He didn't try to stop her as she left the dock. When she reached the sand, she crisscrossed her sweater over her chest and hurried toward the woods, ordering herself not to look back. But as she stepped onto the path, she couldn't help herself.
The dock stood empty. Everything still. The only movement came from a bunch of balloons drifting off into the bleak October sky.
It didn't take her long to pack. A tear dripped on her hand as she zipped the suitcase. She was so sick of crying. She picked up the bag and made her way numbly out the front door. With each step she took, she reminded herself that she'd never give up who she was for anyone. She came to a dead stop. Especially not for a man who'd blocked in her car with a sporty silver Audi…
He'd done a good job of it. A giant oak kept her from moving forward, and the Audi prevented her from going in reverse. The temporary Illinois tags left no doubt whose work this was. She couldn't bear another encounter with him, and she dragged her suitcase back inside the cottage, but she'd barely set it down before she heard tires on gravel. She went to the window, but it wasn't Heath. Instead, she glimpsed a dark blue sports car coming to a stop behind the Audi. The woods extended just far enough to block her view of whichever guest had decided to explore the campground.
It was all too much. She sank down on the couch and buried her face in her hands. Why did he have to make everything harder?
Light footsteps tapped on the porch, too light to be Heath's. She heard a knock. Dragging her feet, she rose, crossed the room, opened the door… and screamed. To her credit, it wasn't a horror movie scream, more of a yelpy kind of gaspy thing.
"I know," a familiar voice said. "I've had better days."
Annabelle took an involuntary step backward. "You're blue."
"A cosmetic procedure. It's beginning to peel. May I come in?"
Annabelle moved aside. Even without her blue face, which had begun to crack like a cheap alligator purse, Portia hardly looked her best. Her inky hair lay flat against her head, clean but not styled. Her white sweater had a fresh coffee stain on the front. She'd gained weight, and her jeans were a size too tight.
Portia took in the cottage. "Have you talked to Heath?"
"What are you doing here?"
Portia walked toward the kitchen and poked her head in and out. "Claiming my last introduction. You chose Delaney Lightfield. I choose you. Welcome to Power Matches. Let's see if we can find you some makeup? And a decent outfit wouldn't hurt, either."
"You're nuts."
She gave Annabelle a surprisingly cheerful smile. "Yes, but not as nutty as I used to be. It's interesting. Once you've terrified a restaurant full of people-a Burger King near Benton Harbor-you're basically liberated from ever again worrying about keeping up appearances."
"You went into a Burger King looking like this?"
"Potty stop. Plus Bodie dared me."
"Bodie?"
She smiled, her blue lips making her very nice teeth look a little yellow. "We're lovers. More than lovers. In love. Bizarre, I know, but I've never been happier. We're getting married. Well, he hasn't agreed yet, but he will." She studied Annabelle more closely and frowned. "From those red eyes, I can see you talked with Heath and that it didn't go well."
"It went very well. I told him no and walked away."
Portia threw up her hands. "Why am I not surprised? Well, as of now, playtime is over. You amateurs have had your fun, but it's time to step aside and let a professional handle this."
"You have clearly lost your mind, not to mention your looks."
Surprisingly, Portia didn't take offense. "My looks will be back in spades. Wait till you see what's underneath all this."
"I'll have to take your word for it."
"I told Heath not to talk to you without me, but he's pigheaded. And you… Of all people, you should have known to be more sensitive. Haven't you learned anything about this business? Two different men have ordered me not to call you a twit, but, honestly, Annabelle, if the shoe fits…"
She marched to the door. "Thanks for stopping by. Sorry you have to leave so soon."
Portia sat on the arm of the couch. "Do you have any idea how much courage it took for him to accept the fact that he's fallen in love with you, let alone to come here and lay his heart on the line? And what did you do? Tossed his feelings right back in his face, didn't you? Extremely unwise, Annabelle, especially with Heath. He's very emotionally insecure. From what Bodie's told me, I suspect that's exactly what his subconscious expected you to do, and I don't think he'll have the guts to ask you again."
"Insecure? He's the cockiest man in the universe." But Portia had shaken her confidence, and the floor no longer felt quite so steady. "He doesn't love me," Annabelle said more forcefully. "He just can't stand hearing anybody say no to him."
"You're so wrong." A voice spoke from behind her. She whipped around to see Bodie framed in the door. Unlike Portia, he was pulled together from head to toe in a gray sweater, great fitting jeans, and motorcycle boots.
Annabelle went on the attack. "Did Heath send you to talk to me? It would be just like him to delegate another one of those messy personal tasks he dislikes so much."
"She's a bit of a bitch," Portia said to Bodie, as if Annabelle weren't in the room.
He lifted an eyebrow. "Babe."
Portia held out her hand. "I know, I know… If she were a man, she'd be labeled aggressive. But honestly, Bodie, sometimes a bitch is just a bitch."
"Exactly."
Portia seemed amused. "Point taken."
He chuckled, and Annabelle began to feel like a tagalong at her own crisis. Bodie finally managed to drag his eyes away from Blue Girl. "Heath doesn't know either one of us is here. I only found out where he'd gone through an accidental telephone conversation I had with Kevin's kid." He slipped his arm around Portia's shoulders. "The thing is, Annabelle… What if Portia's right? And, let's face it, she has more experience with this kind of crap than you do. Just because she has a history of screwing up her own life-which I'm happy to say she's working through-doesn't mean she hasn't made a success out of other peoples' lives. Bottom line-there's a fairly simple way to settle this."
Fighting both of them had exhausted her already diminished resources, and Annabelle slumped into the sofa. "Nothing's simple when it comes to that man."
"This time it is," he said. "I caught a glimpse of him heading for that path that goes around the lake."
The same path she'd planned to walk this afternoon.
"Go after him," Bodie said, "and when you find him, ask him two questions. When you hear his answers, you'll know exactly what to do."
"Two questions?"
"That's right. And I'm going to tell you exactly what they are…"
Water from the soggy leaves seeped into Annabelle's sneakers, and her teeth had begun to chatter, more from nerves, she suspected, than the chill. She might be making the worst mistake of her life. She couldn't see anything special about the questions Bodie had posed, but he'd been adamant. As for Portia… The woman was scary. Annabelle wouldn't have been surprised to see her pull a handgun from her purse. Portia and Bodie were the weirdest couple she'd ever seen, and yet they seemed to understand each other perfectly. Apparently, Annabelle had a lot more to learn about being a matchmaker. She had to admit Portia was growing on her. How could you hate a woman who was so willing to put herself on the line?
The path grew steeper as it climbed toward the rocky bluff that jutted over the water. Molly said she and Kevin came here sometimes to dive. Annabelle paused as she rounded the bend to catch her breath. That was when she saw Heath. He stood on the rocky ledge gazing out at the lake, his jacket pushed back, his fingertips stuffed in his back pockets. Even unkempt and disheveled, he was magnificent, an alpha male at the top of every game he played, except the most important one.