Seeking Single Male (6 page)

Will bit into his lip. "But I'm desperate, too."

"You're not desperate," Greg said, putting his arm around Will. "You're just impatient. Relax, okay?"

"Okay, Gregory. I know you'll help me find the right girl."

Greg pasted on a smile and bit his tongue to keep from saying such a girl didn't exist—for either one of them.

Will jerked his thumb toward the door. "I have to go back to the farm. They're bringing in Miner's Nephew today."

At last, something to really smile about. His brother loved his job, and the Keltys were good people to have given him the

chance to prove himself.

"Can I look through your new telescope tonight, Gregory?"

He nodded, thinking now he had no choice but to buy a new telescope. And he gave quiet thanks that Will hadn't dwelled on

Coffee Girl. After Will left, Greg showered quickly and changed into more casual clothes. He only wished
he
were able to

dismiss Lana Martina so easily. The bizarre encounter plagued him as he jogged downstairs, and as he drove toward the

science museum gift shop.

One minute she'd been enjoying the kiss as much as he, then she'd gone completely berserk. Maybe he'd simply been too

assertive, or maybe—oh, hell, he'd probably never know what had caused the woman to snap.

Finally, the idea of buying a new telescope pushed troubling thoughts of Lana Martina from his mind. He called Peg to let her

know he'd be late returning from lunch. "Any messages?"

"Just two, sir. The closing on the Toler building has been moved to the twenty-third. And Art Payton called about the Friday

rezoning meeting for the Hyde Parkland area. He can't attend because of a family emergency, and his key managers are

committed elsewhere. Wanted you to know so you could send someone else, perhaps Ms. Hughs or Mr. Weber, sir?"

He hadn't been to a rezoning meeting in ages—usually they were routine and uncontested. But his future and Will's rested on

the outcome of this particular meeting, so he wanted to ensure their interests were represented. Vigorously.

"Add the meeting to my schedule, Peg. I'll go." He hung up the phone and tried on a smile. Finally, something to look forward

to.

5

"THE DOCTOR WHO WRAPPED
my ankle was dreamy," Annette said as she slid the tray of cranberry Danishes into

place. "But he was married, darn it, with four kids."

Lana rolled her eyes at yet another chapter in Annette's manhunt. The woman was a grown-up version of Little Orphan

Annie, her petite figure overwhelmed by a helmet of wild red curls. Lana typically endured the woman's nonstop chatter good-

naturedly, but her own usual good mood had been compromised by an unexplainable preoccupation with the man who'd called

himself Greg Healey. All last evening she'd been restless, fidgety and irritated. Even a formidable amount of cake icing eaten

straight from the carton hadn't helped.

Annette sighed dramatically. "I'll never get to wear my wedding gown."

Lana bit her tongue. Everyone who knew Annette had seen the wedding gown she'd been working on for going on ten years,

because she carried it around in the back of her van on a mannequin.

"Mr. Right is out there somewhere, Lana, I just know it," Annette continued. "And he's looking for me, too."

"Well, if he's looking for you, I hope he likes coffee."

"From your mouth to God's ear. Hey, speaking of looking, have you found a roommate?"

Lana's laugh was as dry as yesterday's biscotti. "No, but I found a certified weirdo."

The pastry chef's eyes lit up curiously. "What happened?"

"A guy came in yesterday and said he was here about the ad. I asked him if he met all the requirements, meaning was he gay,

and he said yes. He seemed all right, maybe a little stuffy, but definitely good-looking. But when I took him to see the

apartment, he made a pass at me, right in the bedroom!"

Annette's face had gone totally white.

Lana laughed. "Oh, don't worry—I shot his eyes full of hair spray. But it was all very bizarre."

"Was his name Greg something-or-other?"

A tiny alarm went off in Lana's brain. "Do you
know
him?"

Annette touched a hand to her forehead. "Lana…oh my goodness, I completely forgot. A guy called about the singles ad I put

in the paper, and I told him to meet me here yesterday at eleven a.m."

Lana's throat tightened—the timing was right. "You're running singles ads now?"

Annette nodded, her face red.

She gripped the counter. "What did your ad say, exactly?"

While Annette scrambled to find the magazine, Lana's mind swirled with the implication of a missed connection.

"Here it is," Annette said, smoothing the page on the counter. "' Lexington, Kentucky: Single female in mid-twenties seeking

single male for good times. Horse lover a plus. I'm a good cook. Coffee Girl.'"

"Coffee Girl?" Lana murmured, remembering the man's puzzling enquiry.

"I thought it fit," Annette said with a sheepish shrug. "And I thought meeting in a public place was a good idea."

She had to sit down to sort through it all—while ignoring the tiny thrill that he'd mistaken her for someone in her mid-

twenties. "You mean this guy I thought was answering my roommate ad was actually answering your singles ad?"

"I'm sorry, Lana. With going to the doctor and all, I forgot that I asked him to meet me here." She leaned in close. "But you

said he was cute?"

Lana barely heard Annette as snatches of her conversation with Greg Healy came back to her and she realized how

incriminating her words had been. She closed her eyes and managed a small hysterical laugh. He must have thought she was

propositioning him. And being a red-blooded male, he'd accepted.

Then Lana froze as his other comments floated back to her. She swallowed a lump of mortification that lodged in her throat.

Holy hooker! The man thought she was propositioning him, all right—for
money.

"Lana," Annette said loudly, yanking her back to the present.

"Huh?"

The redhead's eyes glowed with hope. "You said he was cute?"

"I…guess so. But he made a pass at me, remember?"

"Well, you took him back to your apartment!"

"Yeah, but…if he were a decent guy, he wouldn't have gone!"

Annette's mouth was grim. "You're absolutely right. Any guy who would be that forward wouldn't be willing to wait until the

wedding night, would he?"

Another one of Annette's romantic fantasies—that her gentleman prince would be willing to wait until their wedding night

before consummating their relationship. Lana remembered Greg Healey's hot kiss, the split-second hardness of his sex against

her thigh. "Er, no, he didn't strike me as the waiting type."

"Oh well, I'm just relieved that nothing bad happened. Thanks, Lana, for weeding out another loser."

Lana smirked. "That's me, the jerk strainer."

Annette grinned. "I'll bet he got more than he bargained for when he made that pass."

Lana returned a weak smile.

"Well, I'd better unload the rest of the doughnuts before the doors open."

When Annette exited to the back room, Lana rubbed her breastbone. Her internal organs had begun behaving strangely at the

news that Greg Healey might not be the pervert she had originally thought. She swallowed hard, realizing that maybe Mr.

Healey wasn't the only one who'd gotten more than he bargained for when he'd made that pass.

The alien sensation stayed with her throughout the day. Business was good due to a college sports conference going on

downtown, and she found herself watching the door for the appearance of Greg Healey's tall, broad figure. It was silly, she

knew, because the only reason the guy would come back would be to sue her for blinding him.

Her neighbor Jack's comments came back to her, and she idly wondered if this Greg Healey was the same rich SOB bachelor

Jack used to know, after all. But if what Jack said was true, the Greg Healey he knew would be even less prone to answer a

singles ad than an ad for a roommate.

She frowned. Unless the man simply shopped the singles ads for sex.

Her opinion of him continued to flip-flop. Lana even debated whether she should try to contact him and explain the

misunderstanding. But she suspected he wouldn't find the situation quite so humorous.

No, better to let sleeping dogs lie. She'd lived in Lexington most of her adult life and had crossed paths with Greg Healey

once. The chances of it happening again were astronomical.

Of course, when she arrived home that night, it occurred to her that he knew where she lived. She would certainly feel better

if she'd found a roommate, but she'd had no luck.

"You're too picky," Alex chided her when she came over that night to bring a velvet footstool she said she didn't want to haul

to the new house. "And you should be careful about who you let in your apartment."

Lana sighed. "I suppose Jack told you what happened yesterday?"

"We have no secrets."

"Are you interested in hearing the rest of the story?"

Alex sat down on the yellow couch. "Absolutely."

Lana dropped onto the blue beanbag chair and watched as little foam balls went flying out of the tired seams. "The guy

actually thought he was meeting someone who placed a singles ad."

Alex squinted. "Hmm?"

"My pastry chef, Annette, placed a singles ad and asked the guy to meet her at the coffee shop."

Her friend's eyes widened. "And he thought you were—"

"—looking for more than a roommate when I invited him up to see the apartment."

"Oh, that's hysterical."

"Oh, yeah, I'm still laughing about it," she said, rolling her eyes.

Alex tilted her head. "Wait a minute—why
aren't
you laughing? Did this guy scare you more than you're letting on?"

"Oh, no. He backed off as soon as I put up resistance."

"What is it, then?"

She laid her head back, wishing she could put her finger on this elusive unease. "It's nothing."

Alex gasped. "I don't believe it. You actually
liked
this guy, didn't you."

Lana lifted her head. "Are you insane?"

But her friend wore the most infuriatingly triumphant expression.

"That's it! You dig this Greg Healey." She clasped her hands together. "I'll have Jack call him up and—"

"Oh, no, you won't," Lana warned, shaking her finger. "I do not like this guy. I just…don't like the idea of him thinking I'm…

loose."

"But he doesn't even know you."

"He knows my name and where I work and where I live. God only knows how many people he could tell."

Alex arched an eyebrow. "You practically beat him up. I'd say the man has as much incentive to keep it quiet as you do."

She frowned. "I guess you're right."

"Besides, if you're so worried about it, why don't you call him and set the record straight?" Alex suggested with a sly smile.

Lana frowned harder. "No, thanks."

"Okay," Alex said with a shrug. "If you change your mind—"

"I won't."

Alex relented with a nod, then gestured toward the ornament-laden evergreen. "I think it's leaning. Shall I warn the people in

the apartment beneath you?"

Lana grinned, but her friend's awkward small talk alerted her to something more serious. "What's wrong, Alex? Wait a

minute—you didn't come down to bring me a footstool, did you."

Sighing, her friend shook her head. "No. I came to show you this." From her jacket pocket she removed a folded sheet of

paper and handed it to Lana.

Alex's father owned Tremont's, an upscale department store chain based in Lexington. Their downtown location occupied a

city block, and they rented most of the first floor to eateries and service businesses. The space was expensive and in high

demand, and overseeing the signing of the best mix of businesses was only part of Alex's job as the new president. The letter in

Lana's hand was an enquiry about space from Buckhead Coffee. Dread flooded her chest. Buckhead was only the biggest, most

commercial coffee chain in the country. The company had two locations in Louisville, but hadn't yet entered the Lexington

market.

"We probably don't have the kind of space they're looking for," Alex said quickly.

"But they'll find it somewhere," Lana finished.

"But you already have lots of competition, and you're going strong."

Lana sighed. "But that's primarily due to my location, which is subject to change, depending on the outcome of the rezoning

proposal before the council."

"Don't worry about this before you have to," Alex urged, standing. "I just wanted you to be forearmed."

Lana thanked her and walked her to the door. "This is good timing, at least. I have two days to come up with a brilliant

speech for the council meeting."

"Do you know if the owner will be there?"

She nodded. "I called Regal Properties myself, and they guaranteed that a representative who had decision authority would

be present. The shop owners are spoiling for a fight."

"I'll be there to cheer you on." Alex gave her a smile of encouragement. "But you might want to leave the hair spray at home."

Lana laughed. "I will. Besides, I daresay a lady-killer like Greg Healey won't be anywhere in the vicinity of a city council

meeting on a Friday night."

6

"YOU'RE STILL WEARING
your suit, Gregory. Do you have a date tonight?"