He just wished he liked it more. Maybe he should have hired a decorator instead of waiting, but he’d done that with his old place—cost a fortune, too—and he hadn’t liked the results. The interior might have been impressive, but he’d felt weird there, like a visitor in somebody else’s house. He’d sold everything when he moved here so he could start new, but now he wished he’d held on to enough furniture to keep the place from echoing.

Bodie picked up a water bottle. “Word is, she’s a ballbuster.”

“Gwen?” Heath stepped on the treadmill.

“Powers. High employee turnover rate.”

“Seems like a good businesswoman to me. She also does some volunteer work mentoring other women.”

“If she’s so good, why aren’t you letting her sit through any of her introductions like you made Annabelle do last week?”

“I tried once, but it didn’t work. She’s pretty wired, a little hard to take in big doses. But she’s sent along some decent candidates, and she knows how to get the job done.”

“That explains all those second dates you haven’t asked anybody out on.”

“Sooner or later I will.”

Bodie wandered into the kitchen. He had a condo in Wrigleyville, but sometimes came over here so they could work out together.

Heath turned up the treadmill speed. He and Bodie had been together almost six years now. After his motorcycle injury, Bodie had lost himself in drugs and self-pity, but Heath had admired him as a player, and he’d hired him to be a runner. Good runners tended to be former athletes, men the college players knew by reputation and trusted. Agents used them to bring potential clients to the table. Although Heath hadn’t spelled it out, Bodie had known he had to get sober first, and that’s what he’d done. Before long, his no-bullshit style had turned him into one of the best.

Bodie had started driving for him accidentally. Heath spent a lot of hours on Chicago’s tollways, heading up to Halas Hall, out to Stars headquarters, or making endless trips to and from O’Hare. He hated wasting time stuck in traffic jams, and Bodie liked being behind the wheel, so Bodie’d started taking over when it was convenient for both of them. With Bodie driving, Heath could make phone calls, answer e-mail, and handle paperwork, although, just as frequently, they used their time to strategize, and this was where Bodie earned the six-figure income Heath paid him. Bodie’s intimidating appearance hid a highly analytical mind—cool, focused, and unsentimental. He’d become Heath’s closest friend, and the only person Heath completely trusted.

Bodie returned from the kitchen with a beer. “Your matchmaker doesn’t like you.”

“I care.”

“I think you amuse her, though.”

“Amuse her?” Heath lost his rhythm. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Ask her, not me.”

“I’m not asking her a damn thing.”

“It’ll be interesting to see who she comes up with next. You sure didn’t like that brunette Powers introduced you to last week.”