Gina Wilkins - Surprise Partners

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.

“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.”