Contents ( 33)
- Match Me If You Can
- Susan Elizabeth Phillips
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- ALSO BY SUSAN ELIZABETH PHILLIPS
- Credits
- Copyright
“Insecure? He’s the cockiest man in the universe.” But Portia had shaken her confidence, and the floor no longer felt quite so steady. “He doesn’t love me,” Annabelle said more forcefully. “He just can’t stand hearing anybody say no to him.”
“You’re so wrong.” A voice spoke from behind her. She whipped around to see Bodie framed in the door. Unlike Portia, he was pulled together from head to toe in a gray sweater, great fitting jeans, and motorcycle boots.
Annabelle went on the attack. “Did Heath send you to talk to me? It would be just like him to delegate another one of those messy personal tasks he dislikes so much.”
“She’s a bit of a bitch,” Portia said to Bodie, as if Annabelle weren’t in the room.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Babe.”
Portia held out her hand. “I know, I know …If she were a man, she’d be labeled aggressive. But honestly, Bodie, sometimes a bitch is just a bitch.”
“Exactly.”
Portia seemed amused. “Point taken.”
He chuckled, and Annabelle began to feel like a tagalong at her own crisis. Bodie finally managed to drag his eyes away from Blue Girl. “Heath doesn’t know either one of us is here. I only found out where he’d gone through an accidental telephone conversation I had with Kevin’s kid.” He slipped his arm around Portia’s shoulders. “The thing is, Annabelle…What if Portia’s right? And, let’s face it, she has more experience with this kind of crap than you do. Just because she has a history of screwing up her own life—which I’m happy to say she’s working through—doesn’t mean she hasn’t made a success out of other peoples’ lives. Bottom line—there’s a fairly simple way to settle this.”
Fighting both of them had exhausted her already diminished resources, and Annabelle slumped into the sofa. “Nothing’s simple when it comes to that man.”
“This time it is,” he said. “I caught a glimpse of him heading for that path that goes around the lake.”
The same path she’d planned to walk this afternoon.
“Go after him,” Bodie said, “and when you find him, ask him two questions. When you hear his answers, you’ll know exactly what to do.”
“Two questions?”
“That’s right. And I’m going to tell you exactly what they are…”
Water from the soggy leaves seeped into Annabelle’s sneakers, and her teeth had begun to chatter, more from nerves, she suspected, than the chill. She might be making the worst mistake of her life. She couldn’t see anything special about the questions Bodie had posed, but he’d been adamant. As for Portia…The woman was scary. Annabelle wouldn’t have been surprised to see her pull a handgun from her purse. Portia and Bodie were the weirdest couple she’d ever seen, and yet they seemed to understand each other perfectly. Apparently, Annabelle had a lot more to learn about being a matchmaker. She had to admit Portia was growing on her. How could you hate a woman who was so willing to put herself on the line?