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.
Chapter Two
Scott glanced at his watch as he approached Lydia’s door. He was pleased to note that he was right on time. He suspected that she was a woman who would appreciate punctuality.
Remembering the way Heather had grilled him when he’d told her he was bringing a date for the evening, he smiled. She’d been openly skeptical that he had chosen someone of whom she would approve. “Promise me you aren’t bringing a stripper or a bimbo just to embarrass me,” she had demanded.
“Would I do that?” he had asked in exasperation. And then had quickly added, “Don’t answer.”
He defied her to find anything to criticize about Lydia McKinley. A scientist, a teacher, a doctoral candidate. A capable, intelligent, quietly attractive woman anyone would be proud to call a friend. Heather would probably decide they were perfect for each other and embarrass them both with a bunch of subtle-as-a-sledgehammer hints. But at least she would get off his back about the women she wanted to introduce him to. Maybe he could stop worrying for a while about when she would blindside him with the next fix-up.
Prepared for a pleasant and undemanding evening, he smiled as Lydia’s door opened. His smile froze when he saw her.
She looked…stunning. From head to toe. Her up-swept brown hair bared the graceful sweep of her neck. A couple of soft tendrils lay against her temples, adding a touch of feminine romanticism to the style. She wore a bit more makeup than usual, highlighting her intriguingly slanted blue eyes and high cheekbones. Her shiny lip gloss made him realize for the first time just how full and sensual her lower lip was.
And the dress…
The way the midnight-blue garment molded to her body made it very difficult for Scott to keep his attention on her face. It wasn’t an overtly sexy dress, but the effect was still powerful. Deceptively conservative, the dress clung to her curves and revealed only glimpses of skin through long, nearly sheer sleeves and a slit at one side of the skirt.
He’d always thought that Lydia McKinley had great legs. Now he realized they were spectacular. Her strappy heels made them look even longer and shapelier than he’d noted before.
He cleared his throat. “You look…lovely,” he said, aware of what an understatement that was.
“Thank you.” It was obvious from the flush of color on her cheeks that Lydia wasn’t completely comfortable with the situation. “You look very nice, too.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’d rather have on jeans and a T-shirt than evening clothes,” he confessed.
A little of the tension eased from her face. “And I’d be much more comfortable in my work clothes,” she agreed.
He chuckled. “So we’ll be uncomfortable together. But we’ll look good.” He remembered only then that he’d brought something for her. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, extending the hand that held a bouquet of deep coral roses. He’d chosen the nontraditional color because he decided the gesture would seem less sentimental than the usual red roses, but he’d thought the occasion merited some acknowledgment. No matter how disdainfully she’d spoken of Valentine’s Day, he knew most women liked it when men acknowledged the date in some way.
Her eyes widened as she accepted the roses from him. “You certainly didn’t have to do this—but they’re beautiful.” As if she couldn’t resist, she buried her nose in them, inhaling deeply. “I love the scent of roses,” she murmured.
For some reason, he found himself forced to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Maybe you’d like to put them in water before we go?”
“Yes. Of course. Come in. I’ll be right back.”
He needed a little distance from her for a few moments, he found himself thinking as he entered her apartment for the first time. He’d become a bit too aware of how gracefully she moved in her clingy gown. How pretty she looked with her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining and her mouth so soft and shiny…
All in all, it was a good thing they had made it clear from the beginning that they were only interested in being friends.
To distract himself from thoughts of how good she looked, he studied her living room, discreetly looking for more clues about what Lydia McKinley was really like. Her furnishings seemed to have been chosen for practicality—solid colors, sturdy fabrics, classic styles. She seemed to have a fondness for brightly patterned tapestry pillows, which brightened the room considerably, as did the boldly original paintings gracing her walls. Her sister’s? he wondered, remembering that she’d mentioned Larissa was an artist. If so, Larissa was very good.
Lydia came back in carrying a glass vase in which she had hastily arranged the coral roses. She set it on the coffee table, stepping back to admire the effect for a moment. “They really are lovely, Scott. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Would you like a drink or something before we go?”
He shook his head, thinking that if he settled comfortably with her here, he wouldn’t want to leave at all. He would much rather spend the evening getting to know pretty Lydia McKinley than mingling with the crowd that would surely be at the charity dance. Especially since they’d made it clear that they could be friends without a lot of complications, he reminded himself. “We’d better be going.”
She sighed lightly and reached for her purse. “I suppose you’re right. The sooner we leave, the sooner this will be over.”
Hardly the most flattering statement he could have heard at the beginning of a date, Scott thought with a slight wince.