“Scott said you work in advertising?”
“Yes. I’m an account executive for O’Brien, Simmons and Stern. Have you and Scott known each other long?” Heather was obviously more interested in finding out about her brother’s companion than talking about herself for the moment.
Scott sighed heavily before Lydia could answer. “Let’s go look at the auction offerings, Lydia. That should be more fun than standing here being cross-examined by my nosy sister.” Again, there was more affection than irritation in his voice.
Heather frowned at him. “I wasn’t being rude. I was just curious.”
“Maybe we should go dance, Heather,” her fiancé suggested quickly.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you two later,” Heather called over her shoulder as he pulled her away. “I’d love to have a chance to sit down and get to know you better, Lydia, when we…”
Steve pulled her into the crowd still talking.
Scott chuckled. “I’m not sure if that was a promise or a warning.”
“She seemed very pleasant,” Lydia assured him, though she had a funny sense that Heather hadn’t actually approved of her at first impression.
Scott slid an arm casually around her shoulders. “She’s a nut. I love her, but I’ve got to be honest—she’ll grill you to distraction if you let her. My sister is unabashedly nosy.”
A bit flustered by the feel of his arm around her, Lydia started to reply, but then paused when she saw Larissa and Charlie making their way toward her. Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at Scott. “You think your sister is scary? Wait until you meet mine,” she murmured, then turned with a forced smile. “Hello, Larissa.”
Her dyed-red hair piled in an artfully messy cascade on top of her head, Larissa wore the skimpy crimson dress she had tried to talk Lydia into buying. It fit as revealingly as Lydia had imagined, barely covering Larissa’s full breasts, dipping in to show off her small waist, then fitting like a second skin against her slender hips and thighs. The skirt was cut away on the left side to show her leg from hip to ankle. On Larissa, the daring gown looked arty and trendy and chic. On someone else it might have just looked tacky, Lydia mused with a ripple of admiration for her sister’s undeniable sense of style.
She would never have had the nerve to wear it in public herself.
Leaning forward to accept her sister’s smacking air kiss, Lydia murmured, “You look fabulous.”
“Thanks. So do you. Have you seen my paintings yet?”
“No, we just arrived. We haven’t had a chance to examine everything yet.” Lydia smiled at the thin, ponytailed man in a long, straight evening jacket who stood just behind Larissa. “Hello, Charlie.”
Her sister’s latest conquest smiled broadly, stretching the triangular “soul patch” of sandy whiskers sprouting beneath his lower lip, the only hair he wore on his angular face. “Hey, Prof. How’s it going?”
“Fine, thank you.” She half turned toward Scott. “Larissa and Charlie, this is my friend, Scott Pearson.”
Scott flashed Larissa one of his winning smiles. “I see beauty runs in the McKinley family.”
“Oh, that is so corny,” Larissa groaned. Then smiled and reached up to pat his dimpled cheek with one scarlet-nailed hand. “Tell me more.”
Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Lydia told me a couple of your paintings are on exhibit here tonight for the charity auction.”
“Yes. You’ll have to tell me what you think of them. But only if what you think is positive. I don’t take criticism well.”
Scott laughed. “I’ll be sure and say only nice things, then. But from the paintings I’ve seen in Lydia’s apartment, I’m sure I’ll like them. You’re very talented.”
“So you’ve been in Lydia’s apartment?” Larissa murmured, looking speculatively from him to her sister.
Lydia frowned at her. “Larissa…”
Larissa only laughed. “C’mon, Charlie, let’s go eavesdrop on the people standing around my paintings. And you can beat them up for me if they say anything unpleasant.”
“You keep forgetting I’m a pacifist,” Charlie complained, then added with a grin, “not to mention a coward.”
“You weren’t exaggerating, were you?” Scott murmured when Larissa and Charlie moved away.
“About Larissa? No.”
“The two of you really are very different.”
“Night and day,” Lydia agreed. “But we’ve always gotten along well enough despite those differences.”
Scott nodded. “Heather and I do, too, considering. But when we disagree, we do so passionately.”
Amused by the wording, she laughed softly. “Larissa does everything passionately.”
“I’d like to see her paintings.”
“I’m sure we can find them—somewhere,” she added, looking around the crowded ballroom lined with auction offerings on the outer edges.
He offered his arm. “Let’s snag some champagne and check everything out, shall we?”
The first thing Lydia did when she walked into her apartment much later that evening was kick off her shoes. She wiggled her toes in the plush carpet and gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s much better.”
From behind her, Scott gave a low laugh as he carried in a rather large cardboard box. “I take it your feet were hurting?”
“You wobble around in those tight, stiff, spike-heeled torture devices for six hours and see how your feet feel.”
“I’ll pass, thanks. A bow tie and cummerbund are bad enough. Where do you want your lamp?”
Reminded of the delicately pretty, Tiffany-style lamp she had purchased at the silent auction, she turned quickly. “Sorry. I was so anxious to get out of those shoes, I almost forgot about the lamp. Just set it on the table. I’ll find a place for it later.”
He deposited the heavy box carefully on the coffee table. “It’s a nice lamp. But heavy.”
“I thought it was lovely. And the money went to a good cause. As did the money you spent for your purchase.”
He patted his pocket in satisfaction. “Play-off tickets? Definitely a good cause for my money.”
“I meant the hospital wing is a good cause.”
Chuckling at her stern tone, he nodded. “That, too. Did you have a good time this evening?”
“Yes, very nice.” Surprisingly enough, she had. Scott had been a charming escort. He’d stayed close to her side, had seemed interested in her conversation, had made
