Seeking Single Male (5 page)

resistance, and found it against her thigh. He—

—was suddenly spun around and his arm yanked up between his shoulder blades. Greg grunted at the pain exploding in his

rotator cuff. Before he could form a question, a knee in his back propelled him into the hall between the rooms. The wall

stopped him. With his head smarting and his mind reeling, Greg straightened and turned around, but at the sight of the fuming

blonde advancing on him, he backed into the living room. "Wh-what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" she shouted. "What was that, that, that…
kiss
all about?"

"I thought you brought me here to…" He gestured helplessly toward the bedroom. "You know, for a good time."

Her eyes bugged. "
What?
How dare you!" She reached into the purse she'd set on the floor and withdrew a bottle of hair

spray. "Get out before I call the police!"

Incredulous, Greg shook his head. "But your ad—
arrgghhh!
" He clawed at his eyes, which were suddenly filled with

burning, clotting hair spray. "You're insane!" he gasped, blinded and feeling for the door. He found it, with the help of her foot

on his backside. Greg tumbled through the opening and landed facedown on musty, smelly carpet. The door slammed shut

behind him.

Greg lay there a few seconds before groaning and rolling to his back. Cursing under his breath, he rubbed his burning, watery

eyes and tried to sort out what had just happened. The woman was obviously an unstable individual who set up men, teased

them unmercifully, and then…what? Blackmailed them? Deciding he didn't want to wait to find out, Greg pushed himself to his

feet, fished his handkerchief from his back pocket, and escaped the building while mopping his stricken eyes.

This
was the reason he was single, and the reason Will would be better off as a bachelor, too. Women were like pet snakes

—damn unpredictable. If he never saw the statuesque blonde again, it would be too soon.

4

LANA OPENED HER DOOR
and peeked out into the empty hallway, hair spray poised. It looked as if Greg Healey—

assuming that was his real name—was long gone, the baboon. He obviously hadn't expected her to object to his pilfered kiss.

And in truth, the kiss had been quite remarkable, but it was where the kiss was leading that she had a problem with. Lana

pressed her fingers to her mouth, dizzy and a little perplexed as to why a guy who looked that good and kissed that well would

resort to answering a lousy roommate ad on the remote chance of getting lucky. Strange. Very strange.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the opposite direction, and for a second she thought he'd come back, or had lost his way since

his eyes were full of Aqua-Net. But instead, Jack Stillman loped around the corner, barefoot and wearing only jeans, his wet

hair and torso evidence that he'd just stepped out of the shower. Holy he-man—Alex was one lucky woman.

"What's all the commotion?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together. "Are you all right, Lana?"

She nodded, then waved in the direction of the exit. "Some guy answered my ad for a roommate, told me he was gay, and

agreed to see the place." A wry frown pulled one side of her mouth back. "Then he tried to cop a feel in the bedroom."

Jack was trying not to smile. "Are you converting gay men now?"

"You're such a comedian, Jack."

"Seriously, did the guy hurt you?"

"No."

"Then what was that loud thump?"

"I threw him out, and he sort of, um, bounced off the wall."

He shook his head. "Alex assures me you can take care of yourself, but
why
would you invite a stranger to your apartment?"

"He looked trustworthy. And like I said, he said he was gay." Then she frowned. "Or rather, he let me
think
he was gay."

Jack scratched his temple. "Couldn't you tell?"

"What a completely homophobic thing to say."

He sighed. "Forget it. Should I go after the guy?"

Lana thought about it, then shook her head. "Nah. I don't think he's dangerous."

"You also thought he was gay."

"Yeah, but I don't think he meant to harm me. In fact, I had the strangest feeling he was…
scared
of me when I resisted."

"
I'm
scared of you," Jack said. "So, did you hurt him?"

"He has a few bruises, I suppose. And I sprayed him in the face with this—" She held up the pump spray bottle. "Extra hold."

Jack winced. "Do you know his name, just in case he shows up again?"

"He
said
his name was Greg Healey."

Her neighbor's eyes widened. "Greg Healey?"

She nodded. "He said he was an attorney. Do you know him?"

A laugh exploded from Jack's mouth. "I used to know
a
Greg Healey. But it can't be the same guy."

"Mid-thirties, dark hair, stuffed shirt."

Jack pursed his mouth. "Sounds right, but the Greg Healey I knew was a wealthy SOB—he wouldn't have been looking for a

roommate. Damn unlikable. And for that matter, he wouldn't have been looking for a woman."

"Let me guess—he's gay?" she asked with an arched brow.

"No. But he was a seriously confirmed bachelor."

"Like you?" she teased, nodding toward the gleaming wedding band on his finger.

"More so," he assured her.

"Must be a different guy," she said with a shrug, wanting to erase the disturbing incident from her mind. "I guess I should

chalk it up to experience and get back to the coffee shop."

Jack shook his finger. "Don't invite strange men back to your apartment until you know what you're dealing with."

She stood erect and saluted. "Sir, yes, sir." Lana pretended to click her tennis shoe heels together, then returned to her

apartment for her purse and coat. But she was immensely troubled by the fact that equal to the relief for her safety, she felt a

curious sense of loss. She had sensed a connection between herself and Greg Healey, darn it, and had been looking forward to

a new friendship. Before he'd gone and ruined it all with that kiss of his.

Lana slipped her coat off Harry's shoulder, then angled her head at him. "I think we should make a pact, Harry old boy. If I

haven't found a decent man by the time I'm ninety-five, and you still have air left in you, what say we tie the knot?"

He stared at her with a big permanent grin.

"Oh, good grief, don't tell me
you're
gay." She sighed, tracing her finger around the lock of brown hair printed on his wide

forehead. "I don't blame you—the man was rather extraordinary looking, wasn't he?"

Harry's big vacant eyes looked at her pityingly.

"I know, I'm getting desperate." She laughed ruefully. "It must be the holidays. Just don't tell anyone, okay?" Lana planted a

kiss on his plastic cheek and walked out the door, trying to salvage her attitude. She wasn't about to give Greg Healey the

satisfaction of ruining her day—not when so many other things were vying for that special honor.

GREG'S LINGERING INCREDULITY
over his encounter with Lana Martina weighted his foot on the accelerator. The

black Porsche coupe responded well to his frustration, gripping the curves of the winding driveway leading to the three-story

house where he'd spent the majority of his life. His father had ordered that the sprawling structure on Versailles Road be

constructed from genuine limestone mined from fertile Kentucky ground. The Healey homestead was a virtual fortress, and

would be standing long after the family name died out.

And that would, quite possibly, happen fairly soon, since perpetuating the Healey name depended on his or Will's producing

offspring. His parents had intended that the rooms be filled with grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but they hadn't counted

on Greg's opposition to marriage, or on Will's special problems.

Flanked by towering hardwoods standing leafless but proud, the house never failed to lift his spirits. Until now. Now all he

wanted was to take a shower, rinse his stinging eyes, and change his clothing that reeked of musty carpet.

The woman could certainly defend herself, he conceded. Almost as well as she could kiss. Not that it mattered, since she

was a tease
and
a nut. He couldn't imagine how much that woman would have messed with Will's mind.

Spotting a large package by the front door, he parked in front of the four-car garage and made his way around the sweeping

sidewalk to the main entrance. He caught a glimpse of his disheveled self in the glass of the doors and was glad their

housekeeper, Yvonne, was away visiting her brother for a couple of days, or else she'd give him the third degree about his

appearance and his impromptu trip home in the middle of the day.

But when he realized that the carton contained the saddle he'd ordered for Will for Christmas, he was almost glad for the

incident; otherwise Will might have seen the box.
Almost
being the operative word, considering the bruises Coffee Girl had

inflicted upon his person and his pride. Still, Greg admitted with a wry smile as he wrestled the box inside the door, it would

be nice to surprise his brother for once.

"Whatcha got, Gregory?"

His brother's voice startled him so badly he nearly dropped the carton in the foyer. "Jesus, Will, I wasn't expecting you to be

here."

Will held up a thick sandwich. "I forgot to pack my lunch this morning. Want some help?"

"No, that's okay—"

With his free arm, Will took the box from him as if it were a bale of goose down. "Is it a new telescope?"

Greg blinked. He hadn't thought of his broken telescope in months, and it had come up twice today, once with Miss Looney

Tunes, and now with Will. "Er, yeah, it is," he lied, glad the return address label of Cloak's Saddlery had gone unnoticed.

"Good. I'll take it upstairs for you," Will said, hoisting the box to his shoulder while nonchalantly taking a bite out of the

sandwich.

Greg followed, shaking his head. He himself was a big man, but Will's stocky frame was solid muscle from his strenuous job

on Kelty's stud farm that bordered their property. The gentle giant carried the carton to Greg's suite and deposited it in a closet,

none the wiser that he'd just stowed his own gift.

Greg envied his brother sometimes—working outdoors, doing what he loved—and today was one of those times. Tugging on

his tie, he suddenly dreaded returning to that damnable corner office. As far as he was concerned, the Hyde Parkland rezoning

proposal couldn't be approved soon enough. He entertained a moment of vindictive pleasure at the knowledge that Lana

Martina would be out of a job—she'd regret she hadn't earned that four hundred dollars when she'd had the chance.

"Gregory, your eye is bruised. Did someone hit you?" Will leaned close for a better look.

He sighed and ran a hand over his eye, wishing he could think of a good lie. But Will had to know how risky the singles

scene could be. "I met Coffee Girl this morning."

His brother's eyes lit up. "You did?"

He hadn't told Will for this very reason—he hadn't wanted to give him false hope.

"Yes," Greg said, unbuttoning his sleeves. "She attacked me and sprayed hair spray in my eyes."

Will's head jutted forward. "Why?"

"Because she's—" At the wide-eyed innocence on his brother's face, he stopped and nodded toward a leather club chair.

"Have a seat while I wash up, huh, buddy?"

"Okay."

Greg walked into the adjoining bathroom, stripped his shirt and flushed his eyes with handfuls of cool, soothing water. Sure

enough, he'd gotten a shiner when he'd hit a wall—which wall, he wasn't sure. Pressing a towel against his tender eyelids, he

nearly groaned in blessed relief. Meanwhile his mind raced as he tried to decide how many details about the encounter he

should divulge to Will. Guilt churned in his stomach when he realized that his promise to help Will meet a girl had fled his

mind as soon as he set eyes on Lana Martina. In hindsight, he'd gotten exactly what he deserved for being so pettily distracted

from his goal.

"Are you okay, Gregory?"

He walked back into the bedroom, drying his face with the towel. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"So why did Coffee Girl attack you?" Will sat on the edge of his seat, wringing his big hands.

Greg dropped onto the side of his bed and slipped off his shoes. "Will, Coffee Girl isn't the woman for you."

His face fell. "Why not?"

"She's a…"
A lovely, bubbly, bright light whose medication wore off mid-kiss.
"She's a…um…" The only woman who'd

ever managed to kick up his libido
and
kick his ass. He sighed, fidgeting.

His brother stood abruptly. "You told her I was s-slow, and she doesn't want to meet me."

Feeling morose, Greg stood and held out his hand. "No, Will, that's not it. In fact, I didn't even get to the point of mentioning

your name."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Trust me, buddy, this woman is…weird."

"Most people think
I'm
weird, Gregory."

Greg smiled. "No, I mean this lady is…" He floundered for words that would nip this whole singles ad business in the bud.

"She's mentally unstable."

Will's expression was one of near fright. "Coffee Girl is crazy?"

"As a bat."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah, but I'm afraid that's the kind of desperate person who places those ads."