Seeking Single Male

by Stephanie Bond

  He swallowed hard. "I suppose." He could always have the gifts couriered over.

  "So why are you shutting down her coffee shop?"

  "Will, we've been over this a dozen times." But what the heck was he so afraid of? He would just drive over there and drop them off. Period.

  "I know, Gregory, but I don't understand why everybody can't be happy."

  He massaged the bridge of his nose. "It's impossible for everybody to be happy at the same time." He would simply park, and let Will take the packages inside.

  "I want to buy Yvonne a suitcase for Christmas."

  He sighed in relief at Will's sudden diversion. "I think that's a very good idea. Why don't you go to the luggage department, and I'll—"

  "Mr. Healey?"

  Greg turned to see Lana's friend Alex walking toward him. He wasn't sure how to respond. The woman hadn't exactly been friendly when he'd met her, although now she looked cordial enough. "Hello," he said. "I know Tremont's is your family's store, but I didn't expect you to be here all the time."

  "Christmas shopping with a friend, same as you," she said, then glanced over his shoulder. "Here's my friend now."

  Greg turned his head and stemmed a groan as councilwoman Wheeler walked up with a smug smile. "Mr. Healey, what a surprise."

  "Ms. Wheeler." He looked back and forth between the women. "Somehow I'm not quite as surprised as you are." He introduced Will to both women.

  "I saw you at the council meeting," Alex said to Will.

  "You mean the meeting where Gregory was trying to shut down Lana's coffee shop?"

  "Will." Greg forced a laugh and clapped his brother on the back. "We've been over this."

  The councilwoman offered up a little smile. "I've tried to reach you every day this week."

  He'd played hooky every day this week, taking up residence in the back row of the city courthouse, even renewing old acquaintanceships with law buddies he ran into in the halls. His secretary was ready to quit. "I was going to return your call first thing in the morning." A lie.

  She nodded. "And how are things going between you and Ms. Martina?"

  "Fine," he said with as much enthusiasm as he could summon.

  "They had a big argument," Will supplied.

  "A little disagreement." Greg shot Will a warning look.

  "Oh? Do I need to intervene?" the councilwoman asked, her tone a subtle threat.

  "No," he assured her. "In fact, I'll be seeing Ms. Martina today." Two lies in two minutes.

  "Gregory bought all these toys for Lana's children."

  "For needy children that Lana sponsors," Greg clarified.

  Both women arched an eyebrow, and he wondered if his face was as red as it felt.

  "That's generous of you, Mr. Healey," the councilwoman said.

  "Very generous," Alex seconded.

  He shifted uncomfortably. No one had ever called him generous. "Well, it was nice seeing both of you."

  "I look forward to that call in the morning, Mr. Healey, with an update on the progress you've made."

  He managed a shaky smile. "Absolutely."

  LANA SLIPPED THE BUSINESS CARD Greg had given her the night of the council meeting out of her apron pocket and studied it again, as if somewhere between the lines of formal raised script announcing, "Gregory K. Healey, President and Chief Legal Counsel, Healey Land Group," she would find some encrypted code to reinforce her suspicion that Greg Healey, Science Club guy, lurked just beneath the surface and was someone worth knowing.

  The edges of the card were rounded from her constant fingering over the past week. She regretted walking away from him in anger last Sunday because no matter how the man affected her, the shop owners were counting on her to work out a compromise. She had to find a way to overcome their personal…difficulties, and break through his mind-set that newer was better.

  She'd called him at work every day the past week, but hadn't identified herself or left a message when his secretary said he was out of the office. Out of the office for an entire week? Greg didn't strike her as the kind of man who vacationed frivolously, so perhaps he'd been traveling. Regardless, after a week of no contact, she was starting to panic because the days before the final council vote were slipping away.

  Calling him at home was out of the question if they were going to maintain a professional relationship. She would phone him again in the morning and leave her name if he wasn't available. And if he hadn't returned her call by midweek, she would be forced to call councilwoman Wheeler and ask her to intervene—a thought that made Lana ill. If Greg told Wheeler why they couldn't work together, her credibility would be ruined.

  And with good reason, she noted miserably. The merchants had trusted her when they'd asked her to be their spokesperson, and she might have compromised their position by succumbing to the physical attraction she felt for Greg. She groaned aloud and dropped her head into her hands. How had her life gone downhill so quickly? The respite of her mother's Christmas Eve visit loomed like an emotional gift. Janet was nothing if not entertaining.

  The bell on the back door rang, and Lana dragged herself up to answer it, surprised to find Annette holding a covered tray emitting a wonderful aroma.

  "I hope it's chocolate," Lana said.

  Annette cringed. "Bad day?"

  "Crummy."

  "It's a new recipe—chocolate pound cake."

  "I love you." She held the door open for Annette to squeeze by. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?"

  "You seemed kind of blue this week, so I thought I'd drop off these goodies and try to cheer you up."

  She smiled and followed Annette to the pastry case. "You're a dear. Have you had any more responses to your ad?"

  "One extremely humiliating fraternity prank, one guy who just got out of Attica, and one guy who was about a hundred years old."

  "Ouch."

  "I know. So as appalling as Greg What's-his-face was to you, he's still the best thing that came out of that stupid ad."

  Lana squirmed. "Well, the holidays are the worst time to start a new relationship. You'll probably get some takers after the first of the year."

  "I hope so." They crouched behind the pastry case and used tongs to arrange the slices of dark moist cake that smelled like heaven.

  "You'll meet Mr. Right soon," Lana said, although she was feeling a little down on love these days.

  Not that she was in love with Greg. Or anything like that.

  Annette laughed ruefully. "I hope so. But I have to admit I'm getting a little discouraged. Why can't the man of my dreams just walk through the door?"

  The bell on the front door rang, sending them into a fit of giggles. But when Lana straightened to see Greg and Will, their arms laden with Christmas packages, she sobered with a hiccup.

  "Hi, Lana," Will said with a grin. "Gregory and I bought presents for your kids."

  She frowned. "My kids?" Then she remembered the needy-children Christmas tree, picked clean of name tags. "My kids!" Her gaze flew to Greg. "You took all the tags?" Slow wonder crept into her heart.

  "It's no big deal," he said casually. "I wouldn't want to start a rumor that I'm a nice guy." But his faint blush belied his nonchalance.

  Telling herself not to overreact, Lana pressed her lips together to suppress her happiness at seeing him again and to hide how much his gesture had touched her. "No, we wouldn't want to start a nasty rumor like that."

  He shifted the load in his arms. "We put the gifts in bags so you can double-check everything."

  She nodded, unable to tear her gaze from his. "You can put the gifts under the tree if you like."

  He stared back, and once again she caught a glimpse of the man beneath the stoic facade before he looked away. "Come on, Will, we still have more packages to unload from the car—Will?"

  Will's eyes were wide and riveted on some point behind her shoulder. Lana turned to see a similar expression on Annette's face as she peeked over the top of the pastry case. A slow
smile crept up Lana's face. "Will, this is my pastry chef, Annette Bowman. Annette, this is William Healey."

  "You can call me Will," he blurted.

  "Hello, Will," she murmured.

  Time stood still as the unmistakable instant attraction reverberated between them. Lana had the distinct feeling that she was witnessing the birth of something special, and for a split second, she was envious of Annette's good fortune. She sighed, then chanced a glance at Greg, who seemed less sure of what was happening.

  "Will? Are you going to help me with the packages?"

  "I'll help," Annette announced, then moved in slow motion from behind the counter to stand in front of Will.

  "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

  Lana bit back a smile at his forthrightness.

  Annette shook her head no, sending her red curls bouncing.

  "Will you go to a Christmas party with me Friday night?"

  She nodded yes, sending her curls bouncing in the other direction, then took the packages from Greg's arms and led Will toward the stage where the Christmas trees sat with packages scattered beneath.

  Greg stared after them, then looked at Lana. "What just happened?"

  "I think your brother just asked my friend out on a date."

  He frowned suspiciously. "What sort of girl is she?"

  Lana crossed her arms. "The sort of girl your brother likes, apparently."

  "He doesn't know about these things."

  "And you do?"

  Greg's first impulse was to say that yes, he did. He knew that women were high-maintenance, emotional creatures who complicated the simplest of issues. He knew a woman would drive a wedge between him and his brother. He knew a woman said one thing when she meant something else entirely. But as always, Lana's eyes derailed his thoughts. "Huh?"

  "And you do know about these things?"

  He dragged his gaze and thoughts back to Will. "This isn't about me."

  "They're only going to a party, for heaven's sake."

  At least he would be able to keep an eye on them. And beforehand he would sit down with Will and make sure he understood how risky it was to have unprotected sex. His brother had good intentions about waiting until he was married, but in the heat of the moment, sometimes good intentions went out the window. Greg frowned. No one knew that better than he.

  This Annette person was cute, no doubt. Oh, not his type at all—he definitely preferred tall women, and a more slender build. And the eyes…well, the eyes were important.

  "Greg?"

  Jarred from his thoughts by the voice he could not evict from his brain, he looked at Lana. "What?"

  Her little frown told him she'd been trying to get his attention.

  "I was saying that I feel bad about the way we left things last week. I was unprofessional, and I apologize—"

  God, she had the most incredible eyes. And a slender figure. And she was tall.

  "—And I was hoping," she continued, "that we could pick up where we left off."

  And now he was confused about which came first—the definition of what kind of woman was his type or Lana Martina?

  "Where we left off on the rezoning project," she added quickly.

  He'd be able to keep an eye on Will most of the time Friday night, but if he had a date, they could double. Then he could check out this girl who had captured his brother's fancy. "Are you busy Friday night?" he asked Lana.

  "I can get away."

  "Then come to a party with me."

  "A party?"

  "Company function," he explained. "You can meet some of the folks who've been involved in the rezoning project from the beginning."

  "It's business?" she asked, her voice wary.

  "Strictly," he assured her.

  "Okay. What time and where?"

  "We'll pick you up."

  "We?"

  He gestured across the room. "Will and Annette and I. We'll all go together."

  18

  LANA'S LINGERING QUESTIONS about why she had agreed to go to the party with Greg were banished when she opened the door to her apartment. Frustrating or not, she missed his company. His eyes widened at the sight of her in the long black sheath with spaghetti straps that dated back to Ladd-Markham cocktail parties.

  "Wow," he murmured.

  Ridiculously pleased, she said, "Wow yourself," surveying his immaculate charcoal-gray suit, blinding white shirt and deep red tie. The colors suited him immensely. "Come in while I get my wrap."

  He strolled in warily, and she suspected he was remembering the last time he'd visited her apartment. The man's eyes were probably watering.

  "Is your roomie home?" he asked.

  "No," she called over her shoulder. "Rich is working late." In her bedroom, she checked her carefully applied makeup one more time, then adjusted the rhinestone barrettes scattered through the layers of her hair. Satisfied that she looked festive, she retrieved her shoulder wrap from the foot of the bed, breathed deeply to slow her pulse, then returned to the living room.

  "I see you still have Harry," he said with a wry smile.

  "Oh, I'll always have Harry." As fond as she was of Harry, the past few days she'd begun to see him as a symbol of always being alone. She liked her own company, but she also held out hope that someday she'd meet someone to share her life with.

  Such as it was. If her life could so easily be set on end, maybe she wasn't living the existence of substance she had haughtily assumed. Pressing her lips together in thought, she draped the wrap over one shoulder, then twisted to reach behind her.

  "Allow me," Greg murmured near her ear, then he lifted the other end of the wrap and placed it around her shoulders.

  Her breath caught in her chest as his hand lingered longer than necessary upon the sensitive hollow of her collarbone. Their date was strictly business, he'd said—and she needed to keep her wits about her. But her body had its own agenda, established when his warm breath tickled the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of desire, holding herself rigid to suppress the urge to lean back into his body.

  "Please, Greg."

  His breath grew warmer and more rapid upon her neck, although he fell short of lowering his lips to her skin.

  "Please, what?" he whispered, his voice heavy with the promise of fulfillment.

  Her breasts tightened, the peaks hardening at the memory of his silky mouth, but she turned her head away from him. "Please…let's go."

  "Right," he said, clearing his voice. "Sorry."

  She turned to face him, drawing the wrap over her tingling breasts. "Greg, I'd be a fool not to notice this…attraction between us, but things are already complicated enough."

  "Complicated," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That they are."

  "If only…" Lana bit her tongue. If only they'd met at a bar somewhere instead of through a missed connection in the classified ads. If only he didn't own the building where her shop was located…"Never mind, let's go." Quashing the memory of his touch, she retrieved her evening purse and door key.

  He held open the door for her, but his strained expression indicated he was still struggling with the effects of their brush with intimacy.

  "I would say that Will and Annette are wondering what's keeping us, but they don't seem to realize that anything else is going on in the world."

  She locked the door and smiled. "That's sweet. Annette told me they've talked on the phone every night this week. She adores him."

  "Maybe for now," Greg said. "But how long will that last?"

  Lana glanced up sharply as they descended the stairs. "You're not giving your brother much credit."

  "I didn't mean it that way," he said. "I just know…"

  "You just know what?"

  "I just know how women are."

  She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? And how are we?"

  One side of his mouth drew back. "I don't want Will to get hurt."

  "You don't know Annette—she's a good person. She would never lead Wi
ll on."

  "Will wouldn't need much encouragement. He's still, um, innocent in some areas."

  She laughed softly as they approached the big Mercedes. "You have nothing to worry about where Annette is concerned. She's the original little Miss Innocent."

  Greg frowned toward the car. "If she's the original little Miss Innocent, then why are the windows fogged up?"

  She followed his gaze, then winced and picked up her pace to match his. "It's cold, they're probably running the heater."

  "That's one way to put it," he said dryly. He strode to the car and rapped on the front passenger window before opening the door for her.

  The inside light came on, illuminating the couple in the back seat tangled in an embrace. They pulled apart and turned wide eyes toward the intruders. Lana swallowed a smile at the sight of Annette's red lipstick transferred to Will's face.

  "Hi, Gregory. Hi, Lana."

  Lana looked at Greg and discreetly covered her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. He, on the other hand, did not look amused. "Hello, Will." Lana allowed Greg to help her into the seat, then flinched when he banged the door shut. Through the condensation on the window, she watched him stalk around the front of the car. Lana chuckled to herself. The man would be a force to reckon with if he ever had a daughter.

  The unbidden thought sent an odd sensation to her stomach. What on earth made her picture him in a domestic situation? Of all the men she'd met, Greg Healey was probably the man least likely to make a trip down the aisle. He wore his bachelorhood like a sign on his sleeve: Do Not Enter.

  He opened the driver's door and swung inside. A sigh passed over his lips, then he removed a snowy handkerchief and handed it over his shoulder. "Wipe your face, man," he said quietly.

  "Okay, Gregory."

  The gentle exchange brought unexpected tears to her eyes, and for the first time she had a glimpse into why Greg seemed old for his years. Did his responsibility for Will fuel his ambition and explain why he was such a seriously confirmed bachelor? In that moment his stoic personality seemed endearing, and his pursuits, noble. While he facilitated large real estate transactions every day, she was selling half-caf-nonfat-whip-extra-mochas. In the scheme of things, her contribution to society seemed pretty darn trivial, a concept she'd given a lot of thought to this week. Greg's secretary had called her several times to clarify Lana's notes as she was typing them up, so at least he hadn't discarded the ideas she'd given him.