The Dragon Lady was good. Annabelle had to give her that.

Heath turned his attention to Annabelle. No one could have imagined that he’d fallen asleep in her attic bedroom two nights ago, or that once, in a pretty cottage by the side of a Michigan lake, they’d made love. “Annabelle, you’ve done a better job screening, and you’ve introduced me to a lot of also-rans, but you haven’t produced a single winner.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, he cut her off. “Gwen doesn’t count.”

Unlike Portia, Annabelle thrived on being defensive. “Gwen was almost perfect.”

“As long as we overlook her husband and that inconvenient pregnancy.”

Portia sat straighter in her chair. Annabelle crossed her hands primly in her lap. “You have to admit she was exactly what you’re looking for.”

“Yeah, bigamy’s my life’s dream, all right.”

“You cornered me,” she replied. “And, let’s be honest. Once she got to know you, she’d have dumped you. You’re way too high maintenance.”

Portia’s eyes had widened like butterfly wings. She studied Annabelle more closely. Then she got a little twitchy. She uncrossed the legs she’d crossed, crossed them again. Her top foot—the one in the navy sling-back—began tapping away. “I’m sure Annabelle has learned by now to be more careful with her background checks.”

Annabelle pretended surprise. “I was supposed to check Heath’s background?”

“Not Heath’s background,” Portia retorted. “The women!”

Heath fought a smile. “Annabelle is baiting you. I’ve learned it’s best to ignore her.”

Now Portia looked genuinely rattled. Annabelle almost felt sorry for her as she watched the navy sling-back move faster and faster.

Heath, in the meantime, made a sprint for the goal line. “Here’s the way it’s going to be, ladies. I made a mistake by not signing contracts with a shorter term, but it’s a mistake I’m correcting right now. You each have one shot left. That’s it.”

The sling-back froze. “When you say one shot…”

“One introduction each,” Heath said firmly.

Portia twisted in her chair, knocking the Kate Spade handbag over with her heel. “That’s not realistic.”

“Work with it.”

“Are you sure you really want to get married?” Annabelle said. “Because, if you do, maybe you should think about the possibility—more than a possibility, in my judgment, but I’m trying to be diplomatic …Have you thought about the possibility that you’re the one who’s sabotaging this process, not us?”

Portia shot her a warning look. “Sabotage is a strong word. I’m sure what Annabelle means to say is that—”

“What Annabelle means to say”—she rose from her chair—“is that we introduced you to some terrific women, but you only gave one of them a chance. The wrong one—again, only my opinion. We’re not magicians, Heath. We have to work with flesh-and-blood human beings, not some fantasy woman you’ve conjured in your mind.”

Portia plastered a phony smile on her face and rushed to save the sinking ship. “I hear what you’re saying, Heath. You’re not satisfied with the service you’ve been getting from Power Matches. You want us to vet the candidates more carefully, and that’s certainly a reasonable request. I can’t speak for Miss Granger, but I promise that I’ll proceed more conservatively from now on.”