“Again, nothing a condom wouldn’t take care of.” She picked up a blue plastic watering can and carried it over to Nana’s African violets.

“The guys are young. They think they’re invincible. I know in Annabelle Land everybody’s nice and sweet, but there are more avaricious women in the world than you can imagine.”

Annabelle stopped watering to gaze at him. “Did one of those avaricious women find her way into your pockets? Is that why you’re so picky?”

“By the time I’d earned enough to be a target, I’d learned how to watch out for myself.”

“Just out of curiosity …Have you ever been in love? With a woman,” she said hastily, so he didn’t start throwing the names of his clients at her.

“I was engaged in law school. It didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

“The pain’s too fresh for me to revisit,” he drawled.

She made a face at him, and he smiled. His cell rang. As he answered, she realized he looked more at home sitting at her desk than she did. How did he manage it? Somehow, he found a way to mark whatever space he occupied. He might as well lift his leg when he walked into a room.

She finished watering the African violets and headed for the kitchen, where she unloaded Nana’s cranky dishwasher. The doorbell rang, and a few moments later Heath appeared with the pizza. She gathered up plates and napkins. He retrieved another beer for himself and one for her and carried them over to the table.

As he sat, he gazed at the blue enameled cupboards and Hello Kitty cookie jar. “I like this place. It’s homey.”

“Tactfully phrased. I know I should update, but I haven’t gotten around to it.” She could barely afford paint, let alone a major remodeling.

They began to eat, and the silence that settled over them was surprisingly comfortable. She wondered what he was doing for the Fourth tomorrow. He polished off his first slice and took another. “How is it, Annabelle, that you’ve managed to get close to the two people who are most important to me right now? What is it with you?”

“Natural charm coupled with the fact that I have a life, and you don’t.” Not much of a life. On Wednesday night, Mr. Bronicki had bullied her into attending the seniors’ potluck at the rec center. She’d only agreed after he’d promised to take Mrs. Valerio out again.

Heath swiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “What did Robillard say about me?”

She nibbled on her crust. This, she reminded herself, was the reason he’d suggested their cozy dinner party. “He said you’re numero uno on his do-not-call list. Pretty much a direct quote. But you probably already know that.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I was too busy drooling. God, he’s gorgeous.”

He frowned. “Dean Robillard isn’t one of those naive kids I was talking about. You watch yourself with him. He goes through women like potato chips.”