by Gina Wilkins
“I’ve never told her we were anything but friends. I have no control over her vivid imagination.”
“But shouldn’t you tell her—”
“I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t need to know,” Scott said firmly. “And I expect her to be polite to you whenever she sees us together.”
Since Lydia didn’t expect that to happen often—if ever again—she decided to let the comment pass.
“So now we’re on for your sister’s party,” Scott commented.
She twisted her fingers in her lap. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea. I’d hate for things to become even more awkward between us and our sisters.”
Scott nodded pleasantly. “Sure. No problem. If you’d rather spend the evening with Charlie’s friend, Gary—”
“Okay, we’re on,” Lydia broke in, neatly trapped.
He laughed softly, his rather smug tone tempting her to punch his arm.
She seemed to have gotten herself involved in something that was spiraling out of her control. Wouldn’t it be easier to just stand firm and tell their siblings to butt out of their social lives?
It had seemed like a good idea at the beginning to have a friend who was a convenient “standby escort.” She knew other platonic couples who had similar arrangements. But she wasn’t sure it would be as easy for her and Scott. She was having to remind herself a bit too often that they weren’t really “dating.” That neither of them was interested in a relationship at this point. That she wasn’t really a part of his group of friends. She shouldn’t have to keep reminding herself of those things, she thought with a frown.
Scott insisted on walking Lydia to her door even though it was only upstairs from his own apartment, as she futilely pointed out. It made no difference. He remained by her side as she climbed the stairs.
“I’ll call you later in the week,” he said at her door. “Let me know when your sister schedules her housewarming party.”
She nodded.
Scott chuckled and reached out to give her a quick hug. “Don’t look so apprehensive, Lydia. Tonight went very well, on the whole. We can handle your sister’s party.”
Even knowing he was a “toucher” didn’t keep her from becoming a bit flustered by the hug. Feeling her cheeks warm, she cleared her throat and awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Well…good night, Scott.”
He stood for a moment looking down at her, close enough that his breath ruffled her hair. Her stomach fluttered; she had to resist an impulse to press a hand to it. She was beginning to wonder if he was going to respond to her words when he finally spoke. “Good night, Lydia. Sleep well.”
She nodded, not quite sure she trusted her voice, then slipped inside her apartment. She closed the door between them with a bit more haste than courtesy.
Lydia hadn’t realized quite how dull her wardrobe had become until she was skimming through her closet Monday morning in preparation for work. “Black, black, navy, gray,” she muttered, sliding hangers across the bar. “Don’t I even own anything in red or green?”
She didn’t know why she’d suddenly become aware of her fashion limitations. Clothes didn’t usually matter that much to her as long as she was neat and generally coordinated. Larissa was the one who used clothes as a personality statement—bold and colorful and daring. Slipping into a knee-length navy skirt with a white shell and navy jacket, she told herself it was time for a shopping excursion. With the exception of the gown she’d bought for the charity auction, she hadn’t been clothes shopping in quite a while.
This time she wouldn’t take Larissa with her, she decided. Despite her sister’s undeniable sense of style, she was too determined to try to dress Lydia like herself. She wouldn’t mind having a friend go with her, but she couldn’t think of anyone right offhand to call. Most of the women she knew were professional associates with whom she rarely socialized outside of the meetings and official gatherings where she usually saw them. It seemed that she’d neglected more than her wardrobe during her single-minded pursuit of her degrees and her career.
Maybe seeing Scott with his friends had started her thinking along these lines. They’d seemed so close. So comfortable together. She suspected they had their share of disagreements but would rally around without question if one of their own was in trouble.
Lydia had never belonged to a group like that. And she was keenly aware of that lack as she left for the job that had seemed so all-important to her for so long.
Because she had no classes that afternoon, Lydia decided to do a bit of shopping that very day. She needed some clothes. She had a few free hours to shop. She intended to get it done as quickly and efficiently as possible.
Scott spotted Lydia’s car turning into the parking lot of their apartment complex just as he approached in his own car. He pulled in behind her, parking two spaces down.
“Hey,” he drawled, climbing out from behind the wheel. “How’s it going, Professor?”
“Hello, Scott.” She opened the rear door of her car as she returned the greeting.
Gripping an attaché case filled with papers he planned to read later that evening, he circled behind her car, noting the number of packages piled on the back seat. “I see you’ve been shopping.”
“Very perceptive of you.” She stacked packages precariously in her arms, then reached for more.
“Looks like you bought out the store.”
“Not completely.”
Her juggling act was getting impressive. He watched in fascination as she added another bag to the pile. “Need any help?”
“I can get it.” Steadying the stack with her chin, she reached for her purse. And promptly spilled everything else into the back seat again. She muttered a mild curse.
Laughing, Scott asked, “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Sighing, she brushed her hair out of her face and frowned at the mess in her car. “Maybe I could use a hand.”
“I just happen to have one free.”
They bent simultaneously to pick up a large, thick manila envelope that had fallen at her feet. They came within an inch of bumping heads, both of them almost stumbling in their effort to avoid the collision. Laughing again, Scott dropped his briefcase and reached out to catch her shoulders, steadying them both.
“And my day was going so well until now,” Lydia said with a low moan, closing her eyes.
He feigned indignation. “Are you saying your day started falling apart when I showed up?”
She opened her eyes and smiled. “I certainly didn’t mean to imply that.”
“You really have a lovely smile,” Scott murmured on impulse, admiring the little indentations at each corner of her mouth.
Her cheeks darkened. She moved a bit restlessly beneath his hands. “Um…thank you. We really should…”
Her voice faded as if she’d forgotten exactly what it was they should be doing. They continued to kneel beside her car, his hands on her shoulders, their faces only inches apart.
Their mouths were very close, Scott couldn’t help noticing. He would only have to lower his head a very short distance—
“Scott?”
Her voice brought him back to his senses. What was he doing? Had he actually been thinking about kissing Lydia? That certainly wasn’t the sort of friendly, platonic relationship they’d agreed to.
But it might have been an interesting experience, he thought with a touch of regret. “Let me help you up.”
She stepped away from him as soon as they were on their feet. Something about the flustered way she was acting made him wonder if the thought of a kiss had crossed her mind, as well.
Avoiding his eyes, she piled his arms with packages, then gathered the rest of her things. Scott caught a glimpse of several colorful garments beneath protective plastic coverings. “New clothes?”
“A few. My wardrobe was getting limited.”
She matched her steps to his, keeping her eyes focused on the apartment building ahead of them. “How was
your day? You’re home earlier than usual, aren’t you?”
He was rather surprised that she knew he usually arrived home much later. “Yes, actually, I am. I have some paperwork to concentrate on and there were too many distractions at the office. There’s a meeting going on there that will probably run very late, and even though it doesn’t involve me, people kept poking their heads in my office to tell me something.”
Lydia nodded sympathetically. “That’s the way it is at my office. There’s always a student or fellow faculty member waiting to talk to me, and the phone rings off the hook, and the computer constantly tells me I have more e-mail. Sometimes the only way I can get any work done is to lock myself in my apartment, turn off the phone, pull down the blinds and pretend to be out of town.”
“That’s sort of what I have in mind for this evening.”
“Then I won’t cause you any further delay.” She balanced her load while she unlocked her door. “Thank you for helping me bring my things up.”
“You’re welcome.”
Feeling as though she was brushing him off, he had the obstinate urge to linger—even though he’d told the truth about the amount of work he wanted to get done that evening.
“You can just pile those things on that chair,” she said when they entered her living room.
He dumped the packages on the wing chair she’d indicated. “Have you talked to your sister since I saw you last?”
“Yes, she called yesterday.”
“Has she made plans for her party yet?”
“She’s thinking about Friday night at eight.”
“Then unless something changes, I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”
Lydia cleared her throat and glanced down at her hands. “I know how busy you are, Scott. I’ve been thinking about this, and there’s really no need for you to make time to go to my sister’s party. Her friends are a little…well, eccentric…and it won’t be at all like the quiet, comfortable evening with your friends. I’ve decided it’s ridiculous for me to worry about Larissa’s scheming. I’ll just tell her very firmly that I’m not interested in meeting Charlie’s friend, and that should put an end to it.”
Were they really going to have to go through this argument again? Scott wondered why Lydia had suddenly become so nervous about taking him. She had said she enjoyed his company, so it wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with him—at least he hoped not. “I’d really like to go, if you don’t mind. Spending an evening with a group of artists would be an interesting change of pace for me. I think it will be fun.”
She looked doubtfully at him. “You think it will be fun?”
“Sure. I haven’t had the opportunity to mingle with many artists. Usually, I hang out with lawyers, cowboys and corporate types. I always enjoy meeting people with different interests.”
“Larissa’s friends are definitely different,” she murmured.
“I look forward to meeting them.”
“Well…if you’re sure.”
“I’m quite sure.” He didn’t know why exactly he was so determined to go. While it was true that he thought an evening with artists might be interesting, he wasn’t certain that was his primary motivation. And although he considered it a payback of sorts because Lydia had gone with him to the Walker ranch, he didn’t think she would hold him to the obligation. Maybe he just wanted to spend more time with her. They were friends, he reminded himself. Friends enjoyed spending time together. Sharing experiences. Sharing an occasional hug, he added, remembering how nice it had felt to have his arm around her.
He supposed he should go. He had work to do, and so did she. So why did he find himself wanting to hang around just to talk to her a while longer, to watch the expressions crossing her face?
Startled by the unexpected turn his thoughts had taken, he shook his head slightly and stepped toward the door. “I’ll be seeing you, Lydia.”
“Let me get the door for you.”
She reached for the doorknob at the same moment he did. Their hands collided, his fingers sliding over hers. Impulsively, he tightened them, capturing her hand in his. “I’ve got you now,” he teased.
She smiled. “And just what do you plan to do with me?”
Now that was an interesting question. He kept her hand in his while he considered it. She had pretty hands, he noted. Long fingers. Neat, oval nails.
“Um, Scott?”
He lifted his gaze from her pretty hand to her equally pretty blue eyes. “Yes?”
“You were leaving?”
“Mmm. I’m going. In a minute.”
“Is there something else you want to say?”
“Something else I want to do,” he corrected her.
“And that is?”
“This.” Before she could guess his intentions—and before he could give it a second thought—he tugged at her hand, pulling her into his arms. Her lips parted to speak; he smothered whatever she might have said with his mouth.
He’d paid a lot of attention lately to her full, soft mouth. He’d found himself wondering how it would taste. And now he knew—pure heaven.
Chapter Five
Probably because he had taken her so completely by surprise, Lydia didn’t resist Scott’s kiss at first. He thought she was actually beginning to respond—her lips warmed and softened, moving just slightly against his—and then she seemed to come to her senses. She pulled away from him with a gasp, her eyes huge.
“What,” she demanded, “was that?”
“That,” he replied, “was curiosity. You’re a scientist. You should understand the impulse to experiment.”
She frowned. “I do my experimenting in my lab, not my living room.”
Half-aroused and fully amused by her stern tone, he studied the high color in her cheeks and the temperamental glitter in her eyes. Outrage suited her, he decided. Passion would look even better on her. He didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from or what had prompted his uncharacteristic behavior.
Lydia drew herself up and gave him a look he imagined she might have given one of her students who stepped out of line. In her chilliest, college-professor voice, she said, “I really think it would be better if we refrain from any further ‘experimenting.’ We’ve agreed not to cloud our comfortable friendship with potentially sticky complications.”
“It was only a kiss, Lydia.”
His wry reminder made her cheeks darken again. “I’m aware of that.”
“A very nice kiss, actually.”
“Yes…I mean, that isn’t relevant.”
Telling himself to leave before he ruined what had been a very pleasant association, he smiled and held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “You’re right. I was out of line and I apologize. I won’t say I regret it, but I do apologize,” he added.
She seemed on the verge of snapping at him, but then she drew a deep breath and spoke in measured tones. “Thank you for helping me with my packages. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we both have work to do this evening.”
He nodded. “The one thing both of us always make time for is work.”
“Let’s just say it’s the only thing I do well,” she murmured, this time opening the door without interference from him.
“Somehow I’m beginning to doubt that,” Scott muttered, finding himself suddenly in the hallway, her door closed firmly between them.
Lydia didn’t see Scott during the days that passed after that wholly unexpected kiss at her door. Truth was, she very carefully avoided him that week, throwing herself totally into her work. But being out of sight did not mean Scott was out of mind. She thought of him all too often during those days, sometimes to the detriment of her concentration on more pressing matters.
She had replayed the kiss dozens of times in her mind and was still no closer to understanding what had motivated it. Had it truly been just a whim on Scott’s part?
An “experiment,” he’d called it. She wondered what he’d learned from it. Did he regret the impulsive action—or did
he expect it to happen again?
She wasn’t even sure what her answer to those questions would be. Did she regret that Scott had kissed her? Well, no, not exactly. It had been a very nice kiss—and, she had to admit, something she’d daydreamed about on more than one occasion.
Scott hadn’t been the only one who’d been curious about what a kiss between them would be like. He was merely the one who’d given in first to the urge to find out.
As for whether she wanted it to happen again—she should probably say no. When she was in Scott’s arms, the line between fantasy and reality became a bit too blurred, and that could prove dangerous to an admittedly vulnerable heart. It had seemed safe enough to go out with him as platonic friends. But if they were to start clouding the comfortable relationship with physical attraction—no matter how casual or temporary Scott considered it to be—she wasn’t sure she could deal with that.
She had considered calling him and canceling the date for Larissa’s party. She hadn’t done so primarily because she hadn’t known what to say to him. She decided instead to pretend nothing had happened between them Monday afternoon and hope Scott would go along with the charade.
When her doorbell rang at the appointed time Friday evening, she wondered for one panicky moment if she’d made a big mistake by letting this date stand. What would she say to him now? How was she supposed to act? What, if anything, did he want from her?
She wasn’t even comfortable with what she had chosen to wear. One of the outfits she’d impulsively purchased Monday afternoon, it consisted of a thin, close-fitting red sweater and a long, straight wrap skirt of a silky black fabric printed with poppies. She wore chunky-heeled black shoes and onyx-and-silver jewelry. She’d thought the ensemble looked bright and cheery when she tried it on at the store. Now she wondered if the sweater was too tight, the plunging neckline too low. If the color was too bright, the style too young for her. She probably should have stayed with her usual selection of business suits and blazers.
Running a hand down the printed skirt, she opened the door in response to the second buzz of her doorbell.