She relayed this information with a charming, self-deprecating laugh that made Heath smile. At twenty-nine, Delaney reminded him of a blond, more athletic Audrey Hepburn. She wore a sleeveless navy cotton sweater dress with a strand of pearls that had belonged to her great-grandmother. She’d grown up in Lake Forest and graduated from Smith. She was an expert skier and a competent tennis player. She golfed, rode horseback, and spoke four languages. Although several decades of outdated business practices had depleted the Lightfield railroad fortune and forced the sale of the family’s summer house in Bar Harbor, Maine, she liked the challenge of making it on her own. She loved to cook and confessed that she sometimes wished she’d gone to culinary school. The woman of his dreams had finally appeared.

As the evening progressed, he switched from beer to wine, reminded himself to watch his language, and made it a point to mention the new Fauvist exhibit at the Art Institute. After dinner, he drove her back to the apartment she shared with two roommates and gave her a gentleman’s kiss on the cheek. As he drove away, the faint scent of French lavender lingered in the car. He grabbed his cell to phone Annabelle, but he was too revved to go home. He wanted to talk to her in person. Singing along with the radio in his off-key baritone, he headed for Wicker Park.

Annabelle opened the door. She wore a V-necked striped top and a blue mini that did great things for her legs. “I should have issued my ultimatum sooner,” he said. “You definitely know how to deliver under pressure.”

“I thought you’d like her.”

“Did she call you yet?”

Annabelle nodded but didn’t say more, and he tensed. Maybe the date hadn’t gone as well as he thought. Delaney was a blue blood. What if she’d caught too strong a whiff of the trailer park?

“I talked with her a few minutes ago,” Annabelle finally said. “She’s smitten. Congratulations.”

“Really?” His instincts had been on target. “That’s great. Let’s celebrate. How about a beer?”

Annabelle didn’t move. “It’s…not a good time.”

She glanced over her shoulder, and that’s when it hit him. She wasn’t alone. He took in her fresh lip gloss and the blue mini. His good mood fizzled. Who did she have with her?

He gazed over the top of her head, but the front room was empty. Which didn’t mean the same thing was true of her bedroom…He fought the urge to charge past her and see for himself. “No problem,” he said stiffly. “I’ll talk to you next week.”

But instead of walking away, he stood there. Finally she nodded and shut the door.

Five minutes ago he’d been on top of the world. Now he wanted to kick something. He headed down the sidewalk and climbed into his car, but it wasn’t until he edged out of his parking space that his headlights caught the vehicle across the street. Earlier, he’d been too preoccupied to notice, but he wasn’t preoccupied now.