Surprise Partners
Auteur·e
Gina Wilkins
Lectures
17,4K
Chapitres
15
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.
