The Swinging R Ranch. Debbi Rawlins
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.”
“Um…good night.” She was relieved that her voice didn’t squeak.
She locked the door behind him and then sagged against it, lifting her fingertips to her tingling cheek.
Friends, she reminded herself again. That was all either of them wanted to be. Right?
“How long have you been seeing her? Are you serious about her?”
Still groggy from being awakened early by his sister’s telephone call, Scott ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against his pillows, his bedsheets pooled around his waist. “You woke me up this early on a weekend morning just to grill me about Lydia?”
“C’mon, Scott. It’s almost nine o’clock. Just how late do you want to sleep?”
Thinking of all the nights he’d gotten by lately with little more than a couple hours rest, he sighed. “It isn’t often I get a chance to sleep in.”
“Then I’m sorry I woke you. So, um, is anyone in bed with you?”
“Damn it, Heather, what kind of question is that?”
“A nosy one,” she admitted.
“No kidding. And—not that it’s any of your business—no, there’s no one in the bed with me.”
“Good.”
Something in her firm response made him frown. Remembering that Lydia had decided Heather didn’t like her, Scott asked, “Why are you calling to ask so many questions about Lydia? Didn’t you like her?”
“I suppose she was nice enough.”
“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded in exasperation with her decidedly tepid endorsement.
“Nothing’s wrong with her. I repeat, she seemed nice. Just—”
“Just what?”
“I’m not sure she’s right for you. Nothing personal against her, of course, but the two of you just seem ill-matched. I have a feel for that sort of thing, you know. Some of my friends say I’m almost psychic when it comes to relationship stuff. I know how stubborn you are when it comes to fix-ups, but there’s this really great woman I think you should meet. She’s funny and sweet and—”
“I don’t get it,” Scott broke in impatiently. “What’s wrong with Lydia? I would have thought she’d be exactly the type of woman you would pick for me.”
“Well…no, not really.”
“Why not?”
“You want me to spell it out? To be honest, she reminded me of Paula. I thought she was a bit too cool. Restrained. Our friends know how to cut loose and have fun, and I’m not sure Lydia does. I’ve always wanted you to find someone who adores you and isn’t too reserved to show it.”
Scott thought Heather was being ridiculous. Apparently, she wanted him to be with a woman who was bubbly, demonstrative and worshiped the ground he walked on. His sister didn’t want him to find a mate; she wanted him to get an Irish setter. Which would be fine with him, he reminded himself. He wasn’t looking for a mate anyway. Hell, he didn’t even have time to commit to a pet for now.
“So what do you say, Scott?”
“About