Surprise Partners
She wouldn’t go quite that far, but she would much rather spend the evening with Scott, a man she already knew and liked, than with Larissa’s fix-up, whoever he was.
Lydia sat for a while on the side of the bed after hanging up the phone, thinking about what she’d just done. It seemed that she had a date, of sorts, with Scott Pearson. She couldn’t say the possibility had never occurred to her during the past few months, but she hadn’t really expected it to happen.
It wasn’t that she didn’t find Scott attractive. What woman wouldn’t? He was good-looking, charming, personable, impeccably mannered. He could have stepped straight out of the pages of the romance novels she enjoyed reading for relaxation after long, hard days in the lab and classroom—and she had pictured him more than once lately as the hero of those stories, with herself as the heroine. But she had considered that a harmless fantasy with little chance of becoming reality since he’d given her no reason to believe he was interested in anything more than her passing knowledge of forensic DNA.
He’d flirted some, but not seriously, making her think it was more habit than intent on his part. She’d even felt comfortable flirting back a little although she’d never been very good at that particular art. Yet this was the first time he had asked her for a real date, even as casually worded as this invitation had been.
Though she wasn’t the type to weave romantic fantasies for herself, she knew she’d better be very careful when it came to Scott Pearson. She hadn’t had enough experience with men like him. She simply didn’t have time, not even for a man as intriguing as Scott Pearson.
“So who is this guy? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”
Lydia examined a long silver dress on a hanger, then shook her head and moved to the next selection in the boutique she and her sister were visiting. “I told you, Larissa. His name is Scott Pearson and he’s an attorney who lives in my apartment building. I haven’t known him very long, so there really hasn’t been anything to mention.”
“An attorney?” Larissa uttered the word with a curled lip.
“I know you don’t care for the profession, but Scott’s a very nice man. He seems quite reputable.”
“How old is he?”
A bit surprised by the question, Lydia looked away from the dress racks to glance at her sister. “I don’t know. I haven’t asked him. About my age, I guess. Why?”
“I just want to know more about him. You’re being very mysterious.”
“You’ll meet him for yourself Saturday evening. I’m really not trying to be mysterious. I just don’t know what else to tell you about him.”
“Well, at least tell me if he’s good-looking.”
Lydia pictured Scott very clearly—his dark auburn hair, glittering green eyes, the long, disarming slash of dimple in his left cheek when he gave her one of his slow, sexy smiles. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice casual. “He’s very nice-looking.”
Larissa apparently read more into Lydia’s tone than she had intended. “Really?” Her expression turned speculative.
“I just need something appropriate to wear for the occasion,” Lydia said repressively. “I’m not trying to impress Scott particularly.”
Larissa held up a scrap of iridescent red fabric that would cover very little more than the law required. “Why don’t you try this on?”
“You must be joking.”
“You could at least try it on. I bet it would look fabulous on you.”
“I don’t think so.” Lydia held up a classically tailored black sheath. “This one’s nice.”
Larissa curled her lip. “Bo-o-oring.”
Sighing, Lydia shook her head. “What made me think I should accompany you on a shopping trip? We never agree on clothing.”
As an example, she compared the outfits they had chosen for this shopping excursion. Lydia wore a navy blazer with a white shirt and khaki slacks. Larissa’s clothes were trendy, eccentric, brilliantly colorful, clashing cheerfully with her below-shoulder-length cascade of henna-red curls. Lydia knew her sister would don the revealing red gown in a heartbeat—and would look spectacular in it. She would carry it off with confidence and aplomb—whereas Lydia would be painfully self-conscious in it, trying her best to hide behind the nearest potted plant.
“What about this?” Larissa motioned toward a beaded column dress of rich, deep blue. “It’s conservative, but not as dull as the black one.”
Tucking a sweep of hair behind her ears, Lydia studied the gown in question. “That one’s rather nice.”
“Try it on,” Larissa urged. “Trust me. Anything’s better than that other one.”
Lydia sighed and returned the black sheath—which really wasn’t all that bad, she thought—to the rack. “All right. I’ll try it.”
The salesclerk who’d been hovering discreetly nearby smiled and motioned toward the back of the store. “The dressing rooms are right this way.”
Ten minutes later, Lydia said through the louvered dressing-room door, “No, I don’t think this will do.”
“Let me see,” her sister demanded from the other side.
“It’s too…tight,” Lydia fretted, frowning at the mirror. “And the slit in the skirt is too high. Maybe I should try the black one.”
“Not until I see that one. Open the door, Lyddie.”
Still frowning, Lydia opened the door. “See? It just doesn’t—”
“It’s perfect,” Larissa breathed, clapping her hands in front of her.
“It’s lovely, ma’am,” the salesclerk agreed fervently. “It fits you beautifully.”
Lydia turned back to the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too tight?”
“Lydia, you have a great figure. Stop hiding it. It’s not as if you’re actually showing any skin, except for a little leg when you walk.”
“It’s a fabric that clings a little,” the clerk explained. “But it’s a wonderful style for you.”
Lydia wavered in indecision. “You really think so?”
Larissa and the salesclerk agreed in unison. “That lawyer’s going to see you in this dress and swallow his briefcase,” Larissa added.
Reluctantly taken with that improbable image, Lydia reminded herself that she wasn’t particularly trying to make herself attractive for Scott. But she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit for the event. It wasn’t as if she had an opportunity to be glamorous very often. “I’ll take it,” she said before she could change her mind.
Her sister and the salesclerk both smiled in satisfaction.
Chapter Two
Scott glanced at his watch as he approached Lydia’s door. He was pleased to note that he was right on time. He suspected that she was a woman who would appreciate punctuality.
Remembering the way Heather had grilled him when he’d told her he was bringing a date for the evening, he smiled. She’d been openly skeptical that he had chosen someone of whom she would approve. “Promise me you aren’t bringing a stripper or a bimbo just to embarrass me,” she had demanded.
“Would I do that?” he had asked in exasperation. And then had quickly added, “Don’t answer.”
He defied her to find anything to criticize about Lydia McKinley. A scientist, a teacher, a doctoral candidate. A capable, intelligent, quietly attractive woman anyone would be proud to call a friend. Heather would probably decide they were perfect for each other and embarrass them both with a bunch of subtle-as-a-sledgehammer hints. But at least she would get off his back about the women she wanted to introduce him to. Maybe he could stop worrying for a while about when she would blindside him with the next fix-up.
Prepared for a pleasant and undemanding evening, he smiled as Lydia’s door opened. His smile froze when he saw her.
She looked…stunning. From head to toe. Her up-swept brown hair bared the graceful sweep of her neck. A couple of soft tendrils lay against her temples, adding a touch of feminine romanticism to the style. She wore a bit more makeup than usual, highlighting her intriguingly slanted blue eyes and high cheekbones. Her shiny lip gloss made him realize for the first time just how full and sensual her lower lip was.
And the dress…
The way the midnight-blue garment molded to her body made it very difficult for Scott to keep his attention on her face. It wasn’t an overtly sexy dress, but the effect was still powerful. Deceptively conservative, the dress clung to her curves and revealed only glimpses of skin through long, nearly sheer sleeves and a slit at one side of the skirt.
He’d always thought that Lydia McKinley had great legs. Now he realized they were spectacular. Her strappy heels made them look even longer and shapelier than he’d noted before.
He cleared his throat. “You look…lovely,” he said, aware of what an understatement that was.
“Thank you.” It was obvious from the flush of color on her cheeks that Lydia wasn’t completely comfortable with the situation. “You look very nice, too.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’d rather have on jeans and a T-shirt than evening clothes,” he confessed.
A little of the tension eased from her face. “And I’d be much more comfortable in my work clothes,” she agreed.
He chuckled. “So we’ll be uncomfortable together. But we’ll look good.” He remembered only then that he’d brought something for her. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, extending the hand that held a bouquet of deep coral roses. He’d chosen the nontraditional color because he decided the gesture would seem less sentimental than the usual red roses, but he’d thought the occasion merited some acknowledgment. No matter how disdainfully she’d spoken of Valentine’s Day, he knew most women liked it when men acknowledged the date in some way.
Her eyes widened as she accepted the roses from him. “You certainly didn’t have to do this—but they’re beautiful.” As if she couldn’t resist, she buried her nose in them, inhaling deeply. “I love the scent of roses,” she murmured.
For some reason, he found himself forced to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Maybe you’d like to put them in water before we go?”
“Yes. Of course. Come in. I’ll be right back.”
He needed a little distance from her for a few moments, he found himself thinking as he entered her apartment for the first time. He’d become a bit too aware of how gracefully she moved in her clingy gown. How pretty she looked with her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining and her mouth so soft and shiny…
All in all, it was a good thing they had made it clear from the beginning that they were only interested in being friends.
To distract himself from thoughts of how good she looked, he studied her living room, discreetly looking for more clues about what Lydia McKinley was really like. Her furnishings seemed to have been chosen for practicality—solid colors, sturdy fabrics, classic styles. She seemed to have a fondness for brightly patterned tapestry pillows, which brightened the room considerably, as did the boldly original paintings gracing her walls. Her sister’s? he wondered, remembering that she’d mentioned Larissa was an artist. If so, Larissa was very good.
Lydia came back in carrying a glass vase in which she had hastily arranged the coral roses. She set it on the coffee table, stepping back to admire the effect for a moment. “They really are lovely, Scott. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Would you like a drink or something before we go?”
He shook his head, thinking that if he settled comfortably with her here, he wouldn’t want to leave at all. He would much rather spend the evening getting to know pretty Lydia McKinley than mingling with the crowd that would surely be at the charity dance. Especially since they’d made it clear that they could be friends without a lot of complications, he reminded himself. “We’d better be going.”
She sighed lightly and reached for her purse. “I suppose you’re right. The sooner we leave, the sooner this will be over.”
Hardly the most flattering statement he could have heard at the beginning of a date, Scott thought with a slight wince.
Scott hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he had some connections in the medical community, Lydia realized not long after they arrived at the charity event. They could hardly take more than a few steps across the crowded ballroom without being hailed by someone he knew.
Unfailingly courteous, Scott made a point of introducing her to everyone as his friend, Lydia McKinley. He seemed pleased to have her with him, and she found herself rather proud to be at his side. She couldn’t help flashing back momentarily to high school.
Scott, she thought, would have belonged to the “cool” crowd at her school. Popular, good-looking, athletic, casually charming. She, on the other hand, had been one of the “brainy” set. Serious, focused, studious, shy. She hadn’t dated much, and she’d gone to the senior prom with a boy from her group who was as socially challenged as she was. It hadn’t been a fun evening.
High school was far behind her, of course, but it seemed that some old images lingered in the back of the mind for a lifetime. She’d been careful since then to spend time with people who were more like herself. Much less stressful in the long run, she had decided.
“Oh, boy,” Scott suddenly murmured into her ear. “Here we go.”
Confused, she glanced up at him. “What do you—”
“Scott! There you are,” someone proclaimed before Lydia could complete the question.
It didn’t take a great deal of perceptiveness for Lydia to figure out that this woman was probably Scott’s twin sister, Heather. The family resemblance was strong—same bright green eyes, dark auburn hair and single dimple. “Yes, here I am, Heather,” Scott said, undeniable affection softening the wry greeting.
Towing a pleasant-faced man behind her, Heather bustled up to them already talking. “Isn’t this great? The turnout is wonderful, don’t you think? Have you had a chance to look at the silent auction items yet? There are some fabulous donations. Steve and I have placed bids on several things, including a really spectacular painting that would look perfect in our living room. You must be Lydia.”
Since the last was added without a pause for breath, it took Lydia a moment to catch up. More accustomed to his sister’s rhythm, Scott answered for her. “Yes, this is Lydia McKinley. Lydia, I’d like you to meet my sister, Heather, and her fiancé, Dr. Steve Carter,” he added, nodding toward the nice-looking man who’d trailed in Heather’s wake.
“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Lydia said, shaking their hands.
“Scott said you’re a science professor?” Heather probed, studying her with an intensity that made Lydia feel like a specimen in one of her own labs.
“An associate professor in the microbiology department,” Lydia confirmed.
“Lydia’s a doctoral candidate in microbiology,” Scott added. “She’ll have her Ph.D. this spring.”
Wanting to shift the conversation away from herself, Lydia spoke to Heather, wishing even as she did so that she was better at making small talk with new acquaintances. “Scott said you work in advertising?”
“Yes. I’m an account executive for O’Brien, Simmons and Stern. Have you and Scott known each other long?” Heather was obviously more interested in finding out about her brother’s companion than talking about herself for the moment.
Scott sighed heavily before Lydia could answer. “Let’s go look at the auction offerings, Lydia. That should be more fun than standing here being cross-examined by my nosy sister.” Again, there was more affection than irritation in his voice.
Heather frowned at him. “I wasn’t being rude. I was just curious.”
“Maybe we should go dance, Heather,” her fiancé suggested quickly.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you two later,” Heather called over her shoulder as he pulled her away. “I’d love to have a chance to sit down and get to know you better, Lydia, when we…”
Steve pulled her into the crowd still talking.
Scott chuckled. “I’m not sure if that was a promise or a warning.”
“She seemed very pleasant,” Lydia assured him, though she had a funny sense that Heather hadn’t actually approved of her at first impression.
Scott slid an arm casually around her shoulders. “She’s a nut. I love her, but I’ve got to be honest—she’ll grill you to distraction if you let her. My sister is unabashedly nosy.”
A bit flustered by the feel of his arm around her, Lydia started to reply, but then paused when she saw Larissa and Charlie making their way toward her. Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at Scott. “You think your sister is scary? Wait until you meet mine,” she murmured, then turned with a forced smile. “Hello, Larissa.”
Her dyed-red hair piled in an artfully messy cascade on top of her head, Larissa wore the skimpy crimson dress she had tried to talk Lydia into buying. It fit as revealingly as Lydia had imagined, barely covering Larissa’s full breasts, dipping in to show off her small waist, then fitting like a second skin against her slender hips and thighs. The skirt was cut away on the left side to show her leg from hip to ankle. On Larissa, the daring gown looked arty and trendy and chic. On someone else it might have just looked tacky, Lydia mused with a ripple of admiration for her sister’s undeniable sense of style.
She would never have had the nerve to wear it in public herself.
Leaning forward to accept her sister’s smacking air kiss, Lydia murmured, “You look fabulous.”
“Thanks. So do you. Have you seen my paintings yet?”
“No, we just arrived. We haven’t had a chance to examine everything yet.” Lydia smiled at the thin, ponytailed man in a long, straight evening jacket who stood just behind Larissa. “Hello, Charlie.”
Her sister’s latest conquest smiled broadly, stretching the triangular “soul patch” of sandy whiskers sprouting beneath his lower lip, the only hair he wore on his angular face. “Hey, Prof. How’s it going?”
“Fine, thank you.” She half turned toward Scott. “Larissa and Charlie, this is my friend, Scott Pearson.”
Scott flashed Larissa one of his winning smiles. “I see beauty runs in the McKinley family.”
“Oh, that is so corny,” Larissa groaned. Then smiled and reached up to pat his dimpled cheek with one scarlet-nailed hand. “Tell me more.”
Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Lydia told me a couple of your paintings are on exhibit here tonight for the charity auction.”
“Yes. You’ll have to tell me what you think of them. But only if what you think is positive. I don’t take criticism well.”
Scott laughed. “I’ll be sure and say only nice things, then. But from the paintings I’ve seen in Lydia’s apartment, I’m sure I’ll like them. You’re very talented.”
“So you’ve been in Lydia’s apartment?” Larissa murmured, looking speculatively from him to her sister.
Lydia frowned at her. “Larissa…”
Larissa only laughed. “C’mon, Charlie, let’s go eavesdrop on the people standing around my paintings. And you can beat them up for me if they say anything unpleasant.”
“You keep forgetting I’m a pacifist,” Charlie complained, then added with a grin, “not to mention a coward.”
“You weren’t exaggerating, were you?” Scott murmured when Larissa and Charlie moved away.
“About Larissa? No.”
“The two of you really are very different.”
“Night and day,” Lydia agreed. “But we’ve always gotten along well enough despite those differences.”
Scott nodded. “Heather and I do, too, considering. But when we disagree, we do so passionately.”
Amused by the wording, she laughed softly. “Larissa does everything passionately.”
“I’d like to see her paintings.”
“I’m sure we can find them—somewhere,” she added, looking around the crowded ballroom lined with auction offerings on the outer edges.
He offered his arm. “Let’s snag some champagne and check everything out, shall we?”
The first thing Lydia did when she walked into her apartment much later that evening was kick off her shoes. She wiggled her toes in the plush carpet and gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s much better.”
From behind her, Scott gave a low laugh as he carried in a rather large cardboard box. “I take it your feet were hurting?”
“You wobble around in those tight, stiff, spike-heeled torture devices for six hours and see how your feet feel.”
“I’ll pass, thanks. A bow tie and cummerbund are bad enough. Where do you want your lamp?”
Reminded of the delicately pretty, Tiffany-style lamp she had purchased at the silent auction, she turned quickly. “Sorry. I was so anxious to get out of those shoes, I almost forgot about the lamp. Just set it on the table. I’ll find a place for it later.”
He deposited the heavy box carefully on the coffee table. “It’s a nice lamp. But heavy.”
“I thought it was lovely. And the money went to a good cause. As did the money you spent for your purchase.”
He patted his pocket in satisfaction. “Play-off tickets? Definitely a good cause for my money.”
“I meant the hospital wing is a good cause.”
Chuckling at her stern tone, he nodded. “That, too. Did you have a good time this evening?”
“Yes, very nice.” Surprisingly enough, she had. Scott had been a charming escort. He’d stayed close to her side, had seemed interested in her conversation, had made sure she didn’t feel left out when he’d talked to his friends. And he had danced with her, matching his steps to hers so well that her initial awkwardness had quickly eased though her physical awareness of him had been a bit more difficult to ignore.
All in all, it had been the most successful date she’d had in…well, ever.
Good thing they’d made it clear from the beginning that it wasn’t going to lead anywhere, she thought, trying not to feel wistful. She wouldn’t want to start expecting too much from this man who didn’t want a woman to interfere with his climb to a partnership. And she certainly didn’t want any man to get in the way of her career, she reminded herself. She had learned that lesson very well from a lifetime of her embittered, frustrated mother’s warnings.
She pushed a wispy strand of hair away from her temple and hesitated, wondering what to do now. “Um…would you like a cup of coffee or something?”
He hesitated a moment, then shook his head with a slight smile. “No, thanks. I’d better go. It’s getting late.”
Lydia walked him to the door. “Thank you for bringing my lamp up for me.”
“Thank you for going with me this evening. I had a very nice time—and I didn’t have to worry about Heather trying to match me up with every available woman there tonight.”
The mention of his sister made Lydia frown a bit. Her few encounters with Heather during the party hadn’t gone any better than the first. “I’m not sure your sister liked me very much.”
Scott’s eyebrows rose sharply in surprise. “What makes you think that?”
“Just an impression I got,” she answered, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “Don’t misunderstand me. She was perfectly nice. I just don’t think she particularly approved of me as your date.”
He shook his head, looking vaguely disturbed by her comments. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”
Lydia was not at all convinced, but it really didn’t matter since this would likely be their only date. “Probably my imagination. I’m glad you talked me into attending the event tonight, Scott. It’s the nicest Valentine’s Day I’ve spent in a long time.”
Ever, really, she thought, though she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea by gushing too much. This had been a date of convenience, to keep their sisters at bay. There’d been nothing more to it than that.
“I had a great time, too,” he assured her. He put his hand on the doorknob. “We’ll have to get together soon to talk about DNA again. I still have a few questions about restriction fragment length polymorphism.”
“It’s much easier to just call it RFLP,” she said with a smile. “And I’d be happy to answer your questions any time we’re both free.”
“I’ll give you a call.” He turned the knob, then leaned over to brush his lips against her cheek in an apparently impulsive gesture. “Good night, Lydia.”