Seeking Single Male (19 page)

"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 Will 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.

But as they drove through the Hyde Parkland area, Lana saw every empty building, every overgrown lot, every graffitied bus

stop, as if she were seeing it all for the first time. What had a week ago seemed like vintage charm, now smacked of urban

neglect. Maybe Greg was right. Maybe the area needed renovation and a parking garage more than it needed a coffee shop.

She studied Greg's profile with grudging respect. She'd been little more than a thorn in his side since they met, yet he had

taken the step to repair the lines of communication last Sunday when he and Will had come into the shop. A curious little

quiver of revelation bloomed in her breast, stealing her breath. She was overwhelmed with the urge to touch him, to spend time

with him, even if they were arguing. As crazy as her life had been the past couple of weeks, she'd never felt more alive. Was it

possible to be in love with someone she barely knew?

Kissing noises sounded from the back seat. Maybe
so,
she conceded wryly. With Will and Annette, it had been love at first

sight—ironic since it was Greg who had answered Annette's ad. Considering the way things had turned out, though, she was

planning to keep that tidbit to herself.

Lana shook her head. Falling in love with Greg Healey—how dumb could she be? Not only was he one of the most

unavailable men in the city, but their goals were so different. Even if the man were looking for a significant other—which he

wasn't—a relationship between them would never work. Had she inherited her mother's knack for gravitating to men who were

wrong for her? Lana chanced a glance sideways, wondering how hard Greg Healey would laugh if he could read her mind right

now.

GREG WOULD HAVE GIVEN
anything to be able to read Lana's mind. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet during their

ride, forcing Greg to turn up the stereo to drown out the enthusiastic kissing in the back seat. And while his concern for Will

remained uppermost in his mind, another concern had been gaining momentum over the past few days: his overwhelming

attraction to Lana Martina. He didn't know what to make of this woman who had walked away from a lucrative field to become

a struggling entrepreneur. Who sold coffee but drank tea, and played chess like a genius. Who volunteered time, space and

resources to causes he merely read about in the Sunday paper. He glanced at her profile with new respect. Despite her quirks,

Lana seemed to be a person of principle.

Greg pulled at his too-tight collar. Between their near miss at her apartment, and Will making out in the back seat like a

teenager, Greg was no longer in the mood to go to the Christmas party.

Two weeks ago Art had called with what had seemed like the best news of his life. How had things deteriorated so rapidly?

When they walked into the small ballroom of the hotel, every person in the room craned for a look at Lana. Unreasonable

pride swelled in Greg's chest. She
was
magnificent in that long, clingy black dress, and tonight she was on his arm. He'd

always felt out of place at the company get-togethers because he'd always felt out of place at the helm of his father's company.

But while he retrieved a glass of wine for each of them, he watched as Lana made the rounds, shaking hands and charming his

employees, and was struck by the difference one person could make in a roomful of people…or in an organization.

Art Payton walked up to him, holding a hefty drink. "Who's the filly?"

Greg frowned. "Her name is Lana Martina. She owns a coffee shop in the building we have designated as a parking garage in

the Hyde Parkland parcel."

Art nodded. "Best Cuppa Joe."

"You know the place?"

"Used to hang out there when I was single, about a hundred years ago."

He sighed. "Art, I've been thinking that maybe we should try to save some of the buildings down there, after all—you know,

in the spirit of preservation."

Art's eyes narrowed. "You're not serious."

"Just thinking about it. Can you run some numbers for me?"

"I don't have to. If you start changing that parcel now, you're liable to spook all the developers, which means a big goose

egg." Art elbowed him in the ribs and nodded to Lana. "And the spirit that's moving you, son, has nothing to do with

preservation."

Greg frowned. "Just run the numbers."

He carried their wineglasses across the room and stopped where Lana was chatting with a knot of employees that included

Peg. "They were out of cranberry juice. Is chardonnay okay?"

She gave him a heart-stalling smile. "Sure. Thank you."

He was vaguely aware that his employees were staring at him—especially his secretary. "Is something wrong, Peg?"

"Um, no, sir. The time off you took last week agrees with you, sir. You look…different."

Her words registered, but Greg couldn't take his eyes off Lana. She was a good conversationalist, and a natural people

person. She was telling a humorous story that had everyone riveted, him included. When she finished, she launched into another

topic of conversation. She held court for nearly an hour. Greg watched her unobtrusively while he walked the perimeter of the

ballroom, shaking hands. His mood was buoyant tonight and he felt pretty certain it was because of Lana.

"I thought you weren't bringing a date, sir," Peg whispered at one point in the evening.

"She isn't a date," he murmured back. "We're working together on a project—you know that."

"Ms. Martina is beautiful, sir."

He looked at the owlish woman, noticing for the first time that she was wearing makeup. And did she always wear her hair

like that? "Peg, why do you punctuate almost every sentence with 'sir'?"

She blinked. "Because, sir—I mean, because, um…it just seems right."

"But you called my father by his first name."

She fidgeted with her purse. "But your father, sir—I mean, your father, well, he was…friendly."

"Friendly?"

"You know, a nice man. Sir."

Her words knifed through him. "Nice?"

"Yes, sir. Nice."

Greg glanced around the room at the faces of the people who worked for him. He knew very few of them by their first names,

and he knew nothing about their families, their hobbies, their concerns. They stood more than an arm's length from him when

they spoke, and looked downright uncomfortable when he approached. The truth of Peg's comparison hit him hard. He wasn't a

nice guy. Not like his father, not like Will.

Will.

His immediate concerns were put on hold when he realized he hadn't seen Will and his date for some time. "Peg, have you

seen Will?"

"He left, sir."

Greg swallowed hard. "What?"

"I heard him tell Ms. Martina that he was taking a taxi home, sir."

To have sex,
he thought instantly. Right now, Will and that Annette person were having sex in Will's bed. She'd be pregnant,

and Will would insist on marrying her. Greg strode to Lana's side and pulled her away from the crowd. "We have to go."

"What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me that Will and Annette left?"

She shrugged. "They were bored, so they went to your house."

"To do what?"

She frowned. "Probably to be alone."

He took her empty wineglass and handed it to a passing waiter. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"To my house. Yvonne is away visiting, and they can't be alone."

"Greg, they're consenting adults. Besides, I don't think they're going to do anything."

"You saw them in the car!"

"They were
kissing,
for heaven's sake."

"I'm going home to check on them. Are you coming with me or not?"

She sighed. "Only to keep you from doing something you'll regret."

19

"IT'S BEAUTIFUL
," Lana murmured, as they made their way up a lighted stone walkway. Actually, "beautiful" was an

understated adjective for the limestone mansion. Holy hotel. "Did you grow up here?"

He nodded absently, scanning the lighted windows, oblivious to her awe. "They've definitely been here." He unlocked the

door and swung it open, then gestured for her to precede him.

"Just for the record, I don't think this is a good idea," she said as she walked into a foyer large enough to host a dinner party.

He closed the door, his head cocked for sound—but only silence greeted them. Thank goodness. She had visions of him

crashing in on Will and Annette in an intimate embrace.

"Will?" he called, but there was no answer. He dropped his keys on a table in the hall and walked straight ahead, past a

sweeping staircase and toward a lighted room. Lana followed, ogling the gray-and-pink marble tile laid down in a

checkerboard pattern. She glimpsed a monstrous living room on one side, a gigantic dining room on the other. She felt like

Alice in Wonderland, shrunk to miniature.

Their footsteps clicked against the smooth tile as they entered a gargantuan kitchen with
two
refrigerators, commercial grade.