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  After a pause and a hang-up beep, another voice came through the speaker. “Lyddie?”

  Lydia groaned as she bent to pull on thick, fuzzy socks. This voice required no identification.

  “You’re still not home?” Larissa’s tone was heavy with disapproval. “It’s after six. Honestly, sis, you have to stop working all the time. The reason I’m calling is that there’s going to be a great Valentine’s Day party next weekend. It’s a dance and silent auction, to raise money for the new neonatal wing at Metro General. I’ve donated a couple of my paintings, so of course I have to be there. And I would love it if you were there, too. I know this great guy, Gary—he’s a new friend of Charlie’s. He’s really sweet. I think you’d like him. Give me a call if you’re interested, okay? Better yet, let’s just assume you are interested. I’ll set everything up and call you back in a little while, okay? It’ll be great.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Lydia snapped at the machine as if her sister could hear. “How many times must I tell you I’m not interested in—” The telephone rang before she could finish the exasperated question. Already certain whom she’d hear on the other end, she snatched up the receiver, hunger and weariness fraying her composure. “Larissa, do not set me up for a blind date, do you understand? I won’t go.”

  “I don’t blame you,” a man’s voice said in response. “That’s exactly what I said to my sister.”

  “Scott?” she said after a momentary hesitation in which she placed the voice.

  “Yes. I hope you aren’t disappointed that it isn’t your sister.”

  “Not at all. I’m not very happy with my sister just now.”

  “Which brings me to the reason I called you—”

  “My sister?”

  “No. Mine.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lydia said, sinking to sit on the side of her bed.

  “I just had another frustrating conversation with Heather. I swear this Valentine’s Day fever is warping her mind. She’s determined to set me up with a date for a hospital fund-raiser she and her fiancé are attending next weekend.”

  “Is it a dance and silent auction for the new neonatal wing, by any chance?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Are you going?”

  “A couple of my sister’s paintings are being auctioned. She wants me to be there—and she just happens to know a great guy to escort me,” she added with a scowl.

  “From what you said when you answered the phone, I assume you’re planning to decline?”

  Forgetting for the moment that he couldn’t see her, she nodded. “I have no interest in going to a party with a man my sister has chosen for me.”

  “And I’m not interested in spending an evening with one of Heather’s overeager friends.”

  She thought that problem was easy enough to solve. “So tell her no.”

  “I have. She’s determined. She knows I’m sort of committed to attending—I have a lot of friends in the medical community. She’s threatened to tell every unattached woman there that I’m available—and looking for a mate.”

  Lydia smiled ruefully. “She really is terrifying, isn’t she?”

  “She’s impossible.”

  “So why don’t you take a date of your own choice to the event?” she asked simply.

  “That’s exactly what I have in mind. How would you like to go to the charity thing with me, Lydia?”

  She blinked, certain she must have misunderstood him. “I’m sorry, but did you just ask me to go with you?”

  “Yes. It’s the perfect solution. We’re friends who aren’t interested in anything more at the moment. Going together will be pleasant, uncomplicated—and it will get our sisters off our backs.”

  It didn’t sound at all like the perfect solution to her. She and Scott were hardly friends—more like friendly acquaintances. They didn’t actually know each other very well. “I don’t know, Scott….”

  “Think about it. Is Larissa going to give up without a fight?”

  Her mouth twisted. “I’m not actually expecting a fight. But she will argue.”

  “And when she doesn’t get her way, will she sigh and pout and make you feel guilty for not appreciating her sincere concern for you?”

  Lydia couldn’t help laughing a little at his uncannily accurate prediction. “Something like that.”

  “So wouldn’t it be easier to go with me than to argue with her about the blind date she wants to arrange for you?”

  “I wasn’t planning to go at all.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m really not very good at parties, Scott. Like most scientists, I’m more comfortable with a laboratory beaker than a champagne glass in my hand.”

  “And I’d rather be addressing a jury than making small talk with strangers. But since I have to go anyway, I would enjoy spending the evening with you.”

  It wasn’t the most flattering invitation she had ever received—but it was among the most honest. Lydia found that vaguely refreshing. “I’m not a very good dancer,” she warned him.

  “We’ll try not to injure each other.”

  “And you’ll cover for me if I get all awkward and tongue-tied in front of your friends?”

  “Gladly—if you’ll protect me from your scary sister.”

  She laughed again. “She isn’t really scary. Just…obstinate.”

  “So you’ll go?”

  She imagined the satisfaction she would feel upon telling Larissa that she already had an escort for the event. The image gave her the nerve to blurt out, “Yes. I believe I will.”

  “Thanks, Lydia. For the first time, I can actually look forward to this thing.”

  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 flu
shed 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.