Match Me If You Can

He'd already explained that Annabelle had been more enraged than hysterical, but the concept of rage seemed foreign to Delaney, which didn't bode well for the times when he had to watch the Sox lose another close one.

'It sounds like some kind of party.' She pressed the bell, but nobody was going to hear anything over the hip- hop music blaring from inside, and he reached in front of her to push the door open.

As they stepped inside, he saw Sean Palmer and half a dozen of his Bears teammates draped around Annabelle's reception room, which wasn't alarming in itself, but through the door leading to the kitchen, he spotted another batch of players, all of them Chicago Stars. Annabelle's office seemed to be neutral territory with five or six players not exactly mingling, but scoping one another out from opposite corners while Annabelle stood in the middle of the archway. Heath could see why she might be nervous. Neither team had forgotten last year's controversial call that had given the Stars a narrow and highly disputed victory over their rivals. He couldn't help wondering what part of her brain had been on vacation when she'd let all of these guys in at the same time.

'Hey, everybody, Jerry Maguire's here.'

Heath responded to Sean Palmer's greeting with a wave. Delaney moved a little closer to his side.

'How come you ain't got no cable, Annabelle?' Eddie Skinner protested over the top of the music. 'You got cable upstairs?'

'No,' Annabelle retorted, pushing her way into the reception room. 'And get your big-ass shoes off my sofa cushions this minute.' She did a one-eighty, her finger pointed like a gun at Tremaine Russell, the best running back the Bears had seen in a decade. 'Use a freakin' coaster under your glass, Tremaine!'

Heath stood back and grinned. She looked like a harried Cub Scout den mother, hands on hips, red hair flying, eyes shooting firecrackers.

Tremaine snatched up his glass and wiped the end table with the sleeve of his designer sweater. 'Sorry, Annabelle.'

Annabelle caught Heath's grin and marched forward, pinning her wrath on him. 'This is all your fault. You have at least four clients here, none of whom I knew personally a year ago. If it weren't for you, I'd be just another fan watching them destroy each other from a safe distance.'

Her hissy fit was getting everybody's attention, and someone turned the music down so they could all listen in. She jerked her head toward the kitchen. 'They've drunk everything in the house, including a pitcher of African violet plant food I'd just mixed up and was stupid enough to leave on the counter.'

Tremaine punched Eddie in the shoulder. 'I told you it tasted weird.'

Eddie shrugged. 'Tasted okay to me.'

'They've also ordered hundreds of dollars' worth of Chinese food, which I do not intend to see all over this rug, so everybody is going to… eat in the kitchen!'

'And pizza.' Jason Kent, a Stars second stringer, called out from someplace near the refrigerator. 'Don't forget we ordered pizzas, too.'

'When did my house turn into a hangout for every grossly overpaid, terminally pampered professional football player in northern Illinois?'

'We like it here,' Jason said. 'It reminds us of home.'

'Plus, no women around.' Leandro Collins, the Bears' first-string tight end emerged from the office munching on a bag of chips. 'There's times when you need a rest from the ladies.'

Annabelle shot out her arm and smacked him in the side of the head. 'Don't forget who you're talking to.'

Leandro had a short fuse, and he'd been known to take out a ref here and there when he didn't like a call, but the tight end merely rubbed the side of his head and grimaced. 'Just like my mama.'

'Mine, too,' Tremaine said with happy nod.

Annabelle spun on Heath. 'Their mother! I'm thirty-one years old, and I remind them of their mothers.'

'You act like my mother,' Sean pointed out, unwisely as it transpired, because he got a swat in the head next.

Heath exchanged sympathetic looks with the boys, then gave Annabelle his full attention, speaking softly and patiently. 'Tell me how this happened, sweetheart.'

Annabelle threw up her hands. 'I have no idea. In the summer it was just Dean dropping in. Then he brought Jason and Dewitt with him. Then Arte asked me to keep my eye on Sean, so I invited him over-just once, mind you-and he showed up with Leandro and Matt. A Star here, a Bear there… One thing led to another. And now I have a potentially deadly riot on my hands, right in the middle of my living room.'

'I told you not to worry about that,' Jason said. 'This is neutral territory.'

'Yeah, right.' Her nostrils flared. 'Neutral territory until somebody gets mad, and then you guys'll be all, 'We're sorry, Annabelle, but you seem to be missing your front windows and half the second floor.''

'Only person's been mad since we got here is you,' Sean muttered.

Annabelle's expression turned so hilariously murderous that Eddie snorted beer-or maybe African violet fertilizer-right out through his nose, which cracked everybody up.

Annabelle lunged for Heath, grabbing his shirtfront in her fists, pulling herself up on her toes, and hissing at him through clenched teeth. 'They're going to get drunk, and then one of these idiots is going to plow his Mercedes into a car full of nuns. And I'll be liable. This is Illinois. We have host laws in this state.'

For the first time Heath was disappointed in her. 'Didn't you get their keys?'

'Of course I got their keys. Do you think I'm nuts? But-'

The front door blew open, and Mr. Hot Shit Robillard waltzed in all decked out in Oakleys, diamonds, and cowboy boots. He gave a two-finger wave like the fucking king of England.

'Oh, shit. Kill me now.' Annabelle's grip on his shirt tightened. 'Somebody's going to take him out tonight. I can feel it. He'll end up with a broken arm or crippled, and then I'll have to deal with Phoebe.'

Heath gently pried her fingers loose. 'Relax. Lover Boy can take care of himself.'

'All I wanted was to be a matchmaker. Is that so hard to understand? A simple matchmaker.' She slumped back on her heels. 'My life is crap.'

Leandro frowned. 'Annabelle, you're starting to get on my nerves.'

Three long strides brought Robillard to her side. He gave Heath a long look, then looped his arm around Annabelle and kissed her hard on the lips. Fury exploded behind Heath's eyelids. His right hand curled into a fist, but this was Annabelle's house, and she'd never forgive him if he did what he wanted to.

'Annabelle's my woman,' Dean announced as he broke the kiss and gazed into her eyes. 'Anybody gives her trouble has to deal with me… and my offensive line.'

Annabelle looked annoyed, which made Heath feel a hell of a lot better. 'I can take care of myself. What I can't deal with is a house full of drunken morons.'

'That is so harsh,' Eddie said, looking injured.

Dean stroked her shoulder. 'You guys know how irrational pregnant women can get.'

Way too many heads started nodding.

'Did you take that test like I told you, baby doll?' Dean slipped his arm around her again. 'Do you know yet if you're carryin' my love child?'

Apparently that was too much for Annabelle, because she started to laugh. 'I need a beer.' She grabbed Tremaine's bottle and drained what was left.

'You shouldn't drink if you're pregnant,' Eddie Skinner said with a frown.

Leandro swatted him in the head.

Heath realized he was having the best time he'd had in weeks.

Which reminded him of Delaney.

Annabelle had been too preoccupied to spot her through the crowd, and Delaney hadn't moved from her place inside the front door. She stood with her back to the wall and that ever-pleasant smile frozen on her face, but her eyes were glazed and just a little wild. Delaney Lightfield, horsewoman, champion trapshooter, golfer, and expert skier, had just glimpsed her future, and she didn't like what she saw.

'Don't anybody let me eat more than one egg roll.'

Annabelle set her empty bottle on a stack of magazines. 'I can hardly zip my jeans now.' She rolled her eyes at Eddie, who was frowning at her. 'And I'm not pregnant.'

Robillard still wanted to make trouble. 'Only because I haven't been trying hard enough. We'll take care of that