The Swinging R Ranch. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
all couples at the ranch—even Cameron said he would probably bring someone. It’ll be casual and comfortable and fun—a perfect time for you to spend an evening getting to know Julie. I can—”
“No, Heather. If I choose to bring someone to Shane’s gathering next weekend, I’ll find my own companion.”
“You can be so stubborn,” Heather grumbled, a pout in her voice.
“And you are being deliberately irritating. I’ve told you I don’t want you to play matchmaker for me, and you haven’t listened. I’m serious this time, Heather. I’m tired of it. I want it to stop.”
“But—”
“No argument,” he said flatly, swinging his legs to the side of the bed. “At first it was sort of funny watching you running around in circles trying to find me a girlfriend. I’m used to your occasional harebrained obsessions, but this one’s gone far enough. It ends now, okay? No more fix-ups. No more ‘accidental’ meetings. No more ambushes. No more begging me to go on blind dates with your friends.”
“I was only—”
“I know you meant well,” he said more gently. “You and Steve are deliriously happy and you want me to share your good fortune. I appreciate it, but I’m perfectly content concentrating on my work right now. You’ve got a wedding to plan—yours, not mine—and a future to anticipate. Focus on that for now and let me worry about my life, will you?”
“If that’s what you want,” she muttered.
“Trust me, it is.”
“All right. Fine. I won’t interfere again.”
The promise was made stiffly, letting him know that she was a bit miffed with him. He could deal with that as long as he could be assured that she would stop trying to marry him off.
“So, did you and Steve have a good time last night?” he asked, keeping his tone light and encouraging.
“We had a wonderful time,” she answered, still rather subdued.
“Did you get the painting you bid on?”
“Yes, we did.” Her usual enthusiasm slowly returning, she added, “It’s really gorgeous. It was painted by an artist who uses only her first name—Larissa. I had a chance to speak with her very briefly during the event and she’s really interesting. She’s—”
“Lydia’s sister,” Scott inserted. “Larissa McKinley.”
There was a brief pause, and then Heather said bluntly, “No way.”
“It’s true. We spent some time with Larissa and her companion, Charlie.”
“Larissa and Lydia are sisters? Biological sisters?”
“As far as I know. Lydia acknowledges that they are very different, but they seem to be close for the most part.”
“I never would have guessed. They really are so very different….”
Scott had the impression that Heather was mentally comparing the sisters and finding Lydia lacking. For some reason, that annoyed him. Heather hadn’t really given Lydia much of a chance; they’d had the occasion to speak only two or three times during the busy evening. He was sure Heather would like Lydia if she got to know her better.
It only bothered him so badly because it seemed unfair to Lydia for Heather to form such an erroneous snap judgment, he told himself.
He changed the subject before it could get stiff and awkward again, but he continued to be plagued by Heather’s attitude about Lydia.
Chapter Three
“Okay, your lawyer was gorgeous,” Larissa acknowledged late Saturday afternoon. “But I still think you should meet Charlie’s friend, Gary. I really think he’s more your type.”
Holding the cordless phone on her shoulder while she rummaged in her refrigerator for a snack, Lydia frowned. “Are you saying you didn’t like Scott?”
“Oh, I liked him. I’m just not sure he’s right for you.”
Plucking an apple from the crisper, Lydia closed the refrigerator door and leaned against the counter. “Not that I have plans to run off and marry him or anything, but why do you think he’s wrong for me?”
“I don’t know, exactly. He’s just too…polished. A little too slick and lawyerish. I’m afraid you could be hurt by someone like that, Lyddie.”
Lydia sighed. “That’s hardly fair. Just because you have a silly bias against attorneys—”
“And politicians, corporate types and stuffy academics,” Larissa added without hesitation. “It isn’t just lawyers, even though our father should have taught you a lesson about them.”
Ignoring the pointed reference to their late lawyer father, Lydia continued, “Scott’s really very nice. You shouldn’t judge him—or anyone—by his profession. Not everyone can be an artist or poet or musician.”
“Charlie’s friend isn’t any of those things,” Larissa was quick to point out. “He owns an alternative bookstore—New Age, occult, that sort of thing. He’s very sweet and gentle and deep thinking. Much more your type than that glossy, pretty lawyer.”
Lydia set down her apple with enough force to bruise the skin. “You’re really being very offensive about Scott.”
“Okay, he’s terrific. But so’s Gary. And I think, in the long run, Gary’s more your style.”
It was all Lydia could do not to growl. Larissa was actually criticizing Scott because he was too handsome, charming and successful! She was hardly flattered by her sister’s doubts that such a man could be genuinely interested in her.
“Don’t get me wrong, Lyddie,” Larissa said, apparently finally realizing that her sister was annoyed. “As I said, Scott seemed nice enough. He’d probably be just the guy for a woman interested in a hot, brief, teeth-rattling fling. But since that’s hardly your sort of thing—”
“Hardly.”
“—he’s probably wrong for you,” Larissa concluded evenly. “Gary, on the other hand, is much more suitable. He’s admitted that he’s looking for someone to settle down with—”
“Which I’m not.”
Continuing to ignore Lydia’s interruptions, Larissa went on, “And he shares your passion for classic theater. He never misses a local performance of Shakespeare or any of those old plays you always enjoy.”
“So find him someone else who enjoys theater. I have no interest in meeting him.”
“Just give him a chance, will you? Charlie and I are thinking about throwing a party to show off our new apartment. It would be a good opportunity for you to meet Gary and—”
“Not interested,” Lydia repeated firmly. “I would be delighted to attend your party, of course, but I would like to reserve the right to bring my own escort—or come alone without fear of being harassed by your matchmaking once I get there.”
“You’d bring Scott?” Larissa asked in blatant disapproval.
“Maybe. Or someone else I choose to ask.” Not that she actually knew anyone else at the moment she’d want to invite to a party, she thought. She had plenty of male friends and knew that there were one or two who would like to spend more time with her, but she just didn’t have the time or inclination to get involved in anything right now. She was much too busy with her career pursuits and didn’t want to risk sending mixed signals about her feelings.
That was what had been so easy about her date with Scott yesterday, she mused. There’d been no false expectations on either side. She had been free to enjoy his company, admire his undeniable attributes—even