Seeking Single Male (10 page)

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.

Leaning close, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Just one more thing before I show you the apartment."

Rich leaned forward, as well. "Yes?"

Lana grabbed him by the jacket collar and pulled his lips against hers for an experimental kiss. From her point of view, the

kiss was pleasant—nice moisture, good firmness, with a full bouquet. But no zing, no electricity, no promise. Distantly she