Seeking Single Male. Stephanie Bond

coffee and murmured her approval. “Nice hat, by the way.”

      Lana flicked the fuzzy ball at the end of the floppy red Santa hat. “Thanks. I wanted to go for the elf shoes, too, but my crew threatened to quit.”

      “Speaking of crew, where’s Annette?”

      “She sprained her ankle this morning, and I didn’t want her to have to stand on it all day.”

      Alex tilted her head. “You look exhausted. Maybe you should sell yourself a cup of your energy blend.”

      “I’m not that desperate yet,” Lana said, laughing. She pulled a bag of Earl Grey tea from beneath the counter and dropped it into a mug, then added steaming water from a dispenser. Janet, a bona fide Anglophile, had introduced her to tea as a youngster, and to tea she remained loyal.

      “I guess I’m just stressed out over this roommate situation,” Lana said. “I’m glad to be rid of Vile Vicki, but I can’t afford to keep paying the entire rent much longer.” Not and cover the lease on the coffee shop space, and the short-term note for new equipment, and the payments for the additional cash registers, refrigerator and pastry case.

      “If you need a loan—”

      Lana cut off her friend with a look. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.” If she could squeak by for another year, she’d be able to pocket some of the profits instead of sinking all the money back into the business.

      Alex relented with a nod. “Any responses from your roommate ads?”

      They claimed a small square table painted with a redand-black gameboard. Lana sat back in a padded chair and shook her head. “A couple dozen oddballs I wouldn’t even consider.”

      “Oh, that’s rich—you calling someone an oddball.”

      Lana pulled a face, then reached behind her to retrieve the magazine that lay discarded on a table. “I let Annette talk me into placing an ad, so maybe I’ll hear something before Christmas, although it’s a lousy time of the year to be looking for a roommate.”

      Alex leaned forward when Lana pointed out her ad:

      Lexington, KY: SF seeking roommate, F or GM, nonsmoker, preferably sane and willing to share kitchen duties.

      “GM?” her friend asked.

      “Gay male,” Lana said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want some straight guy getting the wrong idea about the sleeping arrangements.”

      “Oh, I don’t know,” Alex teased, tapping her finger on the singles ads on the next page. “Maybe you should’ve placed a combination ad and killed two birds with one stone.”

      “Oh, please. Don’t start.”

      “You were the one hounding me to get a man before I met Jack.”

      “That was before I bought the coffee shop. Now I don’t have time for scratch-off lottery tickets, much less a man.”

      “Are the ads national?”

      “Yep.”

      “Well, you should be able to find a roommate over the entire country,” Alex agreed, grinning over the brim of her cup.

      Lana frowned. “Are you saying that I’m too picky?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Well, do you blame me, after living with that witch for so long?”

      Alex blew onto the surface of her drink. “I’m just wondering how much of the animosity for your former roommate had to do with the fact that she went out with the only man you ever cared about.”

      Ignoring the flash of pain that the memory of Bill Friar conjured up, Lana wagged her finger. “Thought I cared about. Bill Friar is a low-life cheat who was threatened by a woman smarter than he is.” She’d trusted him, the cad. Lately she’d been pondering whether the problem was that she was too trusting of the people she cared about, or perversely drawn to untrustworthy people—excluding Alex, of course.

      “Lana, you’re smarter than anyone I know. Maybe you should start accepting invitations to those Mensa meetings to find a date.”

      “What? Holy hallucinogen, Alex, you know the only reason I maintain my membership in that uppity organization is for the insurance.”

      “Afraid of hooking up with a thinking man?”

      She frowned at her friend. “No. I’d love to find a man with a big brain. But most eggheads are just that—eggheads. No life, no passion. Now, finding a man with a big brain and a big—”

      The phone rang, cutting off her tirade, and spurring Alex’s laughter. Lana sprang for the receiver. “Best Cuppa Joe, this is Lana. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and a Cheery Kwanza.”

      “Lana, this is Marshall Ballou.”

      Of Ballou’s Antique Clothing Boutique at the end of the block. “Hey, Marsh. What’s up?”

      “I just picked up my mail. Did you know there’s a rezoning meeting this Friday?”

      Black dread ballooned in her stomach—so the rumor was true. “I hadn’t heard yet, but of course I’ll be there.”

      “I was hoping you’d say that, hon, because I was just talking to Vic and Paige and Maxie, and we’d like for you to be our spokeswoman.”

      She lifted her eyebrows. “Me?”

      “What do you say?”

      “I say you must be desperate.”

      “Quite the contrary, my dear, you’re perfect. And we need you. The company that owns the property thinks they can railroad this rezoning plan through because it’s our busy season and we won’t notice.”

      Lana swallowed to force down the bad taste in her mouth. When she’d gone headfirst into debt to buy the coffee shop, she’d bought a virtual landmark. Everyone in Lexington knew there was a coffee shop at 145 Hunt Street. Parking was decent, the atmosphere was good. She’d never be able to build this kind of traffic at a new location—not enough to pay back her loans. “S-sure, Marsh, whatever I can do.”

      “Great. Call me after closing tonight. Gotta run.”

      Lana returned the receiver gingerly, telling herself not to panic. Yet.

      “Bad news?” Alex asked.

      “Potentially. There’s a council meeting Friday night to introduce a rezoning plan for the blocks between here and Hyde. The local shop owners want me to be their mouthpiece.”

      “Good choice, since some of the council members already know who you are.”

      “Yeah, from protest rallies.” She dropped into the chair. “I so do not need this right now. Besides, without the landlord’s support, I don’t believe it’ll do much good.”

      “So get the landlord’s support.”

      “We’ve tried, but the property is in the hands of so many holding companies, we haven’t even been able to reach a real live person.”

      “I can have Daddy talk to his friend on the council and at least make them aware of the way the merchants have been ignored.”

      Her friend had offered help many times before—usually financial—but this was the first time Lana was desperate enough to take advantage of the clout the Tremont name commanded in the city. She touched Alex’s hand and nodded. “Thanks. I know all of the shop owners will be grateful.”

      “Consider it done. If there’s going to be a fight, at least it’ll be a fair fight.”

      Lana puffed out her cheeks in a weary sigh. “So much for sleeping the rest of the week.”

      “Don’t worry—you’ll knock ’em dead.” Alex stood and lifted her mug, but her obviously