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.
As Quinn led his partner onto the dance floor, he smiled. He’d made Diana happy, and damn if that didn’t make him feel dangerously close to happy, too.
* * *
“Becky is a very nice person.”
Diana waited for a reply, but Quinn’s elegant friend barely made a polite noise of agreement.
Diana tried again. “Have you known each other long?”
Patricia Cargill, the woman who could be a match for Quinn, speared her with one direct look. “Long enough.”
Not for Quinn.
Oh, Quinn could handle her, of that Diana had no doubt. In fact, Patricia needed a strong man like Quinn, someone she couldn’t bully and intimidate. But Diana didn’t want Quinn to have to spend his whole life shaping another woman’s personality into something it naturally wasn’t. Patricia reminded Diana too much of a striking but strong-headed Dalmatian they’d had a terrible time placing at the animal shelter. Eventually, a professional dog trainer had volunteered to work with families that expressed an interest in the dog, until they found one that could provide her the consistent discipline she needed without breaking her spirit.
I don’t want Quinn to have to work that hard.
Quinn MacDowell was a nice guy. Diana hadn’t even had to drop a hint, and Quinn had known right away that dancing with Becky would help make the ball beautiful for her.
Diana looked for her champagne glass, wanting a sip to privately toast Quinn, but the glasses were out of place.
“This one,” Patricia said, and slid a flute toward her.
Diana took a sip. It was warm. And flat.
It was not real champagne.
She didn’t like it. What a horrible realization, to know that forever more, she would not enjoy fake champagne. Quinn had introduced her to something better, and she couldn’t undo that experience. Every interaction with every person left its mark, of course, so spending time with Quinn had been bound to affect her, but still...
Look on the bright side. You only got spoiled for champagne.
It could have been worse. She could have danced with Quinn.
It was a lucky thing that Patricia’s arrival had saved her from having a taste of being Quinn’s date for the night. Diana had never danced with a handsome man who wore a tuxedo as if it were a regular part of his wardrobe. A man who laughed as he poured champagne at a glorious gala.
She wouldn’t miss what she’d never had.
Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. “Moonlight Serenade” had ended two songs earlier. Quinn was surrounded by friends, Becky was enjoying herself, and it was time for Diana to move on. Patricia would surely claim the next dance, and Karen looked like she was ready to talk business all night. Diana was feeling distinctly like the third wheel, now that Quinn was no longer a lone figure, brooding silently at a party.
Diana took another sip of the “domestic sparkling wine,” as Quinn had called it, determined to be satisfied.
Patricia watched her. Her words were civil and smooth, but every muscle in her elegant body was tense. “You must have friends who are wondering where you are. Perhaps you should go back to them.”
“I will,” Diana said, fighting fire with friendliness, always her best chance at success. “I’ll just say goodbye to Becky and Quinn and then I’ll be on my way.”
Patricia leveled a direct look on her, one that would have made many a puppy at the pound drop its gaze in submission. Diana kept smiling, anyway. Patricia looked away, toward the far side of the dance floor. “I see Quinn and Becky have joined a group of my friends. Karen, let me introduce you.” She was already in motion before she casually spoke to Diana. “Do excuse us.”
“Of course,” Diana said, her smile firmly in place. Easy girl, I’m not going to fight you for that bone. See how friendly I am? I’m just the buddy.
But the buddy could hardly stand to watch, so Diana scooped up her tiny purse and retreated to the mezzanine once more, but not before topping off her sparkling wine with a tiny bit of the real champagne.
* * *
The buzzing of his cell phone gave Quinn the perfect excuse to leave Becky with a few of the young med school students who’d spent a month interning in his cardiology practice.
He stepped away from the group as he pulled the cell phone from his pocket. The first digits of the phone number indicated that it came from one of the hospital lines.
“MacDowell,” he said, turning his back on the orchestra.
“Quinn, it’s Brian. Irene Caulsky passed away about twenty minutes ago. Thought you’d like to know.”
“An