Surprise Partners

by Gina Wilkins

  She hadn’t heard from him during the ten days that had passed since Larissa’s party—since she had turned down his invitation for dinner the next evening. Maybe he’d decided she wouldn’t be so “convenient,” after all.

  “I’ve been trying to convince Lydia to go out with Charlie’s friend, Gary,” Larissa said to Cheyenne. “They seem like a much better match to me. You met Gary at the party, didn’t you? He certainly seemed taken with Lydia. He’s asked Charlie about her several times since.”

  “Gary?” Cheyenne frowned a moment, then nodded. “Oh, yes, I remember. The bookstore owner.”

  “Right. Charlie and I haven’t known him very long, but he’s really nice. He’s a little shy and awkward when you first meet him, but once you get him talking about something other than his inventory, he’s really a very interesting guy. Very sweet.”

  Cheyenne shook her head with a slight frown. “I really didn’t talk to him long enough to form an opinion.”

  Lydia decided she’d had enough of this particular conversation. “Tell us about your life, Cheyenne. I want to hear all about your fiancé and your wedding plans. Where will you live after the wedding? Will you be able to come back to Dallas often?”

  Cheyenne was distracted easily enough by Lydia’s change of subject. She launched into an excited discussion of her upcoming plans, encouraged by more questions from Lydia. Larissa, of course, had to go along for courtesy’s sake, but Lydia knew her reprieve was only temporary. Armed with Cheyenne’s concurring reservations about Scott, Larissa would be even more determined to steer Lydia away from him.

  When the subject did come back up, Lydia intended to make it clear to her sister that there was no reason to worry. There was absolutely nothing going on between her and Scott, nor was there likely to be. And that was exactly what Lydia wanted.

  Right? she asked herself.

  Then sighed wistfully into her salad.

  There were flowers waiting for her when Lydia returned to her office after lunch with Larissa and Cheyenne. Roses again; pink, this time. And, again, there was no card enclosed with the delivery.

  Lydia set her purse on her desk, shaking her head as she stared at the flowers in exasperation. Why did Scott keep sending her roses? Why didn’t he at least send a card to give her a clue to his purpose?

  She realized guiltily that she had never acknowledged the last delivery. She’d thought she would run into him at the apartment complex and could work it in then, but she hadn’t seen him. Maybe she hadn’t looked hard enough? Still flustered by the kiss that had so thoroughly shaken her after Larissa’s party, she had been reluctant to call him. What if he misinterpreted her making the first move?

  And yet he’d sent her flowers once more. Why?

  Not that she was immune to the gesture. She couldn’t help but be a bit flattered by his attentions. She couldn’t even remember the last time a man had given her flowers—and now Scott had done so three times in as many weeks. But she couldn’t stop wondering—just what did he want in return? And was she really interested in having the same sort of relationship with him that he and Paula had had?

  “Sex and laughs,” Cheyenne had called it. Lydia wasn’t particularly comfortable with either option.

  Chapter Seven

  Eight o’clock Thursday evening, and Scott was still at his office, sitting behind a pile of papers he was a long way from working his way through. Dropping the remains of a dry take-out sandwich into his over-flowing wastebasket, he pushed a hand wearily through his hair and considered escape. Maybe he could finish this tomorrow—but no. He had too many other projects due tomorrow. Getting behind now would only throw him behind for the rest of the week—and that was no way to earn a partnership.

  So, he had another couple of hours to put in before he could rest tonight. But it wouldn’t hurt to take a very brief break, he thought. He reached for the phone—something he’d been wanting to do for the past two hours.

  Lydia picked up on the second ring, her voice sounding distracted, as if she, too, had been concentrating deeply on something else.

  “Hi,” he said. “It’s Scott.”

  Her voice changed. Was it wariness he heard now? If so, why? “Um, hello. What can I do for you?” she asked.

  He remembered a bit wryly that she’d told him she wasn’t very good at making small talk. But her rather brusque, straight-to-business tone wasn’t making this particular call any easier. “I was just taking a short break from work. I have a mountain of paperwork to get through this evening, but I thought I’d take a minute to see how you’re doing.”

  “Are you at home?”

  “No, still at the office. I needed access to my files and equipment here. It’ll probably be another couple of hours before I can get away.”

  “Have you had dinner?”

  He glanced toward the wastebasket. “Sort of.”

  “Has it occurred to you that your sister could be right about your working too hard?” she asked wryly.

  “Mmm. And just what were you doing when I called, Professor?”

  She cleared her throat. “Um…working on my thesis.”

  “And how much longer will you be at it this evening?”

  “I was just about to put it away,” she said sanctimoniously. And then added with rueful humor, “I have a stack of papers to grade yet tonight.”

  “Right. So who works too hard?”

  “We both do, I suppose.”

  “Which is part of the reason I called.” He took a quick breath, oddly nervous. “How’d you like to take a few hours off and see a movie with me this weekend? I’ll even let you select a chick flick rather than a shoot-’em-up.”

  “I happen to like the occasional shoot-’em-up,” she replied, making him smile. But then his smile faded when she added, “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. I’ll be out of town this weekend for a microbiology convention.”

  “Oh.” He frowned, unexpectedly disappointed with her answer. “Well…some other time, then?”

  “Of course.” Her reply was just a bit too perfunctory.

  “Funny how we can live in the same apartment building and go so long without even seeing each other, isn’t it?”

  “Not so odd when you consider how little time either of us spends in our apartment.”

  “True.”

  “Which reminds me…I haven’t even had a chance to thank you for the roses.”

  The roses? Scott lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He was quite sure she had thanked him when he’d given her the roses before the Valentine’s Day charity affair weeks ago. What made her bring them up again now? “Yeah, sure. You’re still welcome. Why—”

  “I suppose it was obvious to you that I love roses. But really, Scott, there’s no—”

  Her rather confusing speech was interrupted when his other line buzzed. Since he was expecting a call from a colleague, he sighed and interrupted her. “Lydia, I’m sorry, I have a call coming in and I—”

  “No problem. I have to get back to work myself,” she said quickly.

  “So I’ll see you around, okay? Good luck with your conference.”

  “Thank you. And, Scott…?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get some rest.”

  He smiled. “I will. You, too. Good night, Lydia.”

  He disconnected and took the other call, switching into work mode. He couldn’t help noticing that it took more effort than usual to keep his concentration on business rather than the frustrating and somewhat baffling conversation he’d just had with Lydia.

  Exhausted as always after a weekend conference, Lydia threw her luggage on the bed and gratefully kicked off her shoes on Sunday afternoon. Her answering machine blinked to indicate messages. Tempted to ignore it a while longer, she made herself punch the play button just in case there was anything important she should attend to.

  The first three messages were trivial. She listened to them while she unpacked, then promptly forgot them. The fourth message made h
er pause, a bundle of clothes in her arms.

  “Lydia. This is Gary Dunston. Charlie’s friend? We met at Charlie and Larissa’s housewarming party. I’m the bookstore owner.”

  “Yes, I remember,” she murmured, becoming impatient. “What do you want?”

  “Anyway,” he continued, “Larissa gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind. She suggested I call you.”

  “I’ll definitely strangle her,” Lydia grumbled.

  “Um—there’s this thing. A reception and book signing at my store for a visiting author—he wrote Microbe Mythologies, which made me think of you, of course. Anyway, it’s next Friday night and I thought, maybe, you’d like to come? As my guest?”

  Some people might have found his shy, awkward stumbling rather endearing. Lydia was annoyed with herself for being so critical of him. Not every man could be as smooth and polished as Scott Pearson, she reminded herself. Then winced as she remembered how often Larissa had used those same adjectives in her less-than-flattering descriptions of Scott.

  Gary completed his invitation by reciting his telephone number and asking Lydia to give him a call when she had time. She scribbled the number on the notepad she kept by the phone. She stared at it, wondering what she would say if she dialed it.

  She really wasn’t interested in going out with Gary. He seemed like a perfectly pleasant fellow, but she had no desire to spend time with him. She had so little spare time and she didn’t want to spend it making stilted conversation with a man who just didn’t excite her.

  And then she groaned and covered her face with her hands. Since when had it mattered whether a man excited her or not? She’d dated infrequently during the past couple of years because she hadn’t had time, not because she’d been waiting to be excited. If excitement was what she was looking for, she would have made more time to spend with Scott.

  She really should just stick to her work, she told herself. She was good at that. She understood that. And she didn’t have to be concerned about hurting someone’s feelings at work—or being hurt in return.

  She’d been spending entirely too much time thinking about Scott and his friends. Every time she’d tried to fit in with people from outside her academic world in the past, she’d been hurt. Her heart still bore a few scars from a man who’d professed to love her but had found someone more “fun” while Lydia was working toward her master’s degree.

  She should probably accept Gary’s invitation. It would be the gracious thing to do and would help get her mind off Scott and whatever it was he wanted from her. And it would make Larissa happy—not that she particularly cared about that, since Larissa had gone about this whole fix-up in such an underhanded way.

  Or maybe, she thought with a sigh, flopping backward onto her bed, she should just move to the Antarctic. She could study frozen microbes and socialize with penguins—all in all much less stressful than trying to understand Scott and stay one step ahead of Larissa.

  “I really appreciate your meeting me like this,” Cameron North said to Lydia over dinner at Vittorio’s Wednesday evening.

  She smiled politely at the handsome blond man on the other side of the table for two. “You just happened to catch me when I have a couple of hours free before an evening class. I thought I was going to have to grab a burger for dinner. This is much nicer.”

  He slid a file folder across the table toward her. “This is the story I was telling you about. A local attorney says he has DNA evidence that can clear his new client who’s on death row. The circumstantial evidence against the guy was so strong that a jury convicted him unanimously after only an hour’s deliberation. Now this lawyer says he’s got fifteen-year-old blood samples from the crime scene that prove his guy’s innocence. What do you think? Is it possible?”

  “Certainly. There have been quite a few cases recently in which modern DNA testing has been useful in answering old crime questions. Fifteen years isn’t really so long in comparison with some of the other more spectacular cases I’ve studied.”

  “So will you look over these copies and give me your first impression of the guy’s argument? He’s having trouble getting attention from people who have the power to reopen the case, and he’s hoping publicity can help him. But before I spend much time on this, I’d like to know there’s a reasonable chance he knows what he’s talking about.”

  “I’d be happy to look over your file, but you must understand that I’m no expert at forensic DNA. I’ve studied it and I discuss it in my undergraduate classes, but only on a rather general level.”

  “Scott’s consulted with you.”

  “We’ve had a few friendly, casual discussions—question-and-answer sessions mostly. He hasn’t officially consulted with me on any specific cases. I’m more like his volunteer DNA tutor.”

  Cameron smiled. “Scott told me you have a talent for explaining complex subjects in simple, easy-to-understand terms. Considering my science background, I need something on a level with DNA for Dummies.”

  She laughed. “I take it you aren’t a science reporter?”

  “Political corruption and white-collar crime have been more my usual style. But this one intrigued me, especially since you so generously volunteered to answer questions for me.”

  “I hope I can be of help to you. I’ll look through the file after my class this evening and get back to you sometime tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “The numbers where you can reach me are in the folder. I really appreciate this, Lydia.”

  “You’re welcome.” She took a bite of her pasta, thinking that at least she ate well from her volunteer consulting.

  “So, have you seen Scott lately? He’s been so tied up at work that I haven’t had a chance to catch up with him.”

  She shook her head and looked down at her plate. “No, I haven’t seen him in a while. He and I have both been busy.”

  “I’d make a comment that he works too much, but since I’ve been accused of the same thing lately, I guess I’d better not.”

  “Yes, I get the same criticism.”

  Cameron shrugged. “If you like your work, why wouldn’t you want to spend time doing it? People with spouses and kids have obligations at home, of course, but what are we singles supposed to do with our time? A person can only attend so many parties.”

  “Exactly.” Lydia thought he’d phrased that very well. “I enjoy my work and my studies. I don’t know why people get so bent out of shape because I want to spend time at them.”

  “I know the feeling.” Cameron’s mouth twisted. “If I spend too much leisure time, I’m considered a playboy. Too much time on the job and I’m accused of being a workaholic. A guy just can’t win.”

  “You having dessert tonight, Cam?” the handsome young man who’d been serving them asked, pausing beside the table.

  “Lydia?” Cameron inquired.

  “No, thank you. I have to get to my class.”

  “Nothing for me, either, Nick. I’ll take the check now.”

  The young man nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You seem to be a popular customer here,” Lydia commented, thinking of how many times he’d been greeted by restaurant employees since their arrival.

  “I eat here a lot. The place is owned by the D’Alessandro family. The D’Alessandros have a family connection to my buddy, Shane Walker. Shane and I used to come here when we were broke college students and we could usually wheedle a few snacks out of the owner and his wife.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Lydia suspected that Cameron had “wheedled” quite a few favors in his time. Along with Shane Walker’s sexy cowboy charm, the pair was probably darned near irresistible. She wondered idly how many hearts had been broken when Shane had married Kelly.

  Carrying her purse and the folder he’d brought, Lydia walked at Cameron’s side toward the exit. He reached out to steady her when an incoming customer brushed rather roughly against her.

  “Jerk,” he muttered beneath his breath, glaring after the ru
de patron. “You okay, Lydia?”

  She nodded. “He just bumped my arm.”

  Cameron ushered her out the door, his hand still casually resting at her waist as he talked. “Listen, if you don’t have time to get to this stuff tonight, feel free to take another day, okay? I told the lawyer I’d get back to him by the end of the week, so we’ve got—”

  He suddenly stopped talking as they stepped out into the cool, mid-March evening.

  Lydia had been looking up at Cameron while he talked. When he went silent, she followed his gaze to see what had captured his attention so abruptly. And then she swallowed.

  Scott Pearson stood in front of her, looking with a frown at Cameron’s hand, which still lay against Lydia’s waist. Scott didn’t look at all happy to see them, Lydia couldn’t help noticing. In fact, he looked downright displeased.

  Cameron spoke first, breaking the brief, tense silence. “Hey, Scott. We were just talking about you. How’s it going?”

  “Fine.” Scott lifted his gaze to Lydia’s face. “How was your convention?”

  Shifting subtly away from Cameron to break the contact between them, she nodded. “It was very interesting.”

  “I see. So…you’ve been consulting for Cameron today?”

  “She’s very generously helping me with a story I’m researching,” Cameron explained.

  “Lydia’s always very generous with her expertise. It’s her time that’s usually limited.”

  “I was lucky enough to catch her when she had an hour to spare.”

  “Yes, you were lucky, weren’t you?”

  Lydia didn’t care for the way the two friends were eyeing each other and talking about her as if she weren’t there. She cleared her throat. “Are you meeting your sister for dinner, Scott?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  She nodded in the direction behind him. “I see her coming this way from the parking lot.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he greeted his sister. “Heather. Look who I’ve found.”