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
