He thought it over. “Robillard. Guy’s a sleaze.”

She glowered at him. “I wasn’t that out of it. You copped a feel when you unzipped them.”

He couldn’t have looked repentant if he tried. “Hand slipped.”

She sank down at the kitchen table. “Did I imagine it, or was Delaney here last night?”

“She was here.”

“Why didn’t she stay and help out?”

Now came the tricky part. He made a play of rooting around in the cupboard for something to eat, even though he knew she’d been cleaned out. After he’d shuffled around a couple of cans of stewed tomatoes, he closed the door. “The whole thing was a little too much for her.”

She sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

Too late, he realized he should have been figuring out how he wanted to spin this instead of hiding African violets and standing in front of the refrigerator reading inspiring quotes from Oprah. Maybe a shrug would help stave off this particular discussion until she was wide awake. He gave it a try.

It didn’t work.

“I don’t understand.” Annabelle untucked the leg she’d crooked under her hip and started looking worried. “She told me she was starting to like football.”

“As it turns out, not when it’s quite so up close and personal.”

The lines on her forehead deepened. “I’ll coach her through it. They’re only intimidating if you let them get the upper hand.”

He shouldn’t smile, but wasn’t this exactly why his new plan would work so much better than the old one? From the very beginning, Annabelle had made him happy, but he’d been so focused in the wrong direction that he hadn’t understood what that meant. Annabelle wasn’t the woman of his dreams. Far from it. His dreams had been the product of insecurity, immaturity, and misdirected ambition. No, Annabelle was the woman of his future…the woman of his happiness.

His clearer vision told him she wouldn’t take his news about Delaney well, especially when he couldn’t quite rein in his smile. “The thing is…Delaney and I are over.”

Annabelle’s coffee mug dropped to the table with a thud, and she rose from the chair. “No. You’re not over. This is just a bump in the road.”

“I’m afraid not. Last night she got a good look at my life, and what she saw didn’t make her happy.”

“I’ll fix it. Once she understands—”

“No, Annabelle,” he said firmly. “This one can’t be fixed. I don’t want to marry her.”

She exploded. “You don’t want to marry anyone!”

“That’s not…exactly true.”

“It is true. And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.” Her arms started to flail. “You’re making me crazy, and I can’t take it anymore. You’re fired, Mr. Champion. This time I’m firing you.”

It was an impressive display of temper, so he proceeded cautiously. “I’m a client,” he pointed out. “You can’t fire me.”

She bored into him with those honey eyes. “I just did.”

“In my defense, I had good intentions.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the jeweler’s box. “I was planning to propose last night. We were at Charlie Trotter’s. The food was great, the mood perfect, and I had the ring. But just as I got ready to give it to her…you called.”