morning. He pulled the toothbrush from his mouth. “I’m not here.”

“Now, now.” She shoved the coffee into his free hand. “I’m starting a new company called Caffeine to Go Go. You’re my first customer.” She slipped past him into the foyer where an S-shaped staircase curved to a landing above. She took in the tumbled marble floors, the modern bronze chandelier, and the foyer’s only real furnishing, an abandoned pair of sneakers. “Wow. I’m totally awestruck but pretending not to be.”

“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.