Caro Carson - The Bachelor Doctor's Bride

Regardless, he surely had not assumed she paid her bills from the sale of Lana’s house.

“Moonlight Serenade” was in full swing without her.

Diana stifled a sigh and turned to the other two women. She stuck her hand out so the stooped-shoulder girl would have to take it.

“My name is Diana. Isn’t this a great ball?”

Chapter Three

Quinn kept one eye on Diana as she led the quiet girl into the ballroom’s far corner. The other woman with Patricia had been introduced as Karen Weaver, the new director of the Austin-area’s branch of Texas Rescue and Relief. Quinn kept Diana in his peripheral vision while he greeted Karen and said all the appropriate things about Texas Rescue’s importance in times of crisis. He almost wished Diana could hear him, so she’d know he wasn’t always as curt as he’d been when she’d first spoken to him. He had the requisite social graces. His mother had raised him right.

Karen Weaver said all the right things in return, complimenting Patricia on the quality of volunteers she recruited for Texas Rescue, physicians like Quinn.

Quinn had long volunteered with Texas Rescue and Relief, a home state organization that stood ready to offer medical help should natural disaster strike anywhere in Texas. Last summer, they’d sweltered in makeshift tents near the border of Oklahoma in order to provide medical care after tornados had torn through a small town.

“Yes, of course I’m committed to another year of service,” Quinn assured the new director. “Let’s hope the summer is hot, dry and boring.”

He made a toasting gesture with his champagne flute, and Patricia tugged at his sleeve. “Do get me some champagne, would you?”

Quinn flagged a passing waiter to stop. Patricia took a flute as Karen declined, their momentary fuss giving Quinn the opportunity to focus on Diana. She was practically hiding behind a potted palm with the new girl.

“Who is the young lady you’re dragging along?” he asked Patricia.

“My father’s second wife’s stepdaughter, or some such nonsense. I refuse to introduce her as a Cargill. She goes by the ironically perky name Becky.” She hadn’t taken a sip of her glass, but instead dumped the sparkling wine into the empty flute that sat on the table. Diana’s empty flute.

“I thought your father was on his third wife now,” Quinn said, sliding Diana’s now-full flute closer to himself. “And this glass was in use, by the way.”

Patricia shrugged. “I sincerely doubt your real estate agent will care what it was refilled with. And wife number three is exactly why I had no idea I’d be forced to babysit number two’s offspring.” She held her glass in front of Quinn. “Do pour a girl something halfway decent.”

Quinn could hardly refuse her, although he’d planned on putting that bottle to better use. He filled her glass. “You make a terrible wingman.”

“Do I?” Patricia laughed. “Don’t tell me Dr. Quinn MacDowell of the West Central MacDowells needs help landing a real estate agent for the evening, especially one dressed so... Or are you Cowboy Quinn of the River Mack Ranch tonight?”

Quinn hadn’t tried to flaunt either side of himself, actually. Diana had talked to him as a complete stranger, without introduction. It was, he realized, unusual. Refreshing. Perfect strangers were perfect equals.

“Either way, she’s not your type.” Patricia slipped her arm through his.

“I’m in a better position than you to know my type.” Quinn said it mildly. He included Karen in their conversation. “Don’t worry. Your recruiter and I are not having a lover’s spat. Patricia is merely the annoying sister I never had.”

Still, being told Diana wasn’t his type didn’t sit well with him. Having an identifiable type seemed uninspiring. Monotonous. Was he required to stay within this restricted social circle of the hospital, Texas Rescue, and the ranch owner associations?

Haven’t I dated all the available women in that pool?

They were all starting to blur together in his memory. It hadn’t been hard to stay unattached this past year.

Tonight, he was suddenly obsessing about his own love life. It was ludicrous, when the only reason he’d attended this ball was specifically to fulfill his duties to the hospital as a board member. Meeting the new director of Texas Rescue was an efficient use of the evening, as well. Worrying about female companionship? Not on the radar. Not an issue. Not important.

He resisted the urge to look toward Diana’s corner of the ballroom.

“Have you seen Marcel around?” Patricia asked, referring to her current escort. “He’s so easy to lose. Oh, Lord—your redhead and my ex-step-in-law are on their way back. I can’t take it. Quick, top off my glass.”

Quinn only raised an eyebrow at her. To refill her glass would imply that he agreed that Patricia’s gloomy girl and the bubbly Diana were burdens best borne with the help of alcohol. Quinn didn’t know the girl, of course, but Diana’s company didn’t require a dose of alcohol. She was not a part of their usual circle, but being with her was no burden.

Diana emerged from the corner, talking and laughing, looking colorful and alive and wonderfully modern against her Victorian surroundings. The solemn girl she’d dragged off with her was laughing, as well. Quinn had to look twice to be sure she was Patricia’s step-whatever. Becky, who had all but disappeared in Patricia’s shadow, was now walking confidently, eagerly answering a question Diana asked, and generally looking happy.

Had being around Diana done as much for him tonight? He suspected it had. Being around Diana lifted people’s spirits. And he, for all his medical training and his business acumen, had no idea how she did it.

She fascinated him.

Quinn wished he’d had a chance to dance with her, but she’d clearly moved on to a new protégée for the evening.

“We’re back,” Diana said brightly.

Patricia cast a critical eye in her step-whatever’s direction, then took a dramatically deep drink from her flute.

Quinn watched the young lady deflate a little, as if Patricia were the kryptonite to Diana’s superpower. It was hardly young Becky’s fault that Patricia’s father’s second wife had dumped her into Patricia’s hands.

He smiled sympathetically at Diana’s protégée. Becky would be all right. Diana had clearly taken her under her wing, and she’d have her dancing in no time.

The new Texas Rescue director was speaking. Her plans for the coming year were important, and her need for financial and facility support from the hospital were legitimate. Quinn could only lend her half an ear, however. The rest of him was distracted by details from his earlier conversations with Diana.

This would be much harder if you were a woman...you’d have to hope he asked you to dance.

It wasn’t always good to have a mind that held details, endless details like Diana’s description of the challenges faced by a woman who wanted to be asked to dance. When piecing together a medical puzzle, Quinn was grateful for his memory. Right now, it tugged at his conscience.

Patricia set her flute down and turned to him. “Now, would you dance with me?” she asked in her prettiest voice. She could be delightful company when she chose, but Quinn had known her too long and too well to be interested in more than friendship.

“Since your date is heading this way, I think he’ll want this dance.” It was a complete lie, of course, since Quinn hadn’t caught sight of the missing Marcel, but damn it, Patricia had caused her ex-stepsister’s spirits to droop, undoing Diana’s good deed.

Quinn held out his hand toward the timid Becky. “Would you care to dance?”

The young lady brightened up once more and placed her hand in his. It wasn’t the hand he wanted to be holding, and she wasn’t the woman he wanted to dance with. But he’d made her happy by asking her to dance, which had in turn made Diana beam at him in approval. She even bounced on her toes, the tiniest of motions, reminding him of a kid at Christmas.