Seeking Single Male

by Stephanie Bond

  "Well, you'd be wasting your time, since I rarely go out on the balcony," she chirped, then bent back to the lens. "So, what can I look for? In the sky, that is."

  He ignored her barb and tore his gaze from her to take in the dark wintry sky, so black it was nearly purple. He searched for a simple sky mark. "There's the Milky Way galaxy," he said, pointing to the west.

  She swung the telescope and looked again. "I see it! It's like a blanket of glitter."

  Not an analogy he would have used, but he couldn't help smiling at her childlike enthusiasm. "At the mouth of the Milky Way is the constellation Aquila, then it becomes most dense at Cygnus, then begins to peter out at the Charioteer."

  Lana swung the scope slowly, following the galaxy that was millions of miles long. And he studied her, the lines of her lithe arms, the slope of her shoulder, the curve of her hip. Her hair and skin glowed luminous in the low light. Mere inches separated their bodies, and the distance shrank as he succumbed to the pull emanating from her—

  "Greg?"

  He started. "What?"

  "I asked if you wanted to be an astronaut when you were little."

  A tiny laugh escaped him. "For about a month. The summer I was ten my career aspirations ran the gamut from professional baseball pitcher to race car driver."

  "When did you become interested in astronomy?"

  "It was my mother's passion," he admitted.

  She straightened and turned to look at him. "Your mother must have been a fascinating woman."

  He nodded, the memories still bittersweet. "She was. We all miss her, especially Will."

  "I can imagine," she murmured, her voice wistful. "I miss my mother, and she lives only a day's drive away."

  "Do you see her often?"

  "Well, Janet sells real estate, so it's hard for her to take time off, and now I have the shop…"

  Her voice trailed off, and he had the strangest feeling she was making excuses for her mother, not for herself.

  "Anyway, I can't wait until Christmas Eve. We're going to make a gingerbread house and—I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

  His ego swelled a tiny bit at the idea that her nervousness stemmed from being in his bedroom.

  "Greg," she said, turning toward him. "I don't think coming up here was such a good idea."

  He hadn't realized how much he wanted her in his bed until faced with the prospect of her walking out. A murmur of protest emerged from his tight throat. "Why don't we double-check?" he asked, then pulled her against him for a long, breathless kiss.

  Two seconds into the kiss, it was clear that despite her misgivings about the wisdom of their actions, she was where she wanted to be. Their mouths and bodies melded perfectly. Greg planted his feet on either side of her, creating an intimate cradle for her to lean into. Adrenaline and desire pumped through his body at the knowledge that they would soon be intimately entwined.

  He broke their kiss long enough to lean over and scoop her into his arms. Romantic gesture aside, carrying her to the bed simply seemed…expeditious. He carried her down the two steps, then crossed to the massive bed in two strides. His control already precarious, stretching out next to her on the cool comforter sent a wave of longing barbing through his body. Her soft moan of acquiescence had him setting his jaw in restraint.

  His eyes had adjusted to the dark. Moonlight streamed in through the open window, casting a sheen upon the floor and the bed. She lay slightly diagonally, her chin tipped up expectantly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. So lovely. So beguiling. Greg feasted upon the sight of her, overcome by the enormous swell of passion that surged through him. "Have I told you that you're the most desirable woman I've ever met?" he murmured, then lowered a kiss to her jawline.

  "Yes, but I bet you say that to all the women." Her voice was the sexy rasp of a woman who knew she had a man by the hormones.

  He moaned denial, relieved that she hadn't bolted from his room. Anticipation coursed through him. He held an exquisite gift, which he intended to unwrap with infinite care. He eased his suit jacket from her shoulders, lowering one strap, then the other to make way for his tongue. Gathering her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to nuzzle just above the low neckline of her gown, gratified when she arched into him, and that her movement tugged the dress down so far that the hard peaks of her breasts popped into view. Greg accepted her subtle invitation with fervor, laving the pearled tips while a delicate citrus scent lurking in the valley between her breasts teased his senses higher.

  His control was slipping badly. He buried his face against her skin, marveling how he could feel so safe and so anxious at the same time. As alarms sounded in his brain, another sensation registered. A distant noise—a voice. He stiffened at the sound of his name being called from the first floor.

  "Gregory?"

  Greg hesitated, then lifted his head. "It's Will." Remorse knifed through him. How could he make sure his brother wasn't…doing this if he was in his bedroom with Lana…doing this? He heaved a sigh and sat up, ignoring the ache in his loins. "I'm sorry. I can't do this while Will is around. I feel like I need to set an example."

  She pushed into a sitting position with her back to him, adjusting the bodice of her dress. "I understand."

  Her voice was strained and shaky. Was she upset at being interrupted, or relieved?

  "Gregory?"

  Frustration clawed at him as he stood and shrugged into his jacket. "Let's go back to your place," he suggested, reaching out but stopping short of touching her shoulder, "or get a room."

  "No," she said quietly, then stood abruptly, smoothing her hand over the skirt of her gown as she retrieved her purse. "I'd better be leaving."

  "Gregory? Are you here?"

  Greg pulled his hand down over his face. He wanted to throw caution and responsibilities to the wind, then throw Lana on the bed and ravish her. Instead, he inhaled deeply and did what he always did—the right thing. "I'll take you home," he conceded. He'd probably be thanking Will tomorrow for the timely interruption, but he still had tonight to get through.

  Her wrap had fallen to the floor at the corner of the bed. Greg bent to pick up the silky length of fabric, and extended it to her in the semidarkness. She reached for it, her eyes averted, but he held on, engaging in a slight tug-of-war until she looked up. "I'm sorry. My life isn't always my own. I have responsibilities." Even as the words left his mouth, he recognized their meaning in a larger context. If things were different…

  But things weren't different. Lana's eyes were luminous in the low lighting. Her pale hair glowed, the ends curling around her slender neck. "You don't owe me anything, Greg."

  At her detached tone, he released the wrap. She draped it over her arm carefully, then walked to the door, just as if nothing had transpired between them.

  He clenched his jaw to the point of pain. Then again, in her opinion, maybe nothing had.

  20

  LANA WAS IN THE THROES of a full-body yawn when the telltale sound of Annette's double ring at the back door reverberated through the empty shop. Thanks to last night's encounter with Greg, Lana had become acquainted with every square inch of her lumpy mattress after she'd gotten home and crawled into bed.

  She walked toward the back door, steeling for Annette's certain barrage. When they had emerged from Greg's room last night, Annette's eyes had been full of questions. Will had been more direct.

  "What were you all doing, Gregory?"

  "Looking at the stars, pal."

  "Gregory has a big telescope," Will had informed Annette, whose eyebrows seemed to have frozen high on her forehead as she studied Lana. Thank goodness Will had then announced that Annette was Coffee Girl, and the four had laughed over the mix-up.

  Annette didn't get the chance to drill Lana afterward because Greg drove and Will rode along to take them both home. Lana's apartment was closer, and after a tense ride during which she and Greg exchanged only a dozen words, she'd practically vaulted from the car.

  Now, forcing a cheerf
ul smile, she undid the latch. "Good morning."

  "Yes, it is," Annette sang, blowing in on an early morning chill, carrying warm delicacies covered with fogged-up wax paper.

  Lana ignored the obvious invitation to discussion. "Smells de-lish."

  "I was inspired." More singing.

  She sighed and took the tray, conceding defeat. "Let's see…you're in love?"

  "How can you tell?"

  "Wild guess."

  Annette grinned. "Isn't Will the kindest, handsomest man you've ever seen?"

  "Yes." At least the "handsome" part ran in the family.

  "He's all I think about, Lana. It's like we were meant to be. Imagine, if you and Greg weren't working together on this rezoning thing, Will and I would never have met."

  "You would have met sooner if Greg hadn't interfered," Lana pointed out.

  The redhead shrugged. "Things happen for a reason."

  Did they? Lana wondered. She had always thought so, but what good could possibly come of meeting Greg Healey? Even if he decided to spare her business, what about her heart?

  "You like him, don't you?"

  Lana snapped back to the present. "Will? I think he's a great guy."

  "No, I mean Greg."

  "Oh. Greg and I are…opposites," she said lamely.

  "I think he likes you, too."

  "But I don't—"

  "Lana, did Will and I interrupt something last night?"

  "Don't you have more trays to carry in? I suspect today will be hopping with all the last-minute shoppers."

  Annette angled her head, but finally nodded. "You're right—I'll get the rest. Oh, are you definitely going to be closed tomorrow?"

  She nodded. "I'm going to deliver the gifts for the children in the morning, then do some last-minute decorating, and make a big Christmas Eve dinner before my mother arrives."

  "Will invited me to have dinner with him and Greg and Yvonne."

  If she hadn't had her own plans, Lana might have been envious. But the Healey brothers couldn't be more different. Will was looking for someone to include in his life. Greg was looking for someone to include in his bed…But only when no one else was in the house, she thought wryly.

  "That's nice," she said. "But are you sure you aren't moving too fast, Annette?"

  Astonishment widened her friend's features. "Lana, life is short. When love finds you, you shouldn't waste time. I'll be back with the cranberry truffles."

  Such a simple concept, Lana thought as she watched her friend walk away, her every step punctuated with a happy bounce. When love finds you, you shouldn't waste time. But did love find everyone? And what if your every waking thought was occupied by a person who you knew didn't feel the same? And what if that person held your future in their hands?

  Holy heartbreak.

  "ALL NEXT WEEK OFF, sir—I mean, Mr. Healey? For everyone in the company?"

  Greg nodded his approval at Peg's more casual address. "Yes. Do you think you can contact everyone at home?" It was, after all, Saturday morning. He and Peg were the only two in the office. He'd showered, but hadn't bothered to shave since the party last night. Hadn't bothered to sleep, either.

  "Sure, Mr. Healey. I'll use the calling tree we have in place in case we close due to bad weather."

  "Then I'll leave the matter in your capable hands. Merry Christmas."

  She blinked, then smiled. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Healey."

  At a rap on the door, they both looked up. Art Payton stood in the doorway.

  "Got a minute?"

  "Sure," Greg said, waving him in. Peg slipped out and closed the door behind her.

  Art dropped his considerable bulk into a chair. "I got a call this morning from Mitch Ryder, the largest developer who's shown interest in the Hyde Parkland project."

  Dread curled in his stomach, but Greg nodded. "Go on."

  "Well, seems as though a couple of big apartment buildings are available in Frankfort. Ryder thinks he can convert them to condos. Trouble is, he can't handle both jobs at once, so it's either the Hyde parcel or the Frankfort parcel."

  "And he needs to know right away," Greg said.

  "As soon as possible. He'd rather do business here."

  "And if we make changes to the plans at this point?"

  "We'll lose Ryder."

  "But we can find another developer."

  "In time. But why risk it? You can have a home run when this rezoning goes through by sticking to your original plan. Or you can give in to the merchants, and settle for a lot less money coming in over a longer period of time."

  "Either way we won't go bankrupt."

  "But with Ryder, you can retire. Buy a sailboat. Cruise the South Seas."

  Greg respected Art's candor—the man worked on salary, so he was speaking from an unbiased viewpoint. "The rezoning vote will take place the second week of January."

  "I can hold Ryder off until then," Art promised, "but no longer." He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. "Greg?"

  Greg looked up.

  "This is no time to start being Mr. Nice Guy." Art lifted his hand in a wave, then swaggered out the door.

  Greg tossed down his pen, then scooted his chair back with a frustrated sigh. Hell, if he could convince Lana to go along with the rezoning, they'd have enough money to do whatever they wanted. She'd never miss the coffee shop. He frowned. They?

  A dry laugh escaped him. He knew Lana Martina well enough to know that the way to her heart was not through money derived at the expense of things she held dear. His frown deepened. The way to her heart. Where had that come from? Besides, Lana had told him she wasn't interested in a relationship. How could he possibly walk away from the chance of a lifetime in return for—what? A few weeks of torrid lovemaking? And who's to say she even wanted to have an affair?

  The phone rang, and he answered since Peg was probably busy spreading Christmas cheer to the employees. "Greg Healey."

  "Greg, it's Charlie Andrews."

  Greg grinned when he heard the voice of a buddy from law school he'd run into last week while playing hooky at the courthouse. "Hey, Charlie."

  "Only you would be working on the Saturday before Christmas."

  Greg laughed. "What about you?"

  "And me. Listen, I've been thinking about our conversation last week, and you hinting at making a move into the courtroom."

  His pulse picked up. "And?"

  "And I have a proposition for you. The DA's office is recovering from some political infighting. To make a long story short, they're looking for a few good men."

  Greg sat forward in his chair, barely able to contain his excitement. "But Charlie, I have no courtroom experience."

  "I know, but the money is barely enough to live on, so it evens out. In fact, I'm sure you'll be up to speed long before your salary is. The office has some big cases coming up in the next six months. Could be career makers for a guy with the right stuff who's willing to work on the cheap."

  "I don't know what to say, Charlie." Every muscle in his body screamed yes.

  "Say you'll think about it over the holidays. I'll catch up with you after the New Year."

  "Great. And thanks."

  "Merry Christmas, man."

  "To you, too."

  Greg returned the receiver slowly, pleasure pooling in his stomach. A chance to work in the DA's office, doing what he'd always wanted to do.

  But for pauper's pay. He sighed, then pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the garland-decorated window to stare at the courthouse roof. If the rezoning proposal went through, he'd be a rich man. A rich man who could prosecute landmark cases without worrying about providing for himself and for Will—and, now with a girlfriend in the picture, perhaps Will's offspring. His brother couldn't raise a family on the minimum wage he earned.

  And then there was Lana. And her violet eyes. And her bleeding heart.

  He groaned as Art's parting words came back to him. After all these years, what a bad time to have grown a cons
cience.

  21

  LANA WOKE ON Christmas Eve morning with little-girl anticipation at seeing her mother again. She smiled wide as she stretched, then jumped into the shower, humming Christmas tunes under her breath. Janet already would have left for the eight-hour trip north. She'd told Lana the last time they'd spoken on the phone to expect her around four in the afternoon, which gave Lana plenty of time to deliver the gifts to the children's center where a breakfast for the kids was being held.

  She still marveled at Greg's generosity. Alex had teased her that he was simply trying to butter her up, but she liked to think that his heart had truly gone out to the children.

  She had to make two trips with a huge bag of gifts strapped to her moped, but it was more than worth it to see the looks on the faces of the children. Her own problems—real and perceived—seemed petty next to the trials that other people experienced day in and day out.

  Even though the Christmas card she'd mailed to her father a month ago had been returned yesterday with no forwarding address, at least she still had Janet. Even if her business were shut down in the next few months, she'd still find a way to make a living and eventually repay her debt. Even if Greg Healey didn't care for her, she had her health and good friends around her. Everything was relative.

  So with much effort, she quashed the emotions that seemed to have careened out of control since the episode in his room two nights ago. Her left brain told her there was no future with Greg Healey. But her right brain had wrapped its synapses around the words Annette had spoken yesterday. When love finds you, you shouldn't waste time.

  She hadn't shared her burgeoning feelings for Greg with anyone, although Annette suspected something was going on. Alex had asked a few vague questions about the rezoning proposal the last time they'd talked on the phone, but was preoccupied with overseeing the Christmas rush at Tremont's and with moving into her new home. Rich had left Friday and wouldn't return until the thirtieth. Harry was no help whatsoever.

  But she planned to tell Janet about Greg, another reason she was looking forward to their time together. Her mother would want all the details, would want to sit up until two in the morning in their pj's, talking about life and love and men. And maybe in the course of trying to express her thoughts about Greg, some unforgivable wart on his character would be revealed, some defect that would neutralize these…stirrings of her heart. Janet would tease her mercilessly because Lana had never before been in…deep like this. She'd scattered candles around the kitchen and living room. Her mother loved candles, and Elvis's "Blue Christmas" album, which Lana had found on CD, along with Jim Reeves and Lou Rawls, two more of her mother's faves. She loaded the CDs into the stereo, smiling as the strains of the old recordings came over her speakers. She'd be tired of them by the time Janet arrived, but it put her in the mood to finish decorating.