Seeking Single Male

“No, thank you.” Only because his swallowing reflex was behaving strangely.

She gestured for him to sit, and they claimed opposite sides of the booth. Lana Martina was lean and long-limbed, and moved like a dancer. She also seemed completely at ease, so much so that he wondered how long she’d been placing singles ads. In his mind, he filled in the blanks: She worked a minimum-wage job at a coffee shop, and was hoping to snag a vulnerable, wealthy man. Like Will.

“Have you had a lot of responses to your ad?” he asked, at a loss for protocol.

“Several,” she admitted, then smiled. “But you’re the first person I’ve met face-to-face, so you’ll have the best shot.”

He blinked. First come, first served?

She looked around, then dipped her chin conspiratorially. “Look, this is a little awkward, but I have to ask—do you meet all the, um…requirements?”

“Requirements?” Those eyes of hers were mesmerizing, and so incredibly large. With a start he realized she was referring to the items in her ad—being a horse lover and someone who appreciates good cooking. Well, he wasn’t a horseman like Will, but he could hold his own at the dinner table. “Uh, sure. And I make a pretty mean omelette myself.” Had he said that?

She pursed her mouth as if impressed. “So, Greg, when were you looking to make a move?”

The woman was nothing if not to the point. Wiping his palms on his slacks, he said, “Well, I thought I might find out a little more about you first, like…where you live.”

She laughed, nodding. “Sorry, I was getting a little ahead of myself. My apartment is on Wisteria, walking distance from here.”

“I’m familiar with this area.” He should be—he and Art had discussed it in depth yesterday afternoon. In fact, the hazing of this building and the one next door were critical to their plans. Coffee Girl would be out of a job—but those were the breaks.

“Listen,” she said. “I can step out for a moment. Why don’t we go over to my apartment right now?”

Her words obliterated all real-estate-related thoughts. “Right now?”

She shrugged. “Sure. You seem like a nice guy.”

He wasn’t a nice guy—everyone said so. But his neglected sex stirred. He could be a nice guy for an hour or so.

“That is, if you like me,” she added.

So…while he was cooped up in his corner office, this kind of stuff was going on all over the city. Men and women hooking up through singles ads for hot rendezvouses. Greg tingled with naiveté. No wonder he felt as if life were passing him by. He swallowed hard. “Wh-what’s not to like?”

Her smile lit up the room. “Great. Give me a sec to grab my coat and purse.”

The mention of her purse rang a bell. He needed to know if this was a business transaction. “Um, speaking of money…”

She dismissed his worry with a flip of her wrist. “If you like it, we’ll talk about money later.”

Greg’s stomach and mind churned with indecision as she walked away. She removed her red apron, revealing a stunning silhouette. Seeking single male for good times. His collar felt moist. He ran his hand over his mouth. He’d never done anything remotely like this in his thirty-five years.

But when Lana turned her smile in his direction, Greg discarded rational thought. Why not? Why the hell not? He’d spent his life looking after his brother, his family’s business—satisfying external obligations. Because he had no desire for a messy emotional relationship, his physical needs had gone unfulfilled. And here was Lady Luck, standing before him in a snug Christmas sweater. He was going for it, damn it. Merry Christmas to me.

She rejoined him, now hatless and pulling on a black-and-white spotted, fake fur coat more befitting of a ten-year-old. But he supposed most women with her, er, hobby were a tad on the flamboyant side.

“Are you ready?” she asked, hooking her arm through his in a familiar way that both startled and pleased him.

Greg’s thoughts turned to the pocket in his wallet where he kept protection. If memory served, he had two condoms stashed there. Male satisfaction swelled in his chest. “I’m ready.”

LANA SLID HER GAZE sideways at the handsome man walking next to her. The day was definitely looking up. The first person to respond to her ad seemed like a pretty cool guy, even if he was a little stiff. Greg Healey was certainly one of the most masculine gay men she’d ever met. She was a tall woman, and he was a full head taller. His profile was strong, his shoulders wide, his stride assertive. A bizarre thrill raced through her at his proximity, causing Lana to chastise herself. She wasn’t the type of woman who would try to “convert” a gay man, but if she found out that he was intelligent on top of looking good, she was going to be supremely irritated.

Meanwhile, she liked him. There was something…undiscovered about him. In fact, she’d bet her tea bag that he was very recently out of the closet.

“So, Greg, what do you do for a living?” she asked, a few steps down the block.

“I’m an attorney,” he said. From the tone of his voice, he wasn’t in love with his job. Little wonder, if he didn’t make enough money to afford his own apartment. When he glanced at his watch, she said, “Don’t worry—this shouldn’t take long, so you can get right back to work.”

He coughed, and Lana hoped he didn’t have any kind of weird allergies, such as to rubber. Choosing between this guy and Harry, her blow-up doll, would be tough. “Any hobbies?”

“Hmm?” He looked as if she’d spoken in a foreign language.

“Hobbies?” she repeated with a laugh. “If we’re going to be spending so much time together, I’d just like to know if you have any strange pastimes.”

“I have a telescope,” he said, then his cheeks reddened. “I mean, I used to enjoy astronomy.”

Ah, a Science Club guy—how sweet. “Used to?”

“My job is rather demanding. I don’t have a lot of free time.”

“I can relate. What else should I know about you?”

He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

Lana laughed. “Well, do you sleepwalk?”

At last he cracked a smile, an extraordinary smile that transformed his grave features. “No, I don’t sleepwalk.”

“Good, because I live on the third floor.”

He suddenly looked uncertain, and his step slowed.

She winked. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

He ran his hand over his dark hair. The movement revealed the barest glints of silver. Suddenly he stopped, and a bemused expression came over his face. “Listen, um, Lana, this is pretty new to me.”

Poor guy, he was still wrestling with coming out. “Don’t worry,” she said, laying a comforting hand on his arm. “I’ll help you as much as I can. I want us to be friends, you know.”

In fact, until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she missed having someone with whom she could share little things. Oh sure, Alex lived just down the hall—but Jack was there now, too, and they were building a home on Versailles Road, where the rich of Lexington migrated to live among endangered horse farms. She sensed an uncommon connection with Greg and hoped he would feel comfortable with her, too.

He shook his head. “But the money—”

“Hey, I’m fairly flexible. My rent is due on the first of the month, so as long as you pay me the day before, we’re square.”

He pursed his mouth. “Exactly how much money are we talking about?”

Ah—he was broke. A man who lived above his means, by the looks of his suit, and who probably hated the thought of having to share an apartment. Well, at least the man had good taste in clothing, even if he erred a bit on the Republican side. She smiled. “Four hundred a month.”

He studied her, as if sizing up what kind of a roommate she’d make. “In return for?”