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hell of a lot more than three percent off the top.”
    Robillard didn’t blink. “The Zagorskis are guaranteeing me Nike. Can you do that?”
    “I never guarantee what I don’t have in my pocket.” He took a sip of beer. “I don’t bullshit my clients, at least about anything important. I also don’t steal from them, lie to them, or disrespect them behind their backs. There’s no agent in the business who works harder than I do. Not a one. And that’s all I’ve got to offer.” He rose, pulled out his money clip, and slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “If you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”
     
     
     
    W hen Heath got home that night, he pulled the smudged invitation from his dresser drawer. He kept it lying around as a reminder of the gut-wrenching pain he’d felt when he’d first opened it. He’d been twenty-three.
     
    You are cordially invited to attend the marriage of
     
    J ULIE A MES S HELTON
     
    and
     
    H EATH D. C AMPIONE
     
    The Silver Anniversary Celebration of
     
    V ICTORIA AND D OUGLAS P IERCE S HELTON III
     
    and
     
    The Golden Anniversary Celebration of
     
    M ILDRED AND D OUGLAS P IERCE S HELTON II
     

    Valentine’s Day
     
    6:00 P.M.
     
    The Manor
     
    East Hampton, New York
     
     
    The wedding planner had sent him the invitation by mistake, not realizing he was the groom, which spoke volumes all by itself. For the first time he’d discovered his marriage to Julie was just one cog of a well-oiled family production. All his securities came crashing in. He’d known it was too good to be true, Julie Shelton falling in love with a guy who was grubbing his way through law school by cleaning out septic tanks.
    “I don’t see why you’re so upset about this,” Julie had said when he’d confronted her. “The dates just worked out that way. You should be happy we’re keeping up the tradition. Getting married on Valentine’s Day is good luck in my family.”
    “This isn’t just any Valentine’s Day,” he retorted. “Golden anniversary, silver anniversary…What would you have done for a husband if I hadn’t come along on schedule?”
    “But you did, so I don’t see the problem.”
    He’d pleaded with her to change the date, but she’d refused. “If you love me, you’ll do this my way,” she’d said.
    He had loved her, but after a week of sleepless nights, he’d realized she only loved him as a convenience.
    The wedding had gone on with one of Julie’s childhood friends standing in as the third-generation Valentine’s Day groom. It had taken Heath months to recover. Two years later, the couple had divorced, putting a permanent end to Shelton family tradition, but he’d felt no satisfaction.
    Julie wasn’t the first person he’d given his heart to. As a kid, he’d given it away to everybody, beginning with his drunken father and continuing through the never-ending stream of transient women the old man had brought home. As each woman entered that beat-up trailer, Heath had prayed she’d be the one who’d make up for his mother’s death.
    When the women didn’t work out—and they never did—he’d given his love to the stray dogs that ended up as roadkill on the nearby highway, to the old biddy in the next trailer who screamed at him if his ball landed near her tractor tire garden, to classroom teachers who had children of their own and didn’t want another. But it had taken his experience with Julie before he’d finally learned the lesson he never let himself forget. His emotional survival depended on not falling in love.
    Someday he hoped that would change. He’d love his kids, that was for damn sure. He’d never let them grow up as he had. As for his wife…That would take a while. But once he was sure she’d stick, he’d give it a try. For now, he intended to treat his search for her like he’d treat any other part of his business, which was why he’d hired the best matchmaker in the city. And why he had to get rid of