Portia finally remembered her own and touched the flattened mess. "With hair like hers, I suppose she can be forgiven a little vanity."

"She hates it," he said triumphantly. "I told you she was a nutcase."

"Yet this is the woman you chose to marry."

His anger faded. He felt wrung out, and he wanted another drink. "The whole thing sort of sneaked up on me. She's sweet, smart-really sharp, not just book smart. She's funny. God, but she makes me laugh. Her friends love her, and that tells you something right there, because they're incredible women. I don't know… When I'm with her, I forget about work, and…" He stopped. He'd already said too much.

Portia wandered to the fireplace, her coat gaping to reveal red sweatpants and what looked like a pajama top. Normally, he couldn't have taken a woman with a Smurf-blue face and an advanced case of bed head too seriously, but this was Portia Powers, and he kept his guard up, which was fortunate, because she hit him again. "But despite all that, you seem to love her."

He could barely control his turmoil. "Come on, Portia. You and I are two of a kind. We're both realists."

"Just because I'm a realist doesn't mean I don't believe love exists. Maybe not for everyone, but…" She made a small, awkward gesture that seemed out of character. "Your proposal must have thrown her for a loop. She loves you, of course. I had an inkling of that during our ill-fated meeting. I'm surprised she wasn't willing to overlook your emotional constipation and take you up on your offer."

"The fact that I wouldn't lie to her doesn't mean it wasn't a damn good offer. I'd have given her everything she needed."

"Except love. That's what she was waiting to hear, right?"

"It's a word! Action is what counts."

She nudged the scotch bottle he'd left on the floor with the toe of her shoe. "Has it occurred to you-and I'm merely asking because it's my job-it is possible Annabelle's the sane one, and you're the nutcase?"

"I think you'd better go home."

"And I think you're protesting too much. You've been introduced to a dazzling array of women, but Annabelle is the only one you've wanted to marry. That in itself has to give you pause."

"I looked at the situation logically, that's all."

"Oh, yes, you're the master of logic, all right." She stepped around the broken glass. "Come on, Heath. Cut the crap. I can't help you if you won't tell me the truth about that wall you've built around yourself."

"What is this? Shrink time?"

"Why not? God knows, your secrets are safe with me. It's not like I have an army of intimate friends waiting to tear them out of me."

"Believe me, you don't want to hear about my childhood traumas. Let's just say that, right around the time I turned fifteen, I figured out my survival depended on making sure I didn't keep throwing my heart at people. I backslid once, and I paid the price. Do you know what? It's turned out to be a saner way to live. I recommend it." He advanced on her. "I also resent like hell your implication that I'm some kind of coldblooded monster, because I'm not."

"Is that what you're hearing? You do have all the classic symptoms."

"Of what?"

"A man in love, of course."

He flinched.

"Look at yourself." Her voice softened, and he thought he heard a note of genuine sympathy. "This isn't about a deal gone bad. This is about your heart breaking."

He heard a roaring inside his head.

She walked to the window. Her words drifted back to him muffled, as if she were having a hard time getting them out. "I think… I think this is the way love feels to people like you and me. Threatening and dangerous. We have to be in control, and love takes that away. People like us… We can't tolerate vulnerability. But despite our best efforts, sooner or later love seems to catch up with us. And then…" She drew a jagged breath. "And then we fall apart."

He felt like he'd been sucker punched.

Slowly she turned back to him, her head high, silvery tracks running down her bright blue cheeks. "I'm claiming my introduction."

He heard what she was saying, but the words made no sense.

"You promised Annabelle and me one last introduction. Annabelle used hers up with Delaney Lightfield. Now it's my turn."

"You want to introduce me to someone? Now? After you've just told me I'm in love with Annabelle?"

"We have a deal." She swiped at her nose with the sleeve of her trench coat. "You're the one who outlined the terms, and I have a lovely young woman who's just what you need. She's high-spirited and intelligent. She's also impulsive and a little temperamental, which will keep you interested. Attractive, of course, like all Power Matches candidates. She has this amazing red hair…"

He wasn't usually so slow on the uptake, and he finally understood. "You want to introduce me to Annabelle?"

"Not want. I will," she said fiercely. "We have a deal. Your contract doesn't run out until midnight Tuesday."

"But-"

"You can't go any further by yourself. It's time for a professional to take over." Just like that, she ran out of steam, and a fresh tear rolled down her cheek. "Annabelle has… She has the breadth of character you lack. She's the woman who'll… keep you human. She won't put up■with anything less." Her chest rose as she drew a long, unsteady breath. "Unfortunately, you'll have to find her first. I made inquiries. She's not home."

The news jolted him. He wanted her tucked safely away in her grandmother's house. Waiting for him.

The pink seam of Portia's lips tightened below her damp blue cheeks. "Listen to me, Heath. As soon as you find her, call me. Don't try to handle this yourself. You need help. Do you understand me? This is my introduction."

Right now, the only thing he understood was the depth of his own foolishness. He loved Annabelle. Of course he loved her. This explained all these feelings he'd been too frightened to label.

He needed to be alone to think this through. Portia seemed to understand, because she tugged her trench coat closed and left the room. He felt like he'd been hit in the head with a fly ball. He sagged down in the chair and buried his head in his hands.

Portia's heels clicked on the marble floor in the foyer. He heard her open the front door, and then, unexpectedly, Bodie's voice.

"Fuck!"

Chapter Twenty-Three

Portia fell into Bodie's arms. Just fell. He wasn't expecting it, and he stumbled backward. She went with him, wrapped her arms around him, and wouldn't let him go. Not ever again. This man was solid as a rock.

"Portia?" He gripped her shoulders and pushed her a few inches away so he could study her face.

She gazed up into his horrified eyes. "Everything you said about me was right."

"I know that, but…" He ran his thumb over her papery blue cheek. "Did you lose a bet or something?"

She rested her head against his chest. "It's been a really bad couple of months. Could you just hold me?"

"I could do that." He pulled her close, and they stood like that for a while, surrounded by a pool of light from the copper porch fixtures. "A paintball game gone bad?" he finally asked.

She gripped him tighter. "An acid treatment. It burned so bad. I thought maybe I could… peel away the old me."

He rubbed the back of her neck. "Let's sit over there so you can tell me all about it."

She snuggled closer. "Okay. But don't let me go."

"I won't." True to his word, he kept his arm around her as he drew her across the street to the tiny neighborhood park with its single green iron bench. Even before they reached it, she began to talk, and as the dry leaves blew over their shoes, she told him everything: about the marshmallow chicks, about her acid peel, about Heath and Annabelle. She told him about getting fired as a mentor and about her fear.

"I'm scared all the time, Bodie. All the time."

He stroked her matted hair. "I know, babe. I know."

"I love you. Do you know that, too?"

"That I didn't know." He kissed the top of her head. "But I'm glad to hear it."

The tail of her scarf blew across her cheek. "Do you love me?"

"I'm afraid so."

She smiled. "Will you marry me?"

"Let me see if I can make it through the next few months without killing you first."

"Okay." She cuddled closer. "You might have noticed I'm not the most nurturing person."

"In your own odd way, you are." He pushed her scarf aside. "I still can't believe you had the guts to come out looking like this."

"I had ajob to do."

"I love a woman who's willing to take one for the team."

She heard only awe in his voice, and it made her love him even more. "I have to make this match, Bodie."

"Haven't you learned enough yet about the perils of ruthless ambition?"

"It's not exactly what you're thinking. The best part of me wants to do this for Heath. But I want to go out on a high note, too. One last match-this match-and then I'm selling my business."

"Really?"

"I need a new challenge."

"Lord, help us."

"I mean it, Bodie. I want to run free. Be wild. I want to go where my passion leads me. I want to work hard at something that only the strongest woman in the world can do."

"Okay, now I'm scared."

"I want to eat. Really eat. And to be kinder and more generous. Real generosity, without expecting anything in return. I want to have great skin when I'm eighty. And I don't ever again want to care what anybody thinks. Except you."

"Oh, God, I'm so turned on right now I'm going to explode." Abruptly, he pulled her from the bench. "Let's go back to my place. Now."

"Only if you promise not to tell me any of those bag-over-the-head sex jokes."