As he gazed across the table at her, his throat tightened with pride. He'd never seen her look so beautiful or so sexy, but then his thoughts always seemed to take that direction. Her bare shoulders gleamed in the candlelight, and he wanted to lick the sprinkle of freckles on that graceful little nose. Her shiny swirl of hair reminded him of autumn leaves, and his fingers ached to rumple it. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his outdated, misdirected notions of what made up a trophy wife, he would have realized months ago the place she occupied in his life. But it had taken last weekend's party to open his eyes. Annabelle made everybody happy, including him. With Annabelle, he remembered that life was about living, not just about work, and that laughter was as precious a commodity as cash.
He'd canceled a morning's worth of appointments to pick out her engagement ring, only two and a half carats because her hands were small, and lugging three carats around all day might leave her too tired to take off her clothes at night. He'd planned exactly how he intended to propose to her, and this morning he'd put the first part of that plan in motion.
He'd hired the Northwestern University Marching Band.
He envisioned exactly how it would unfold. Right now, she was angry, so he had to make her forget that, up until a few weeks ago, he'd intended to marry Delaney Lightfield. He had a pretty good idea Annabelle loved him. The Dean Robillard scam proved that, didn't it? And if he was wrong, he'd make her love him… starting tonight.
He'd kiss her breathless, carry her upstairs to that attic bedroom, turn Nana to the wall, and make love with her until they were both senseless. Afterward, he'd follow up with a boatload of flowers, some ultraromantic dates, and a slew of salacious phone calls. When he was absolutely certain he'd crumbled the last of her defenses, he'd invite her to a special dinner at Evanston's top restaurant. After she'd been lulled by good food, champagne, and candlelight, he'd tell her he wanted to see her old college hangouts and suggest a walk around the Northwestern campus. Along the way, he'd pull her into one of those big arched doorways, kiss her, probably feel her up a little because, who was he kidding, there was no way he could kiss Annabelle without touching her. Finally, they'd reach the campus lakefront, and that's where the Northwestern marching band would be waiting, playing something old-fashioned and romantic. He'd drop down on one knee, pull out the ring, and ask her to marry him.
He held on to the image, savored it, and then, with a pang of regret, let it go. There'd be no marching band, no proposal by the lakefront, not even a ring to seal the exact moment he asked her to marry him, since the one he'd chosen wouldn't be ready until next week. He was abandoning his perfect plan because, after meeting the Granger family and seeing how much they meant to one another-how much Annabelle meant to them-he knew they had to be part of this.
The waiter disappeared, leaving them with fresh coffee and dessert. Across the table Annabelle was hissing at St. Louis's preeminent heart surgeon, who'd twisted a lock of her hair around his finger and announced he wouldn't let go until she told everyone about the time she wet her pants at Laurie somebody's birthday party.
Heath rose to his feet. Adam dropped Annabelle's hair, and she kicked him under the table. "Ouch!" Adam rubbed his leg. "That hurt!"
"Good."
"Children…"
Heath smiled. He loved this. "I hope nobody minds, but I have a couple of things to say. First, you're terrific people. Thanks for letting me be a part of this evening."
A chorus of "Here, here" followed, accompanied by the clink of wineglasses. Only Annabelle remained silent and suspicious, but what he was about to say should wipe that frown right off her face.
"I wasn't fortunate enough to grow up with a family like yours. I think all of you know how lucky you are to have one another." He gazed at Annabelle, but she was trying to find her napkin, which Adam had passed under the table to Doug. He waited until her head came back up.
"It's been almost five months since you barged into my office wearing that awful yellow suit, Annabelle. In that time, you've turned my life upside down."
Kate's hand shot out, bracelets jangling. "If you'll just be patient, I'm sure she'll do her very best to make things right. Annabelle is an extremely hard worker. Granted, her professional methods might not be what you're accustomed to, but her heart's in the right place."
Doug snapped a pen from his pocket. "I'm planning to go over all her records before I leave. With a little reorganization, a firmer hand on the reins, her operation should be stabilized in no time."
Annabelle set her chin in her hand and sighed.
"This isn't about Perfect for You," Heath said.
They regarded him blankly.
"She renamed her company," he said patiently. "It's no longer Marriages by Myrna. She calls it Perfect for You."
Adam gazed at her in puzzlement. "Is that true?"
Candace adjusted an earring. "Couldn't you have found something catchier?"
"I don't remember hearing about this," Doug said.
"Neither do I." Chet set down his coffee cup. "Nobody tells me anything."
"I told you," Kate replied tartly. "Unfortunately, I didn't have it announced on the Golf Channel."
"What kind of company?" Lucille said.
While Adam explained that his sister was a matchmaker, Doug pulled out his BlackBerry. "I'm sure it didn't occur to you to investigate trademark protection."
Heath realized he was losing them, and he turned up the volume. "The point is… Until I met Annabelle, I thought I had my life figured out, but it didn't take her long to point out that I'd made some serious errors in my calculations."
Kate winced. "Oh, dear. I know she's not always tactful, but she means well."
Annabelle picked up Adam's wrist and looked at his watch. Heath wished she had a little more trust. "I know everyone here recognizes how special Annabelle is," he said, "but I haven't known her as long, and it took me a while to figure it out."
Annabelle went after a gravy spot on the tablecloth.
"Just because I was slow to catch on," he said, "doesn't mean I'm stupid. I recognize quality when I see it, and Annabelle is an amazing woman." Now he had her full attention, and he got that familiar adrenaline rush that signaled the final moments before he closed on a deal. "I know today is your birthday, sweetheart, and that means you should be the one getting the present instead of me, but I'm feeling greedy." He turned, first to one end of the table, and then to the other. "Chet, Kate, I'd like to ask permission to marry your daughter."
Shocked silence fell over the room. A candle sputtered. A spoon clattered against a dish. Annabelle sat frozen while the rest of her family gradually came back to life.
"Why would you want to marry Annabelle?" Candace wailed.
"But I thought you were-"
"Oh, sweetheart…"
"Marry her?"
"Our Annabelle?"
"She never said anything about-"
Kate dove for her tissues. "This is the happiest moment of my life."
"Permission granted, Champion."
Grinning, Doug reached across the table to poke his mother. "Make it a Christmas wedding before he realizes what he's gotten into and changes his mind."
Heath stayed focused on Annabelle, giving her time to adjust. Her lips formed a lopsided oval; her eyes turned into puddles of spilled honey… And then her eyebrows slammed together. "What are you talking about?"
At the very least, he'd expected a joyous gasp. "I want to marry you," he said again.