Читать книгу Seeking Single Male - Stephanie Bond, Stephanie Bond - Страница 10

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.”

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.