Seeking Single Male. Stephanie Bond
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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.
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