Seeking Single Male (9 page)

what they'd been talking
about.

"I'd like to check in with you both before we meet again, just to make sure everyone is working toward a resolution." The

woman maintained a pleasant expression, but her eyes glittered a warning at Greg. Lana realized that president Wheeler was

the friend of Alex's father who had been informed of the owner's lack of communication with the tenants. Not enough to sway

the woman's vote, much less the entire council, but at least she was putting Greg Healey on notice.

"Of course," Greg said cordially, then removed a business card from an expensive-looking holder. As if as an afterthought,

he extended one to Lana, as well.

She took it, her fingers carefully avoiding contact with his. His intense gaze skimmed over her, and she wished she could

read his mind. Was he contrite? Shamed? Angry? Lana glanced away to rummage through her bag for her own business card

and wound up dumping the contents on the floor before coming up with a handful. Greg Healey glanced at the neon-orange card

cut in the shape of a coffee cup before he dropped it into his jacket pocket.

"Very original," president Wheeler said of the card. "And may I congratulate you on an impressive presentation, Ms.

Martina."

"Thank you."

"I'm aware that you've taken a leadership role in many community issues, and I applaud your involvement. How do you feel

about working directly with Mr. Healey on this matter?"

Caught off guard, Lana chanced a glance in his direction. His thick eyebrows came together and he shook his head ever so

slightly.

"I—"

"Ms. Wheeler," Greg cut in with a disarming smile, "I've been thinking that my manager, Ms. Hughs, would be a more

appropriate person to handle this project."

The woman shot Greg a stern look. "Mr. Healey, I think
you
are the appropriate person to handle this project. If that's

agreeable to you, Ms. Martina?"

Lana pursed her lips and shrugged. "I'm nothing if not agreeable." She added a broad smile for emphasis.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "In that case, I'm certain that Ms. Martina and I will be able to reach a
friendly
compromise for

the good of the city."

Lana swallowed at the unfriendly way the man said "friendly."

"I'm betting on it," the president said, her tone bordering on parental. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

And the next thing Lana knew, she was alone with Greg and a big, fat, awkward silence.

"Well," she said, clasping her hands and rocking back on her heels.

"Well." The muscle in his jaw ticked again.

She sighed. "Look, what happened was pretty darn embarrassing for both of us, so why don't we just forget about it?"

Tic.
"Fine with me."

The firm set of his mouth conjured up memories of the ill-fated kiss, pricking her senses. The roar of voices around them

swelled, insulating them in a cocoon of awareness. In his black suit and ultraconservative tie, dark-headed, dark-eyed Greg

Healey was quite possibly the best-looking man she'd ever seen. She wet her lips. Pity he had so many issues.

"Gregory?"

She turned to see the big man who'd given her his seat approaching. Her heart squeezed when she remembered he had

clapped for his brother.

"Gregory, you were great."

And right before her eyes, Greg Healey transformed back into Science Club guy. "Thanks, pal."

"You were good, too," the brother said to Lana.

"Thank you." She extended her hand. "I'm Lana Martina."

He grinned. "I'm William Healey. But you can call me Will."

His good mood was like a breath of fresh air in the stifling atmosphere. "It's very nice to meet you, Will. Thank you again for

giving up your seat. Are you interested in city politics?"

He shook his head. "I came because Gregory said there would be girls here."

She shot an amused expression toward "Gregory," who seemed less amused, but more tolerant of his brother than of…

anyone else.

"Will, I'm sure Ms. Martina isn't interested in our
private
conversations."

"I'm riveted," she assured them with a little laugh, "but I really must get back to work. Good night, gentlemen."

"Do you need a ride?" Will offered.

She hadn't driven her moped because of the rain, and, in truth, she was dreading trying to find a taxi, but she wasn't about to

test that look of warning on Greg Healey's face. "Thanks, anyway."

"But we have the big car," Will continued. "And plenty of room, don't we, Gregory?"

Greg poked his tongue into his cheek and nodded.

Suddenly gripped with a wicked urge to provoke the man, Lana brightened. "Well, since you have the
big
car…"

GREG WATCHED AS
Will tucked Lana into the front passenger seat, holding an umbrella over her so she wouldn't melt.

Greg slung water from the sleeves of his all-weather coat, then swung behind the wheel. His mind still reeled from her

pronouncement that when she'd taken him back to her apartment, the only thing she'd been offering was a room to rent. Damn,

she must think him a pervert. No wonder she'd gone on the attack.

Embarrassment coursed through him at their proximity. For such a slender woman, she seemed to fill up the roomy cab.

But in his own defense, damn it, she'd
heard
him call her Coffee Girl—she should have known which one of her ads he'd

been responding to. Jeez. Looking for love in one ad, and looking for a roommate in another. Complicated.

She sighed musically, as if he needed to be reminded that she was within arm's reach. He kept his gaze straight ahead,

wondering what about this woman had made him forget himself that day to the point of considering
paying
her to sleep with

him. Good God. On hindsight, the idea seemed so ludicrous, he should have known something was wrong. He'd never before

allowed his lust for a woman to override his good sense.

For some reason Greg couldn't yet pinpoint, this woman was hazardous to his judgment, and right now all he wanted to do

was put as much distance between himself and Lana Martina as possible. He'd sort things out at home. Alone. He latched on to

the steering wheel with a grip meant to drain some of his frustration. His brother, on the other hand, was grinning like a fool as

he closed the door and climbed into the back seat.

"This certainly is a big car," Lana said, surveying the interior of the four-door Mercedes.

"It was our dad's," Will said, leaning forward to stick his head between their seats. "He died seven years ago."

"I'm so sorry."

"Will," Greg chided as he turned over the engine. "I doubt that Ms. Martina wants the history of the Healey brothers." He'd

never seen his brother so talkative around a stranger.

Her white teeth flashed in the dark. "Since we're going to be working together, why don't you call me 'Lana'?"

She smelled sweet, but then so did rat poison. "Okay," he murmured through gritted teeth.
"Lana."

"Since you own a coffee shop, Lana, you must like coffee, huh?" Will asked.

Concerned about the potential direction of the conversation, Greg cleared his throat noisily as he set the car in motion. "Will,

why don't you sit back?" The last thing he needed was for his brother to find out she was Coffee Girl—his "intended."

But Lana's pleasing laugh filled the car. "Actually, Will, I have a confession to make."

Will's eyes bugged. "What is it?"

Greg pulled out into the traffic, mentally mapping the shortest route to The Best Cuppa Joe. "Will, sit back, please."

He did, for which Greg was thankful, although he remained riveted on their passenger. "What's your confession, Lana?"

"I don't like coffee."

"Really?"

Greg scoffed. "You're kidding."

"Nope. I drink tea."

"Don't you think it's a little hypocritical not to consume what you sell?"

"It's not just coffee that I sell," she protested. "I sell an experience—the aroma, the crowd, the gaming tables, the music.

That's what my customers pay for when they buy a cup of coffee."

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