“That, too.” He kissed her forehead. “There’s a hell of a woman hidden away behind all that fear. Why don’t you let her come out and play?”

Because she didn’t know how.

The tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe. “Go to hell.” Pushing past him, she took off down the street, half walking, half running. But he’d already seen her tears, and for that, she would never forgive him.

Bodie heard the sound of a baseball game coming from his television as he let himself into his Wrigleyville condo. “Make yourself right at home,” he muttered, tossing his keys on the mission-style table that sat in the foyer.

“Thanks,” Heath said from the big sectional sofa in Bodie’s living room. “Sox just gave up a run in the seventh.”

Bodie sank into the armchair across from him. Unlike Heath’s house, Bodie’s was furnished. Bodie liked the clean design of the Arts and Crafts period, and over the years he’d bought some good Stickley pieces and added Craftsman-style built-ins. He kicked off his shoes. “You should either sell your fucking house or live in it.”

“I know.” Heath set down his beer. “You look like shit.”

“A thousand beautiful women in this town, and I’ve got to fall for Portia Powers.”

“You set yourself up for grief that first night when you blackmailed her with that bodyguard bullshit.”

Bodie rubbed his hand over his head. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“If that woman ever realizes how scared you are of her, you’ll really be screwed.”

“She’s such a pain in the ass. I keep telling myself to walk away, but …Hell, I don’t know…It’s like I’ve got X-ray vision, and I can see who she really is underneath all the bullshit.” He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with saying so much, even to his best friend.

Heath understood. “Tell me we’re not sharing our feelings, Mary Lou.”

“Fuck you.”

“Shut up and watch the game.”

Bodie relaxed into the chair. Initially he’d been attracted by Portia’s beauty, then by her sheer gall. She had as much grit and determination as any teammate he’d ever played with, and those were qualities he respected. But when they made love, he saw another woman, one who was insecure, generous, and full of heart, and he couldn’t get past thinking that this softer, unguarded woman was the real Portia Powers. Still, what kind of idiot fell for someone who needed so badly to be fixed?

As a kid, he used to bring home injured animals and try to nurse them back to health. Apparently he was still doing it.

Chapter Nineteen

Annabelle had trouble finding a parking spot for Sherman, but she was only two minutes late for the meeting Heath had scheduled, which hardly justified the censorious look from his Evil Receptionist. ESPN played on the television screen in the lobby, phones rang in the background, and one of Heath’s interns struggled to change a printer cartridge in the equipment closet. The office door on her left had been closed the first time she was here, but now it stood open, and she saw Bodie with his feet propped on a desk and a telephone pressed to his ear. He waved as she passed. She opened the door to Heath’s office and heard a throaty female voice.