“I want you, Lydia.”

Knowing Scott felt that way had been disconcerting enough; hearing him actually say the words staggered Lydia. “Scott—”

“You need time,” he said.

She needed time. She needed distance. She needed perspective. God help her, she needed him.

Lydia nodded. “I have to think about this,” she whispered. “Before it goes any further—I have to think.”

“I know. You aren’t comfortable acting on impulse. You have to decide first if the benefits are worth the risks. I can wait until you’ve come up with the answer, but I hope you’ll decide to give it a try,” Scott said.

It shook her even more that he seemed to understand her so well. And that he seemed to be making no effort to change what he knew about her. She was more accustomed to impatience and frustration from men who had wanted her before. Which made Scott all the more difficult to resist….

Dear Reader,

With spring in the air, there’s no better way to herald the season and continue to celebrate Silhouette’s 20th Anniversary year than with an exhilarating month of romance from Special Edition!

Kicking off a great lineup is Beginning with Baby, a heartwarming THAT’S MY BABY! story by rising star Christie Ridgway. Longtime Special Edition favorite Susan Mallery turns up the heat in The Sheik’s Kidnapped Bride, the first book in her new DESERT ROGUES series. And popular author Laurie Paige wraps up the SO MANY BABIES miniseries with Make Way for Babies!, a poignant reunion romance in which a set of newborn twins unwittingly plays Cupid!

Beloved author Gina Wilkins weaves a sensuous modern love story about two career-minded people who are unexpectedly swept away by desire in Surprise Partners. In Her Wildest Wedding Dreams from veteran author Celeste Hamilton, a sheltered woman finds the passion of a lifetime in a rugged rancher’s arms. And finally, Carol Finch brings every woman’s fantasy to life with an irresistible millionaire hero in her compelling novel Soul Mates.

It’s a gripping month of reading in Special Edition. Enjoy!

All the best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Surprise Partners
Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Courtney, my own microbiologist. Thanks for the help. And for Kerry and David, who help out in their own ways.

Books by Gina Wilkins

Silhouette Special Edition

The Father Next Door #1082

* It Could Happen To You #1119

Valentine Baby #1153

† Her Very Own Family #1243

† That First Special Kiss #1269

Surprise Partners #1318

Previously published as Gina Ferris

Silhouette Special Edition

Healing Sympathy #496

Lady Beware #549

In from the Rain #677

Prodigal Father #711

§ Full of Grace #793

§ Hardworking Man #806

§ Fair and Wise #819

§ Far To Go #862

§ Loving and Giving #879

Babies on Board #913

Previously published as Gina Ferris Wilkins

Silhouette Special Edition

‡ A Man for Mom #955

‡ A Match for Celia #967

‡ A Home for Adam #980

‡ Cody’s Fiancée #1006

Silhouette Books

Mother’s Day Collection 1995

Three Mothers and a Cradle

“Beginnings”

GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than fifty books for Harlequin and Silhouette Books. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms. Wilkins sold her first book to Harlequin in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA Today bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times Magazine.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

“And so, by using PCR and RFLP DNA methodology, the probability of paternity can be established to greater than 99.9 percent. It’s virtually fail proof.”

Realizing that Lydia McKinley had paused expectantly after an almost fifteen-minute mini lecture, Scott Pearson nodded somberly, hoping he looked as if he’d been paying close attention to her words. “Fascinating.”

She set her coffee cup on the restaurant table and wrinkled her nose, her pretty oval face softening with the expression. “I gave you too much information, didn’t I? I’m afraid I have a tendency to answer simple questions in far greater detail than necessary. My sister claims to be afraid to even ask passing questions about my work.”

Scott shook his head. “Actually, I’ve found your discussions of DNA testing both valuable and very interesting. You have a real knack for making a complex subject relatively easy to understand. I bet you’re popular with your students.”

“Not all of them. There are those who consider me a real terror.”

“Probably the ones who want a passing grade for very little effort.”

She laughed softly. “Exactly. How did you ever guess?”

He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “You don’t strike me as the type to let anyone slide by without demonstrating knowledge of the material.”

“‘Hardnose McKinley.’” She sighed in rueful resignation. “I’ve heard it muttered in the hallways, along with a few variations.”

“I doubt you let a few whiners bother you that much. You probably concentrate more on the students who really want to learn.”

Her rare, full smile brightened her dark blue eyes and reminded Scott that Professor Lydia McKinley was as attractive as she was brilliant—a fact he’d noticed with increasing regularity during the ten months or so he’d known her. They’d met in the parking lot of the apartment complex in which they were neighbors. Lydia had spilled a box of student essays, and Scott had helped her gather them before a threatening rainstorm could ruin them. Upon learning that Lydia was a microbiologist who taught university classes that included discussions of forensic DNA, Scott, an ambitious young attorney in a prestigious Dallas law firm, had asked if she would answer some of his questions about DNA. She had graciously agreed.

Since that meeting, they had gotten together three or four times for impromptu DNA lessons whenever Scott called her with questions. He always insisted on treating her to dinner during their talks since she refused any other form of compensation for her time and expertise. Their relationship was friendly, comfortable and rather impersonal. Their conversations tended to be more scientific than social. The few times Scott had wandered into personal territory, Lydia had quickly guided him back to business.

Usually quite confident around women, Scott sometimes found himself feeling a bit awkward with Lydia. Having spent a lot of time with competent, intelligent women, he wasn’t intimidated by her exactly, but he sometimes found himself wondering what she was thinking. She was very good at hiding her feelings behind a pleasantly serene expression.

He really knew very little about her, he mused, studying her across the table as a server set their desserts in front of them. He’d always considered himself pretty good at drawing people out, but Lydia was a definite challenge. He liked her, but he simply didn’t know what made her tick. Yet.

She picked up her dessert fork and glanced at him, catching his eye. “Is something wrong, Scott? You’ve been a bit distracted this evening.”

Smiling apologetically, Scott shook his head. “Sorry. I’m afraid it’s been a long day. You mentioned that you have a sister?”

“Yes. Larissa.”

“Is she older or younger than you?”

“Two years older.” Lydia wrinkled her nose again in a manner that Scott found appealing. “And she never lets me forget it. She’s been bossing me around all my life.”

He grinned. “Then you should be able to understand why a half-hour telephone conversation with my sister was all I needed to top off an already stressful day. She’s decided my life needs changing and she’s the only one qualified to arrange it.”

“Oh, that does sound familiar,” Lydia agreed with a soft groan. “Larissa’s gotten so pushy lately that I’ve been ducking her calls—which I hate doing because I’m really extremely fond of her.”

“Same here. I’m crazy about Heather, but she’s fully earned her nickname of Heather the Hun.”

Lydia laughed softly at the nickname. “How much older is she?”

“Four minutes,” Scott answered glumly.

Her eyebrows rose. “Twins?”

He nodded.

“Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought a twin would consider herself an older sibling, even with a four-minute birth advantage.”

“‘Advantage’ is the right word. Although with Heather’s personality, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if I’d been the firstborn. She’d still want to tell me what to do.”

Lydia swallowed a bite of cheesecake and reached for her coffee cup. “Somehow I don’t see you as the type to let your sister give you orders.”

“I don’t,” he concurred. “But sometimes I get kind of tired of the battle.”

Again, Lydia’s sigh sounded empathetic. “It does get tiresome, doesn’t it?”

Dipping into his rich chocolate dessert, he nodded, pleased to find someone who understood what he’d been going through lately. “What sort of things does your sister nag you about?”

“Larissa and I are very different. She’s artistic and creative and flamboyant. Very social. She would like for me to be more like her, I think.”

Scott found it hard to imagine quiet, reserved Lydia McKinley having a flamboyant sister. It made him wonder about the rest of her family, if she had any—something else they had never discussed in their business-only conversations. Maybe talking about his own sister would draw her out more about her life.

“Heather is a dynamo,” he began. “She sets her sights on something and doesn’t give up until she accomplishes whatever she wants to do. It’s made her very successful in her advertising career, but sometimes she doesn’t know when to stop. My friend Cameron calls her harmlessly terrifying.”

“‘Harmlessly terrifying.’” Lydia repeated the phrase thoughtfully. “That describes my sister perfectly.”

“Heather’s getting married in June and she’s deliriously happy about it. She’s marrying a doctor she met last year—Steve Carter, a nice guy who seems crazy about her in return. Now she’s decided that I should be as happy as she is.”

“She’s trying to fix you up with someone?” Lydia put down her fork and lifted her hands to her temples. “That’s exactly what Larissa’s been up to lately! Every time I hear from her she has someone new she wants me to meet.”

“So does Heather. I think she’s paraded every unattached woman she’s ever met in front of me during the past few months. And she can’t stand the women I’ve dated. I can’t seem to convince her that I’m not ready to get seriously involved with anyone right now. I’m working toward a partnership in the law firm, and that means long hours at the office. It doesn’t leave me time to do justice to a relationship. I’ve tried to tell her I have plenty of time to start a family once I’ve got my career on track, but she thinks just because she’s ready to settle down, I should be, too. She’s really carrying the twin thing a bit too far.”

“My sister’s doing the same thing to me. Larissa set up housekeeping a few months ago with a really great guy she says is her ‘soul mate.’ Now she’s looking for mine. I’m half-afraid to even meet her for lunch lately. Two of her invitations have turned out to be ambush blind dates, and the men she’s chosen for me have been—well, not what I would have chosen.”

“You, too?” Scott rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Heather asked me to fix her clogged sink a couple of weeks ago. She ‘just happened’ to have a friend there when I showed up. I barely made it out still single. I’m surprised they didn’t have a minister there to dispense with the formality of courtship.”

Lydia laughed. She had a very pretty laugh, Scott noted absently. She didn’t use it often enough.

“I think it’s all this Valentine’s Day foolishness,” she murmured, glancing expressively around the restaurant at all the hearts-lace-and-cupids decorations. “I’m hoping Larissa will ease up when this sappy, greeting-card event is behind us.”

Struck by the comment, he agreed. “That’s probably what’s making Heather so determined right now. Everywhere you look, all you see is hearts and flowers and stuff, and it’s been that way for weeks. It’s no wonder she thinks everyone else should be as obsessed by romance as she is.”

Lydia nodded in agreement, making her brown, smoothly bobbed hair sway around her chin. She sipped her coffee, apparently deciding she’d made her point about the contagious pervasiveness of the Valentine’s Day fever.

Since the personal conversation had been going so well to that point, fueled by their mutual frustration with their sisters’ matchmaking efforts, Scott risked carrying it further. Now was his chance to get to know more about Lydia—just to satisfy his natural curiosity about her, of course, he assured himself. “So you aren’t interested in hooking up at the moment, either?”

“If by ‘hooking up,’ you mean getting seriously involved with someone, the answer is no, not now. I’m working toward my doctorate degree, which I should receive in May. I’m looking for a full professorship for the fall, and I have résumés at universities in several other states. There are several research projects I want to complete during the next few years to keep my career on target. The last couple of men I dated grew very impatient with my focus on my work, but I’m just not interested in changing anything for now.”

“Sounds a lot like my career agenda. We really do have a lot in common, don’t we?” he asked, reaching out to pat her hand companionably with his.

Looking suddenly flustered, Lydia pulled her hand away and picked up her fork again. “Matchmaking sisters and workaholic tendencies? It’s not exactly a lot.”

That probably was all they had in common, Scott silently conceded. But even those similarities made it easier to consider her a friend, if only on a casual basis.

Apparently deciding they’d shared enough personal information, Lydia turned the conversation back to their usual subject. “Did you have any more questions about the polymerase chain reaction technique?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of several more questions eventually. I just can’t come up with any at the moment.”

“Feel free to ask any time. And I’ll get you a copy of that laboratory contamination article I told you about.”

“I’d appreciate it.” They had met at the restaurant after work, so Scott walked Lydia to her car when they finished. “Thanks again, Lydia. You answered a lot of questions for me tonight. And thank you for listening to me whine about my sister, as well.”

Smiling, she quipped, “For a meal I don’t have to cook myself, I’ll gladly talk about DNA and matchmaking sisters anytime.”

He chuckled and opened her car door for her. “Drive carefully on your way home. I’ll be stopping by my office, so I won’t be following you.”

Clucking her tongue in exaggerated disapproval, Lydia shook a finger at him. “You work too hard. You should listen to your sister and let her introduce you to a nice girl.”

Scott laughed and tapped her chin lightly with his knuckles. “With friends like you…”

Looking rather pleased with herself, Lydia climbed into her car. Scott was smiling when he watched her drive away. Interesting woman, he thought.

He was glad they had become friends.

Two days later, Lydia walked slowly into her apartment, her arms loaded with a huge stack of papers she had to read by the next day. It was already past 8:00 p.m., and she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. Too tired to cook, she had stopped at a drive-through restaurant for a grilled chicken salad and a bread stick; the fast-food bag was balanced precariously on top of her pile of “homework.”

Kicking off her shoes, she deposited her load on the coffee table and decided to change before eating and working. It was going to be a long evening, she thought, moving toward the bedroom. Might as well get comfortable.

The message light blinked on the answering machine connected to her bedroom extension. She pushed the play button, then pulled off her jacket and skirt while the tape rewound.

“Professor McKinley, it’s Connie Redman,” a woman’s voice said from the machine. “I’m calling to remind you of the Women in Science meeting next Tuesday at 7:00 p.m. It should be a really good meeting, so we hope to see you there.”

“I’ll be there, Connie,” Lydia murmured in response to the perky admonition, her own voice muffled by the cotton T-shirt she pulled over her head.

The next message played as she climbed into a pair of comfortably loose drawstring pants. “Lydia, it’s George. I hope you haven’t forgotten that you agreed to fill in for me at the seminar next week. You’ll be speaking from one until three. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Thank you, George,” she said, wrinkling her nose at his vaguely patronizing tone. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

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 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.”

“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 what?”

“My friend Julie. Will you let me introduce you to her? I could invite her to the thing at the ranch next week and—”

“No.”

“You could at least meet her before you reject her. It’s going to be all couples at the ranch—even Cameron said he would probably bring someone. It’ll be casual and comfortable and fun—a perfect time for you to spend an evening getting to know Julie. I can—”

“No, Heather. If I choose to bring someone to Shane’s gathering next weekend, I’ll find my own companion.”

“You can be so stubborn,” Heather grumbled, a pout in her voice.

“And you are being deliberately irritating. I’ve told you I don’t want you to play matchmaker for me, and you haven’t listened. I’m serious this time, Heather. I’m tired of it. I want it to stop.”

“But—”

“No argument,” he said flatly, swinging his legs to the side of the bed. “At first it was sort of funny watching you running around in circles trying to find me a girlfriend. I’m used to your occasional harebrained obsessions, but this one’s gone far enough. It ends now, okay? No more fix-ups. No more ‘accidental’ meetings. No more ambushes. No more begging me to go on blind dates with your friends.”

“I was only—”

“I know you meant well,” he said more gently. “You and Steve are deliriously happy and you want me to share your good fortune. I appreciate it, but I’m perfectly content concentrating on my work right now. You’ve got a wedding to plan—yours, not mine—and a future to anticipate. Focus on that for now and let me worry about my life, will you?”

“If that’s what you want,” she muttered.

“Trust me, it is.”

“All right. Fine. I won’t interfere again.”

The promise was made stiffly, letting him know that she was a bit miffed with him. He could deal with that as long as he could be assured that she would stop trying to marry him off.

“So, did you and Steve have a good time last night?” he asked, keeping his tone light and encouraging.

“We had a wonderful time,” she answered, still rather subdued.

“Did you get the painting you bid on?”

“Yes, we did.” Her usual enthusiasm slowly returning, she added, “It’s really gorgeous. It was painted by an artist who uses only her first name—Larissa. I had a chance to speak with her very briefly during the event and she’s really interesting. She’s—”

“Lydia’s sister,” Scott inserted. “Larissa McKinley.”

There was a brief pause, and then Heather said bluntly, “No way.”

“It’s true. We spent some time with Larissa and her companion, Charlie.”

“Larissa and Lydia are sisters? Biological sisters?”

“As far as I know. Lydia acknowledges that they are very different, but they seem to be close for the most part.”

“I never would have guessed. They really are so very different….”

Scott had the impression that Heather was mentally comparing the sisters and finding Lydia lacking. For some reason, that annoyed him. Heather hadn’t really given Lydia much of a chance; they’d had the occasion to speak only two or three times during the busy evening. He was sure Heather would like Lydia if she got to know her better.

It only bothered him so badly because it seemed unfair to Lydia for Heather to form such an erroneous snap judgment, he told himself.

He changed the subject before it could get stiff and awkward again, but he continued to be plagued by Heather’s attitude about Lydia.

Chapter Three

“Okay, your lawyer was gorgeous,” Larissa acknowledged late Saturday afternoon. “But I still think you should meet Charlie’s friend, Gary. I really think he’s more your type.”

Holding the cordless phone on her shoulder while she rummaged in her refrigerator for a snack, Lydia frowned. “Are you saying you didn’t like Scott?”

“Oh, I liked him. I’m just not sure he’s right for you.”

Plucking an apple from the crisper, Lydia closed the refrigerator door and leaned against the counter. “Not that I have plans to run off and marry him or anything, but why do you think he’s wrong for me?”

“I don’t know, exactly. He’s just too…polished. A little too slick and lawyerish. I’m afraid you could be hurt by someone like that, Lyddie.”

Lydia sighed. “That’s hardly fair. Just because you have a silly bias against attorneys—”

“And politicians, corporate types and stuffy academics,” Larissa added without hesitation. “It isn’t just lawyers, even though our father should have taught you a lesson about them.”

Ignoring the pointed reference to their late lawyer father, Lydia continued, “Scott’s really very nice. You shouldn’t judge him—or anyone—by his profession. Not everyone can be an artist or poet or musician.”

“Charlie’s friend isn’t any of those things,” Larissa was quick to point out. “He owns an alternative bookstore—New Age, occult, that sort of thing. He’s very sweet and gentle and deep thinking. Much more your type than that glossy, pretty lawyer.”

Lydia set down her apple with enough force to bruise the skin. “You’re really being very offensive about Scott.”

“Okay, he’s terrific. But so’s Gary. And I think, in the long run, Gary’s more your style.”

It was all Lydia could do not to growl. Larissa was actually criticizing Scott because he was too handsome, charming and successful! She was hardly flattered by her sister’s doubts that such a man could be genuinely interested in her.

“Don’t get me wrong, Lyddie,” Larissa said, apparently finally realizing that her sister was annoyed. “As I said, Scott seemed nice enough. He’d probably be just the guy for a woman interested in a hot, brief, teeth-rattling fling. But since that’s hardly your sort of thing—”

“Hardly.”

“—he’s probably wrong for you,” Larissa concluded evenly. “Gary, on the other hand, is much more suitable. He’s admitted that he’s looking for someone to settle down with—”

“Which I’m not.”

Continuing to ignore Lydia’s interruptions, Larissa went on, “And he shares your passion for classic theater. He never misses a local performance of Shakespeare or any of those old plays you always enjoy.”

“So find him someone else who enjoys theater. I have no interest in meeting him.”

“Just give him a chance, will you? Charlie and I are thinking about throwing a party to show off our new apartment. It would be a good opportunity for you to meet Gary and—”

“Not interested,” Lydia repeated firmly. “I would be delighted to attend your party, of course, but I would like to reserve the right to bring my own escort—or come alone without fear of being harassed by your matchmaking once I get there.”

“You’d bring Scott?” Larissa asked in blatant disapproval.

“Maybe. Or someone else I choose to ask.” Not that she actually knew anyone else at the moment she’d want to invite to a party, she thought. She had plenty of male friends and knew that there were one or two who would like to spend more time with her, but she just didn’t have the time or inclination to get involved in anything right now. She was much too busy with her career pursuits and didn’t want to risk sending mixed signals about her feelings.

That was what had been so easy about her date with Scott yesterday, she mused. There’d been no false expectations on either side. She had been free to enjoy his company, admire his undeniable attributes—even indulge in a few harmless daydreams—without worrying that her heart would be broken since she wasn’t in danger of creating false hopes.

All in all, he’d been the perfect escort at this point in her life, she decided. She wondered if he would be interested in spending another totally undemanding evening with her. If she could get up the nerve to suggest it to him.

“Fine,” Larissa grumbled. “Bring whoever you like. Or come alone. Either way, Gary will be there. You might just discover that I know exactly what you need.”

“And you might have to admit that I’m the only one who really knows what I need,” Lydia retorted.

All she needed, she thought as she hung up the phone a few minutes later, was a friend. And Scott had very generously offered just that.

“You’re sure I’m dressed appropriately?” Lydia fretted on the following Saturday afternoon.

Sitting behind the wheel of his little sports car, Scott smiled. “Relax, Lydia. You look great.”

She smoothed the khaki slacks she wore with a thin white twin sweater set. “What can I expect to happen at this party?”

He chuckled, amused at her uncharacteristic show of nerves. “I take it you’re the type of person who doesn’t like surprises?”

“No,” she admitted. “I like to have everything planned and spelled out for me in advance. Not knowing what to expect makes me nervous.”

“I hate to tell you this, but you can never know what to expect at one of these parties.”

She groaned softly.

Reaching over to pat her clenched hands, Scott added reassuringly, “There’s really nothing to worry about. My friends enjoy getting together occasionally for an evening of food and games. We used to gather once a month, but we’ve all gotten so busy lately it’s harder to find the time.”

“What kind of games do they play?”

With a perfectly straight face, he replied, “Strip poker and naked Twister, usually. I hope you aren’t modest.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her blink, then frown. “I was being serious, Scott.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t?” When she only glared at him, he chuckled. “Okay, sorry. Usually we play trivia games or charades or word games that can be played in teams. The game itself doesn’t matter. It’s just the chance to get together and have fun.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I’m really not very good at games.”

“Lydia, you’re going to give yourself an ulcer worrying about everything this way. Chill out.”

“I’ll try,” she promised, pressing a hand to her stomach as if she were already suffering from the condition he’d warned her about.

Scott found her nervousness rather endearing. He thought it was funny that a woman of her impressive reputation was worried about an evening of games with his friends. “Just relax and have a good time. I think you’ll like everyone there.”

“But will they like me?”

“How could they not?”

A hint of pink stained her cheeks. “That was very nice. Thank you.”

He smiled. “Thank you for coming with me this evening.”

“It was a fair trade,” she reminded him. “I’ll keep your sister at bay for you this evening and you’ve promised to help me fend off Larissa’s efforts to fix me up with Charlie’s friend, Gary.”

“This was a great idea,” he said, pleased with himself for coming up with it. When he learned that Lydia’s sister was still matchmaking as relentlessly as Heather was, he had proposed a plan he hoped would give them some relief until their sisters had moved on to other projects. He and Lydia would be “standby escorts,” he’d suggested. Whenever one of them needed a no-strings, no-pressure date for an event, they could call the other. If they were available, they’d make an effort to go along to distract the matchmakers.

Lydia had been a bit hesitant at first. “I thought we agreed that neither of us really has time for dating anyone right now.”

“We won’t be dating,” he had argued. “Not really. We’ll just be keeping each other company at the occasional obligatory social event. I really enjoy your company, Lydia.”

“I enjoy yours, too. But—”

“We’re friends. I’d much rather spend an evening with a friend than with a blind date, wouldn’t you?”

She had almost shuddered. “I hate blind dates. I’ve never had one that wasn’t a disaster.”

“Same here. And every time I ask anyone out lately, it seems like she wants a hell of a lot more than I’ve got time or energy to offer while I’m pursuing a partnership with my firm. You have your own career goals and you don’t want anyone to interfere with them—which I wouldn’t. It seems to be the perfect plan—at least until Heather and Larissa realize that they might as well give up.”

“And how long do you think that will take?”

“Heather’s getting married at the end of June—four months from now. I figure she’ll start getting pretty busy with that soon. Too busy to worry about my social life, I hope. As for Larissa—what do you think?”

“She has a pretty short attention span,” Lydia had admitted. “She’ll probably drift on to another scheme within the next few weeks.”

“So there you are. We aren’t committing to anything long-term or time-consuming. You’ll go with me to a couple of things. I’ll escort you when you need me. Our sisters will assume we’re together and they’ll stop trying to arrange dates for us.”

“And what if they assume there’s more between us than there really is?”

“Who cares? We’ll know the truth.”

“Well,” she had said slowly, “Larissa has been hinting about throwing a housewarming party at her new apartment. She’s determined to use the occasion to introduce me to some guy named Gary. If you were there with me, it would be much less awkward.”

“I’d be delighted,” he had said cheerfully.

So here they were, turning onto the road that ended at the Walker ranch outside of Dallas. Scott was confident that he and Lydia would share a very pleasant evening with his friends. He could really relax tonight, he thought in satisfaction. Unlike a “real” date, Lydia wouldn’t expect him to pay more attention to her than to his friends. She wouldn’t get her feelings crushed if he talked to someone else for a while. There wouldn’t be any awkward, how-will-the-evening-end questions. All he would owe her after the party ended was a reciprocal turn at her sister’s affair.

He should have thought of something like this months ago when Heather had first started going overboard with this matchmaking thing. Of course, he hadn’t really known Lydia well enough to suggest such a plan then, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else he knew being such a good sport about it.

He parked his sports car between Cameron’s fancy SUV and Michael Chang’s aging pickup. “Looks like everyone’s here already. That’s Heather’s car over there.”

“We’re late?” Perpetually punctual Lydia seemed disturbed by the possibility.

“We’re right on time. Everyone else is early.”

She cleared her throat and patted a hand over her sleek brown hair. “Signal me if I do anything stupid.”

He laughed. “As if you could.”

“Trust me. When it comes to intimate social situations, I am definitely challenged.”

He only laughed again and opened his door.

Although there were only three other couples, it seemed to Lydia that the small house was filled with people, all watching her in surreptitious speculation. Apparently, Scott usually attended this sort of gathering without bringing a date. Her presence with him this time—following so closely their appearance at the charity affair last weekend—was obviously arousing his friends’ curiosity.

She found herself wondering if this plan Scott had concocted was such a good idea after all.

Because he knew she wouldn’t remember everyone she’d met at the charity event, Scott reintroduced her to everyone. He started with their hosts, Shane and Kelly Walker.

“It’s very nice to see you again,” Lydia assured them politely. “You have a lovely home.”

Kelly, a petite strawberry blonde with a gamine haircut and a warm, friendly expression, looked pleased by the compliment. “Thank you. We didn’t really have a chance to talk at that crowded, noisy thing last weekend. We can get to know each other better this evening.”

Kelly’s husband, a tanned, blue-eyed cowboy with a smile that had probably broken hearts all over Texas, studied Lydia with open curiosity. “I understand you’re a science professor?”

“An associate professor.”

“She teaches microbiology classes,” Scott added.

“And are you involved in research?” Shane asked.

“Not as much as I hope to be after I obtain my doctorate this spring.”

“That explains it, then,” Shane drawled, looping an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

Scott eyed his friend suspiciously. “Explains what?”

Shane’s grin was definitely wicked. “I was just wondering how you persuaded such an attractive and intelligent woman to spend a second evening with you. Obviously, she’s conducting some sort of scientific research on strange and unusual subjects.”

As Scott muttered something that might have been a mild obscenity, Lydia smiled and shook her head. “I confine my research to bacteria, viruses and other microorganisms. I leave studies of subjects like Scott to my colleagues in the psychology department.”

Shane and Kelly laughed. Scott turned to Lydia with a look of amused surprise. “Hey!” he said. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

“Our side, obviously,” a man Lydia remembered from the charity event said as he joined them. “I can tell she’s going to fit right in.”

Trying to remember his name, Lydia smiled, pleased that her impulsive jest had proven entertaining.

“Don’t you start, Cameron,” Scott warned. “If I want insults, I’ll depend on my sister. Or my date, apparently,” he added darkly, giving Lydia an exaggerated glower that made her laugh.

Maybe the evening wouldn’t be so bad after all, she thought.

And then Scott’s sister approached and Lydia’s smile faded a bit. Even as Heather greeted her quite courteously, Lydia once again had the impression that Heather wasn’t enthusiastic about seeing her with Scott. She wished she knew what she’d done to cause Heather to disapprove of her—if it was true.

“Are you people insulting my dear brother?” Heather demanded.

“Of course we are,” Cameron replied.

“Great. How can I get in on the fun?” she asked with a grin.

“Why don’t you guys come up with some original material while Lydia and I speak to the others?” Scott suggested, taking her arm.

“I’ll bring out the snacks,” Kelly said, giving her husband a look.

He responded promptly. “I’ll help you.”

True to his word, Scott guided Lydia around the roomy, wood-paneled den where the other guests were grouped on comfortable furniture. She greeted Heather’s fiancé, Dr. Steve Carter, and was relieved that he didn’t seem to share Heather’s doubts about her. Scott introduced her to Michael and Judy Chang, who seemed like a nice couple. They hadn’t attended the charity affair as far as she remembered.

Scott turned then to the golden-haired, blue-eyed man who had approached them earlier—Cameron North, she remembered now. “Cam, you want to introduce your friend?” Scott asked.

Cameron nodded toward the curvaceous, rather bored-looking brunette who hadn’t bothered to rise from her chair. “This is Alexis Thorne. Alexis, meet my buddy, Scott Pearson, and his friend, Lydia McKinley.”

Something about the way Alexis glanced at Cameron made Lydia suspect that the couple had recently quarreled and she still hadn’t gotten over her irritation with him. Alexis murmured a cool acknowledgment of the introduction, then subsided into silence again.

Lydia watched as, from behind Alexis’s back, Cameron rolled his eyes at Scott. Cameron, she thought, was not pleased with his date. Having endured a few awkward evenings with incompatible escorts herself, she was even more determined at this point to resist Larissa’s fix-up efforts. Her arrangement with Scott suited her very well for now, no matter how temporary it would turn out to be.

The evening proceeded with a great deal of teasing and conversation. The guests consumed an impressive amount of snacks and soft drinks. Scott, Lydia discovered, had a real passion for chocolate and was not averse to battling for the last piece. And she couldn’t help noticing that he rarely lost.

They split into teams for games, and Alexis’s visible lack of enthusiasm couldn’t dampen the good-naturedly fierce competition among the others. Lydia proved to be a knowledgeable contestant in the trivia game they’d selected. Especially when it came to science and medicine categories, she had almost all the answers.

“Man,” Michael groaned, having lost yet another round to Lydia and Scott, “you guys are stomping us. Lydia’s a handy person to have on your team.”

Scott grinned and draped an arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “I’ve noticed that. We make pretty good partners.”

Vividly aware of that arm around her, Lydia noticed that Heather’s smile suddenly looked forced. She wondered if she was only being paranoid, if she was only imagining that Heather disapproved of her. Maybe she should suggest to Scott that he should reassure his sister that there was nothing to worry about. That she and Scott were just friends and nothing else was likely to develop.

Because she didn’t want to foster a wrong impression, she reached for her soft drink, subtly dislodging Scott’s arm. To her relief, he immediately became involved in a spirited conversation with Shane, giving her enough time to recover her equilibrium. She didn’t know why she’d gotten so rattled just because Scott had touched her so easily. Friends touched, she reminded herself, glancing across the room to where Cameron was standing with an arm around Michael’s wife, Judy. No one seemed to think a thing about that, she told herself. They’d probably hardly noticed anything between her and Scott.

“So, Lydia,” Kelly said, sliding into a seat next to her, “you study germs and bacteria and stuff?”

Smiling, Lydia nodded. “That’s all part of the microbiology field.”

“So can you tell me about all those antibacterial products on the market now? They sound great, but some doctors seem to think they’re terrible.”

Okay, Lydia, keep it brief, she warned herself. Don’t overexplain.

Fifteen minutes later, she was still discussing the growing concern in the scientific community about the indiscriminate use of antibacterial agents and the potential increase of antibiotic-resistant bacteria as a result. “People think coating their hands with antibacterial lotions and gels will keep them from contracting colds or flu, when those illnesses are actually caused by viruses, which are unaffected by antibacterial products,” she concluded.

“But what about kitchen counters?” Judy asked, making Lydia suddenly aware that most of the others had gathered around to listen. “Isn’t it a good idea to use antibacterial cleaners there?”

“The best household cleaner is ordinary bleach,” she answered. “It kills most germs without building resistance in remaining bacteria.”

“So plain soap and water works best for hands, and bleach effectively cleans counters and bathroom fixtures,” Kelly summarized.

“Exactly. Antibiotics and antibacterial agents are best reserved for a needs-only basis to maintain their effectiveness.”

Judy still looked a bit confused. “Then why are more antibacterial products being produced all the time?”

“Because they sell merchandise,” Dr. Steve Carter answered simply, approaching the group in time to hear the question. “The manufacturers are playing on the public’s fear of germs. And people are confused about what exactly antibiotics are best used for. That’s why they pressure doctors to prescribe antibiotics for every little cough and sniffle, even those caused by viruses. Antibiotics used in those cases cause more harm than good, actually, and we’re seeing the results in bacterial infections that are not responding to longtime standard antibiotics.”

“That’s what Lydia was just explaining to us,” Kelly told him. “Thanks for clarifying this for me,” she added to Lydia. “All the conflicting news stories get confusing sometimes.”

Scott crossed the room to lean cozily against the arm of Lydia’s chair. “Lydia has a knack for making complicated subjects relatively easy to understand. You should hear her talk about forensic DNA.”

Steve smiled. “I would probably find that interesting, myself.”

Heather, who’d been notably quiet for the past few minutes, suddenly spoke up. “Did I mention to anyone that Steve and I have been able to book the Elroys for our wedding reception?”

“The Elroys?” Judy Chang almost squealed the name. “Oh, they’re wonderful! But I’ve heard they’re almost impossible to book locally these days because they’ve become so popular. How did you manage?”

Looking quite pleased with herself, Heather beamed. “That’s a very funny story, actually.”

She launched into a colorfully enthusiastically embellished anecdote that soon had the others laughing. It briefly occurred to Lydia that Heather had deliberately drawn everyone’s attention to herself and away from Lydia. But then she told herself it didn’t matter—nor was it further evidence that Heather didn’t care for her. People didn’t go to parties to hear about bacteria and the other things that especially interested her, she reminded herself. They wanted to laugh and gossip and have fun, not be lectured to by a microbiology professor.

Cameron, it seemed, was still more interested in microbes than music groups. Discreetly drawing Lydia aside, he asked quietly, “I know Scott’s consulted with you occasionally about forensic DNA. Would you mind if I call you with a question now and then? In my reporting, I sometimes cover crime stories that hinge on DNA and the conflicting ‘expert opinions’ I hear in the courtroom often need clarifying.”

“Conflicting opinions are the only defense against strong DNA evidence.” She dug in her purse and drew out a business card with her office number printed on it. On the back, she scribbled her home number. “Feel free to call anytime. I’m always happy to answer questions about my work.”

Cameron pocketed the card and gave her a high-voltage smile. “That’s very generous of you.”

From across the room where he had moved to munch chips and talk to Shane, Scott suddenly reappeared at Lydia’s side. He draped an arm around her shoulders and gave Cameron a bland smile. “Trying to make time with my date, Cam?”

Cameron glanced pointedly across the room to where Alexis looked almost comatose with boredom. “Actually, I’m going to take my date home before she completely ruins the evening. She’s ticked off at me because I won’t go with her to some sort of family reunion next weekend. You know I don’t do family things.”

“So this is your last date with Alexis?”

Cameron nodded fatalistically. “I believe it is.”

Scott’s smile had a wicked edge to it. “I’ll tell Heather. I’m sure she would be absolutely delighted to fix you up with someone. She says she has a talent for that sort of thing.”

Cameron shuddered. “Thanks, but don’t bother. I’ll find my own companionship when I want it.”

Scott looked pointedly at the shirt pocket in which Cameron had slipped Lydia’s card. “Is that right?”

Cameron only smiled at Scott before turning to Lydia. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you. You’ll be hearing from me.”

She nodded, well aware that Cameron was much more interested in her education than anything else about her. She wasn’t oblivious to the attractions of his bright blue eyes and flashing smile, but there was no real chemistry between them. Maybe they could be friends, she mused. She always welcomed new friends.

Scott’s arm tightened a bit around her shoulders. If she didn’t know better, she would think his behavior indicated masculine possessiveness. She assumed he was putting on this act to further discourage his sister’s matchmaking, but she intended to ask him to stop. She had agreed to keep him company at a couple of social occasions, but she saw no reason to resort to outright deception.

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