Seeking Single Male

by Stephanie Bond

  He tried not to frown, but the woman placed a tad too much importance on a product that was little more than a commodity you could buy at any fast-food drive-thru.

  "Yvonne says Gregory drinks too much coffee," Will informed her.

  "Yvonne?"

  "She lives with us," his brother said happily.

  "Will," Greg admonished, shooting him a warning look. He felt Lana's gaze piercing him with questions. "Can we talk about something else?"

  "Gregory bought a new telescope," Will said.

  He rolled his eyes. His brother seemed determined to share the details of their life.

  "Did he?" Lana asked. "Do you like to look at the stars, too, Will?"

  He had to hand it to her, she didn't use the singsongy voice that most women used with Will, as if they were talking to a child.

  "Oh, yeah. Gregory shows me how to connect the dots and come up with a picture in the sky."

  "What kinds of pictures?" She actually sounded interested.

  "The big water dipper, and the little one. And people, and animals. Maybe you can come to Gregory's bedroom sometime and see his telescope."

  Greg closed his eyes briefly. "Will, allow someone else to talk, please."

  "Thank you for the invitation, Will," Lana said, her voice breezy. "So the two of you live together?"

  "And Yvonne," his brother reminded her.

  "Of course," she said, nodding. "Where do you live?"

  "On Versailles Road

  ," Greg piped in before Will could answer and veer off on another tangent.

  "I have a friend who's building a new home on Versailles Road

  . Alexandria Tremont?"

  He sighed. She seemed bent on engaging him in conversation. "Is she associated with Tremont's department stores?"

  "Her father founded the company, but Alex is the new president. And she recently married someone you might know—Jack Stillman?"

  He frowned as the name tickled his memory. "Jack the Attack Stillman?"

  "One and the same."

  "I was a couple years ahead of him at UK."

  "He remembered you, too. Let's see, how did he put it? That you were a 'seriously confirmed bachelor.'"

  "What does that mean, Gregory?"

  He swallowed and tightened his grip on the wheel. "It means, er…"

  "It means that your brother wishes never to marry," Lana supplied.

  If he didn't know better, he'd think she was laughing at him. And it sounded as though she must have told her friends about the "incident" and that was when Jack Stillman had remembered him. Were they laughing at him, too?

  "Gregory thinks women are too complicated to marry."

  "Really?" Lana asked.

  "Here we are," Greg said in relief, pulling up in front of the coffee shop ablaze with Christmas lights. Even from the street he could see the place was alive with activity.

  Will immediately bounded from the car into the rain to open her door, leaving Greg chagrined. Perhaps he'd forgotten how to behave around a woman. Did that explain why he'd jumped to the conclusion that Lana had wanted to—?

  "I'm sorry," he blurted.

  She glanced at him, her eyes wide in the lighted cab.

  "For…what happened the other day," he said, speaking quickly. "I have no excuse for my behavior." A deprived libido didn't count.

  Her smile cheered him ridiculously.

  "I share some of the blame for the misunderstanding." she said. "We both were looking for…something else."

  Her eyes were mesmerizing.

  She straightened. "So, when can we get together to talk about business?"

  He blinked. Business? Yes, business. "Why don't you call me," he said, more brusquely than he'd intended, "when you get your thoughts together."

  "Sure," she murmured. "Thanks for the ride." She wet her lips, and he watched until the moisture disappeared. "I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other over the next few weeks."

  Rub it in, rub it in.

  Suddenly she laughed. "Don't worry, I'll leave my hair spray holstered."

  He bit down on his cheek. Was she going to throw salt on his wounded ego at every opportunity?

  She slid one leg out the door, then turned back suddenly. "Oh, and one more thing."

  He sighed. "What?"

  "I really like your brother."

  He watched her swing out, her curvy behind swaying as she stepped up onto the curb. He heard her laugh and guessed she'd said something clever to poor, unsuspecting Will, who walked with her to the door of the shop, holding the umbrella over her blond head. She smiled up at Will, and a foreign sensation bolted through Greg's chest. Jealousy? Impossible. He scoffed silently and focused on the swishing windshield wipers.

  When Will slid into the passenger seat and banged the door closed, a grin split his face. "I like Lana. Don't you, Gregory?"

  He pulled away, watching the rearview mirror until the lights of the coffee shop disappeared. "Er, well, I hardly know her."

  "Are you going to ask her out on a date?"

  He frowned. "Absolutely not. Lana Martina is not my type."

  "Can I have her?"

  Greg nearly swerved off the road. "What?"

  "If you don't want to ask her out, can I have her, Gregory?"

  "She's not a horse—you can't just 'claim' her. When it comes to dating, the woman sort of has to agree." He scratched his head. "What if…she already has a boyfriend?"

  "She doesn't." Will grinned. "I asked her."

  Well, of course he had. Greg tucked away the nugget of information, then shifted in his seat. "Will, sometimes women prefer it if you're a little aloof, not so assertive."

  "What do you mean?"

  His mind raced for a suitable answer. "I don't think you should rush into anything with Lana Martina. Trust me on this, okay, pal?"

  "Okay," Will said happily. "Lana is worth waiting for."

  Greg hunched down in his seat, miserable in his wet coat, wishing very much that he'd never heard the name Lana Martina.

  9

  "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT," Alex said. "I simply can't believe it's the same guy!"

  "Believe it," Lana said, lifting her cup of tea.

  "And now the two of you have to work together. Oh, this is good."

  "Good? Alex, we'd just as soon set fire to each other."

  "But you explained the mix-up, didn't you?"

  She was still harboring the teensiest amount of guilt over allowing Greg to believe she had placed both ads. But it was for Annette's own good, after all. "Um, yeah."

  "And?"

  "Let's just say that things are still a little…strained."

  "Well, no man likes to be turned down, no matter the circumstances."

  Lana grunted her agreement. "Plus, I think it bothers him that I know he gets his kicks from the singles ads." A wicked smile curled her mouth. "Then it occurred to me that I might be able to use that little tidbit to my advantage."

  Alex's eyes widened over her mug of coffee. "You're going to blackmail him?"

  "No." Lana wagged her eyebrows. "But he doesn't know that."

  Her friend laughed, then shook her head. "I don't know, it sounds dangerous."

  "I'm not afraid of the man's law degree."

  "That's not what I meant." Alex took a slow sip, then set down her cup. "I think there's something between you and Greg Healey."

  Lana's mouth fell open. "What? You saw the man—Greg Healey is a poster boy for corporate greed."

  "He's powerful, yes."

  "Then there's that little sticking point about him leveling my coffee shop to build a parking garage. Alex, I can't stand him!"

  Alex looked dubious. "There's a thin line between love and hate."

  "But I'm indifferent!"

  "People who are indifferent don't use exclamation points when they talk."

  Lana rolled her eyes.

  "And I find it curious that you failed to mention how handsome he is."

  "Is he?" Lana asked, studying
the way the milk swirled in her cup. "I hadn't noticed."

  "Probably too many other things on your mind," Alex agreed solemnly, "which would account for those circles under your eyes."

  She sipped from her cup carefully. "I stayed up late working on the ideas I want to discuss with Greg—I mean, with Mr. Healey." She didn't add that the reason she stayed up late was that the coincidental encounters with the aloof real estate guru had left her big-eyed and restless at two in the morning. She kept remembering the way they had walked arm-in-arm to her apartment. Their exchange had been casual and comfortable when she'd thought him harmless and of no threat to…what? Her livelihood? The little pocket of relationships she'd built around the coffee shop? Her self-imposed celibacy?

  "Earth to Lana."

  She blinked. "Hmm?"

  "I said, did you come up with any good ideas?"

  "Well, I'm no architect." She sighed and dragged the papers she'd been working on toward them. "But I tried to come up with different ways to combine commercial and residential dwellings."

  They looked through the stack of plans, pencil drawings and scribbled notes.

  Alex shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just don't see a painless solution."

  "And I don't expect to find one," Lana admitted. "But I do hope that the pain can be borne by more than a small group of people."

  "Greg Healey's shoulders looked like they could carry quite a load," Alex said with a sly smile.

  Lana shook her pencil. "This is strictly a working relationship."

  "It doesn't have to be."

  She frowned even as the heat rose in her cheeks. "Alex, doesn't it strike you as a bit bizarre that a rich, good-looking bachelor has to resort to the personal ads?"

  "Ah, so you do think he's good-looking."

  "Don't change the subject."

  "Maybe he's shy."

  "Oh, yeah, he was a regular shrinking violet at the council meeting. The man's an ogre."

  "Maybe he's shy with women."

  "He made an unsolicited pass at me in my bedroom."

  "Which means he finds you irresistible."

  "Which means he thought I was easy."

  Alex sighed. "Okay, you're right. If you think this guy's a jerk, then I believe you. Just remember, I thought Jack was a jerk when we first met."

  "Jack was a jerk when you first met."

  A seductive grin lit her friend's face. "A man can change."

  Lana's shoulders drooped in exasperation. "Alex, if I had time for a man in my life, he wouldn't be Greg Healey, whose only redeeming quality seems to be his brother."

  "Yeah, his brother sounds like a sweetheart. But Greg can't be all bad if he lives with his brother."

  "And a woman named Yvonne."

  "Oh. The plot thickens."

  "Well, something is getting thicker, all right."

  "When will you see the infamous Mr. Healey again?"

  "I'm supposed to call him to set up a meeting as soon as I get my thoughts together." Lana tapped the pencil harder. Of course, no one had to know she was referring to her thoughts concerning Greg. She knew her plan to tease the man could backfire. But when a woman had her back to a wall, she did what she had to do with everything she had to do it with. For now, she'd let him stew.

  "HAVE YOU TALKED to Lana, Gregory?"

  "No." And if Will asked him one more time, he would surely have an aneurysm. "The meeting was only last night," he reminded him gently.

  "I've been practicing how her name would sound. Lana Healey. Doesn't that sound great, Gregory?"

  He cut into a sausage link with more energy than was required. "Beautiful, pal, just beautiful."

  "Who is this Lana person?" Yvonne asked, glancing back and forth between them.

  "Nobody," Greg said.

  "A really pretty girl with white hair and purple eyes."

  Yvonne lifted an eyebrow in Greg's direction.

  He sighed. "She represented a group of business owners in the council meeting last night," he said. "I'll be working with her to tweak a rezoning proposal. It's just a formality."

  "Gregory wants to shut down her coffee shop," added Will.

  Greg put down his fork and rubbed his scratchy eyes. "It's not that I want to shut down her business, Will. But we own the property, and it'll be worth a lot of money once the rezoning goes through."

  "You sound confident that the proposal will be approved," Yvonne said.

  "I believe it will, but thanks to Lana Martina, it'll be at least another month before we can get things moving."

  "Ah, she's a rabble-rouser," Yvonne said with a hint of admiration. "Well, not much would have happened over the holidays, anyway."

  "Whose side are you on?" he asked with a frown.

  But he couldn't ruffle the woman who was more like a family member than an employee. "Yours, grouch, but Ms. Martina sounds like a person fighting for what she believes in."

  "I want to marry her," Will announced.

  Greg closed his eyes.

  "Really?" Yvonne asked mildly.

  "She has a nice smile."

  "I see."

  "Gregory, can I call Lana and ask her out on a date?"

  Greg wiped his mouth. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "Why not?"

  Greg tossed his napkin on his plate. "Because, I just don't."

  Will pulled back, his expression wounded.

  Remorse pushed the air out of his lungs in a noisy exhale. "I'm sorry, pal. I didn't mean to yell. I've got a lot on my mind right now."

  "Will," Yvonne said quietly, "would you mind refilling the juice pitcher?"

  His brother nodded, picking up the empty pitcher and exiting through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  "Would you like to talk about it?" Yvonne asked.

  "What?"

  Her laugh was soft, abbreviated. "Greg, you've been in a disagreeable mood for fifteen years—and not without good reason. But when you snap at Will, I know something's wrong."

  He sighed. "It's this obsession he has with finding a girlfriend."

  "Seems perfectly natural to me."

  "But he'll get hurt."

  "Maybe. But that's between him and the woman, isn't it?"

  "Will's welfare is my business."

  She gave him a pointed look. "And one of these days, you might not be around. Don't you think Will deserves to build a life with someone?"

  Gripped with a mounting frustration he couldn't identify, he silently chewed on the inside of his cheek.

  "And while we're on the subject, Greg, you deserve the same."

  He looked away. "I like my own company."

  "And if you'd salvage what's left of your personality, someone else might like your company, too."

  "This isn't about me."

  "Isn't it?" she pressed.

  He looked back to the middle-aged woman. "No. And I'm not going to stand by and watch Will have his hopes dashed by someone like Lana Martina."

  "How do you know she'll dash his hopes?"

  "Because she's—" he shot a glance toward the kitchen and lowered his voice "—out of his league."

  "Oh. And would she happen to be in your league?"

  He scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She gave him a smile that only a woman who had bounced the brothers on her knee could get away with. He ground his teeth.

  Will burst back into the room. "We were out of juice, so I brought milk. Want some, Gregory?"

  Greg looked up at his brother's happy face and lifted his empty glass. "Sure."

  "Gregory, I think I know why you don't want me to ask Lana Martina out on a date."

  He choked on the milk he'd just swallowed. "Why?"

  "Because she's against you on the rezoning proposal, and I should be on your side. I'm sorry, Gregory."

  One hurt expression from Will was like a thousand knives in the heart. "You don't have to apologize, buddy. We're square, okay?"

  "Okay." Will poured himself a huge glass of milk. "But I
was thinking—if you have to win Lana Martina over to your side, shouldn't you try to be nice to her, Gregory?"

  Flustered at Will's simple but unerring logic, he glanced to Yvonne, who lifted her glass of milk to silently second the suggestion.

  Faced with two people with whom arguing was nearly impossible, Greg counted to ten silently, then resumed eating. "Yes, Will, I suppose I should try even harder to be nice to her."

  Will grinned.

  "But do me a favor—no more of that 'Lana Healey' stuff, okay?"

  "Okay, Gregory."

  LANA WAS WIPING TABLES, her mind rearranging the bits of property in question like a jigsaw puzzle that seemed to have no matching pieces, when the bell on the door rang. She'd grown accustomed to the bizarre jerk of her heart each time she looked up with the notion that Greg Healey would stride in bearing an olive branch.

  But while the man who walked in was about the same age and pleasing to look at, he was no Greg Healey. His hair was auburn, his eyes bright blue, plus he was generous with his smile.

  "I'm looking for Lana Martina."

  She wiped her hands on a coffee-stained apron, and smiled in return. "You found her."

  Another smile. "I'm Rich Enderling. I called about the ad for a roommate."

  Lana brightened, and gestured for him to sit. She harbored hope that he would be the answer to one of her immediate problems, but she was wary. "Are you from around here?"

  "No. I've been living in a small town in Mississippi for the past few years." His smile was sheepish. "I'm supposed to start a new job Monday, but the apartment I arranged for over the Internet is unlivable, so I'm driving around with a U-Haul and the Attitude's want ads."

  "What kind of job?" she asked warily. The last thing she needed was a live-in deadbeat.

  "Product development with Phillips Foods. Are you familiar with the company?"

  "Vaguely. My best friend's husband runs an advertising agency, and I think Phillips is one of his clients. They process honey or something?"

  "Right."

  "You don't look like a beekeeper."

  He laughed. "I'm a food scientist, and Phillips is expanding into other product lines."

  Lana perked up. "You cook?"

  "Yes, some."

  She bit back her excitement. This guy would be perfect…if he was of the requisite, um, orientation. Recalling Jack's comment about not inviting strange men back to her apartment until she knew what she was dealing with, she squinted, surveying Rich Enderling for…what? Color coordination? Good taste? The man looked great in chinos, T-shirt and a denim jacket. He smelled nice and…masculine. She sighed—if this man was gay, she couldn't tell. After all, she'd thought Greg Healey was gay, and look where that mistake had gotten her.