As painful as it was, she knew he was an emotional investment she could no longer afford. For months, she’d tried to convince herself that her feelings for him centered more on lust than love, but it wasn’t true. She loved him in so many ways she’d lost count: his basic decency, his humor, the way he understood her. But his emotional hang-ups had roots a mile deep, and they’d caused him irreparable damage. He was capable of absolute loyalty, of total dedication, of offering strength and comfort, but she no longer believed he was capable of love. She had to cut him out of her life.

The phone rang. If Dean was canceling, she’d never forgive him. She rushed into her office and snatched up the receiver before the voice mail could kick in. “Hello?”

“This is personal, not business,” Heath said, “so don’t hang up. We have to talk.”

Just the sound of his voice made her heart leap. “Oh, no, we don’t.”

“You fired me,” he said calmly. “I respect that. You’re not my matchmaker any longer. But we’re still friends, and in the interest of our friendship, we need to discuss page thirteen.”

“Page thirteen?”

“You’ve accused me of being arrogant. I’ve always thought of myself as confident, but I’m here to tell you, no more. After studying these pictures…Honey, if this is what you’re looking for in a man, I don’t think any of us are going to measure up.”

She had a sinking feeling that she understood exactly what he was talking about, and she sank down on the corner of her desk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Who knew flexible silicone came in so many colors?”

Her sex toy catalog. He’d taken it months ago. She’d hoped he’d forgotten it by now.

“Most of these products seem to be hypoallergenic,” Heath went on. “That’s good, I guess. Some with batteries, some without. I suppose that’s a matter of preference. There’s a harness on this one. That’s pretty kinky. And…Son of a bitch! It says this one is dishwasher safe. As much as I like—I’m sorry, but there’s just something unappetizing about that.”

She should hang up, but she’d missed him so much. “Sean Palmer, is that you? If you don’t stop talking dirty, I’m telling your mother.”

He didn’t bite. “The top of page fourteen …That model comes with some kind of pump. You’ve got the corner turned down, so you must be interested.”

She was fairly sure she hadn’t turned any pages down, but who knew?

“And how about this one with the suction cup? The question is, exactly what would you stick it to? A word of caution, sweetheart. You suction something like that to your bedroom window or, hell, the dashboard of your car—it’s going to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

She smiled.

“Just tell me one thing, Annabelle, and then I have to go.” His voice dropped to a low, intimate note that made her shiver. “Why would a woman be so interested in an artificial one when the real thing works a hell of a lot better?”