Match Me If You Can

He rolled toward her, onto his side, trapping all but a loop of lacy strap under his hip.

She started to perspire. She knew this was insane, but she couldn't make herself walk away. Another floorboard creaked as she knelt at the side of the bed, the same floorboard that creaked every time she stepped on it, so she should have been more careful. Her heart was pounding. She pressed down on the mattress with one hand and slipped her finger through the loop of strap sticking out from under his hip with the other. She pulled hard.

One heavy eyelid drifted open, and his sleep-rusty voice made her jump. 'Either get in here with me or go away.'

'This is'-she pulled a little harder-'my bed.'

'I know. I'm resting.'

He didn't look like he was resting. He looked like he'd settled in for the night. With her underwear. Which refused to budge. 'Could I…'

'I'm dead on my feet.' His eyes drifted shut. 'You can have your bed back in the morning. Promise.' His voice faded on a slur.

'Okay,but…'

'Go 'way,' he muttered.

'I will. First, though, would you mind-'

He rolled to his back again, which should have freed the bra but didn't. Instead, it wedged between his hip and hand.

'I, uh, need one little thing. Then I won't bother you any-'

His fingers clamped her wrist, and this time when his lids opened, his eyes were completely focused. 'What do you want?'

'My bra back.'

He lifted his head and glanced to his side, still holding her wrist. 'Why?'

'I'm a neat freak. Messy rooms drive me crazy.' She yanked hard and jerked it free.

Heath gazed at the bra dangling from her fingers. 'Are you going somewhere tonight?'

'No, I-' She'd awakened the sleeping lion for sure, and she wadded the bra in her hands, trying to make it invisible. 'Go back to sleep. I'll take Nana's bed.'

'I'm awake now.' He propped himself on his elbows. 'Usually I can see through your latest craziness, but I have to say, this time you've got me stumped.'

'Just forget it.'

'One thing I do know…' He nodded toward her hand. 'This isn't about a bra.'

'That's what you think.' She scowled at him. 'Until you've walked a mile in my shoes, don't judge.'

'Judge what?'

'You wouldn't understand.'

'I spend most of my life around football players. You'd be surprised how many weird things I understand.'

'Not this weird.' Try me.

The stubborn set of his mouth told her he wasn't going to let this go, and she had no explanation but the truth. 'I can't stand seeing…' She swallowed and licked her lips. 'It's hard for me to see… uh… female lingerie too near a man's hand. That is… when the lingerie isn't actually on a female body.'

He groaned and sank back into her pillows. 'Oh, my God. Don't tell me.'

'It upsets me.' Which was putting it mildly.

She knew he'd laugh, and he did, a big sound that bounced around the attic's odd angles.

She stared him down.

He threw his feet over the side of the bed. 'You're afraid I'm going to start cross- dressing?'

Hearing it spoken aloud made her wince. How had she lived to be thirty-one years old without someone locking her up? 'Not afraid exactly. But… The thing is… Why expose yourself to temptation?'

He loved that.

She understood his amusement-she'd be amused herself if she were him-but she couldn't find a smile anywhere. Dispirited, she turned back toward the stairs. His laughter faded, and another floorboard creaked as he came up behind her. He set his hands on her shoulders. 'Hey, you really are upset, aren't you?'

She nodded.

'I'm sorry. I spend too much time in locker rooms. I won't tease you anymore. I promise.'

His sympathy was worse than his teasing, but she turned into his chest all the same. He stroked her hair, and she told herself to back away, but she felt as though she belonged exactly where she was. And then she grew aware of the powerful erection pressing against her body.

So did he. He quickly stepped back, abruptly releasing her. 'I'd better go downstairs so you can have your bedroom back,' he said.

She managed a shaky nod. 'Okay.'

He picked up his shoes, but he didn't leave right away. Instead, he made his way to her desk and gestured toward the magazines stacked on top. 'I like to read before I fall asleep. I don't suppose you've got a spare copy of Sports Illustrated lying around?'

' 'Fraid not.'

'Of course you don't. Why would you?' His hand shot out. 'I'll take this instead?'

And there went her sex toy catalog.

Heath smiled to himself as he set off down the stairs, but his smile had faded by the time he reached Nana's bedroom. What the hell was he doing here? He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a chair. He hadn't planned on showing up at Annabelle's door, but the past week had been brutal. With the preseason about to begin, he'd flown all over the country, touching base with each of his clients. He'd played big brother, cheerleader, lawyer, and shrink. He'd endured flight delays, car rental mix-ups, bad food, loud music, too much booze, and not enough sleep. Tonight, when he'd gotten into the cab, the image of his empty house looming in front of him had been more than he could handle, and he'd heard himself giving the driver Annabelle's address.

This sense that he was thrashing around threatened his mental toughness. He'd signed with Portia in May, Annabelle early in June. Now it was mid-August, but he was no closer to reaching his goal than when he'd started. As he unzipped his pants, he knew that his frustrating breakup with Keri proved one thing. He couldn't keep going on like this, not with the football season starting, not if he wanted to stay mentally sharp. The time had come to make some changes…

Portia watched the woman's breasts leak into the platter of raw oysters, a steady drip, drip, drip. An ice sculpture of a classical female figure might have made sense in the abstract, but tonight's silent auction and cocktail party benefited a shelter for abused women, and watching a woman melt into the hors d'oeuvres sent the wrong message. The restaurant's air-conditioning couldn't handle either the ice sculpture or the crowd, and Portia was hot even in her strapless dress. She'd bought the short red cocktail number just that afternoon, hoping something new and extravagant would lift her spirits, as if a new dress could fix what was wrong with her. She'd been so optimistic about Heath and Keri, basking in the publicity they'd stirred up. She should have realized they were too much alike, but she'd lost her instincts right along with her passion for manufacturing other people's happy endings.

She felt scattered and depressed, sick of Power Matches, sick of herself and of everything that had once given her so much pride. She moved away from the buffet table and the disappearing woman. She had to pull herself together before the meeting Heath had set up for tomorrow morning. Why had he called it? Probably not to sing her praises. Well, she refused to lose this thing. Bodie said she was obsessed. Just tell Heath to go to hell. She'd tried to explain that failure bred failure, but Bodie had grown up in a trailer park, so some things didn't compute with him.

She'd been trying with little success not to think about Bodie. They'd become creatures of the dark. For the past month, they'd seen each other several times a week, always at her place, always at night, a couple of sex- crazed vampires. Whenever Bodie suggested they go out to dinner or to a movie, she made an excuse. She could no more explain Bodie and his tattoos to her friends than she could explain the bizarre need she sometimes felt to parade him in front of everyone. It had to end. Any day now, she'd break it off.

Toni Duchette appeared at her elbow, fresh blond chunks in her short brown hair, fireplug figure stuffed into a