The Bachelor Doctor's Bride. Caro Carson
Читать онлайн книгу.
for him as well as he could have himself. By every measurable criterion, the woman Diana had chosen, the woman in white who was so smoothly following his lead on the dance floor, was perfect for him.
Yet, something wasn’t quite right. He ought to be more interested in his dance partner. She pressed a little closer, causing her very well-supported, very expensively clad, very tastefully revealed cleavage to swell a bit against his chest.
He ought to be very interested, indeed.
But tonight, he was finding one thing utterly distracting: Diana herself. It was hard to focus on the woman in his arms when green fringe kept shimmying in his mind, shimmying its way over a curvy body that nearly crackled with energy.
To dance with her, to hold that woman in his arms, a woman so vibrant with her enthusiasm for life...
There was no hope for it. Diana had caught his attention completely, and no amount of cultured, educated, wealthy women that she threw his way could divert him.
Diana wasn’t his type. He’d probably never run into her again after tonight. They didn’t move in the same circles, despite her claim to be a business associate of his sister-in-law, Lana. After all, he was a business associate of Lana’s. Diana did not work at West Central, that much Quinn knew.
There were other businesses besides medicine, of course, but there was nothing businesslike about Diana’s behavior. She was too forward in her manner, too familiar in the way she spoke to a perfect stranger.
But she made him laugh. She poked and prodded him—literally—and he was certain that she had no idea that she was physically appealing in a way that was slowly sending him out of his mind. He’d spent the past half hour waiting for that green fringe to travel that last inch up her thighs.
Life had been all work and no play for too long. He was not going to let a curvaceous, vivacious woman with whiskey-colored hair slip through his fingers without a dance.
And if she refused to dance with him, but insisted he ask someone else of her choosing? Then Miss Diana Connor, the woman who seemed to think he had no idea how to pursue a woman, would find herself on the receiving end of all the charm Quinn MacDowell could muster.
He smiled.
The elegant woman in his arms thought it was meant for her.
Quinn changed directions in time to the music, a move designed to return his partner’s focus to her feet rather than the smile on his face. He glanced toward the chairs he and Diana had been sharing.
She was gone.
* * *
“Strike three.”
The deep voice caused Diana to stutter midstep. She whirled around, a quick pirouette in her smooth-soled sandals on the polished mezzanine floor. Quinn caught her elbow, stopping her so she squarely faced him. He stepped closer as he steadied her, so she found herself caught with just inches between a cold pillar at her back and a hot man at her front.
“Strike three?” she asked, leaning away from the pillar. Hot man in a tuxedo was infinitely preferable. Still, she was a bit baffled that he’d come to tell her his partner hadn’t worked out. She’d left him with a woman who fit him perfectly.
What was more, Quinn didn’t look very upset at striking out.
“What was the problem?” Diana asked.
“Let’s go back to our seats.” Quinn gestured toward the ballroom, and fell into place beside her. She half-expected him to offer her his arm in an old-fashioned way, but he didn’t. Without touching, they walked side by side along the row of pillars. They’d definitely become buddies, just as she’d predicted.
Okay, Quinn, spill your guts to your gal pal.
Diana gave him the opening she knew he needed. “You can’t tell me she wasn’t educated enough. I could tell she was terribly educated just by looking at her.”
“Terribly educated is right. She can’t see why the Nobel committee overlooked the contributions of two scientists I’ve never heard of who discovered some molecular entity I’ve never heard of. And I’m a doctor, mind you.”
Oh, he was most definitely a doctor. She knew this from the calendar, of course, but Quinn’s career explained so much about him. Diana did not envy doctors. They were too often grim, too often facing long odds in their line of work. Someone had to do it, of course. Someone had to pit their skills against illness and injury, but Diana was glad to leave the life-and-death work to others.
Diana was satisfied with her matchmaking calling. To bring in money, she matched people with homes. In her spare time, she matched people with dogs. And tonight, she’d taken it upon herself to match this doctor with a person who could help him lighten up.
“Here’s the bright side, Quinn,” she said, as she snagged a glass of champagne from one of the circulating waiters, “at least she knew how to say ‘molecular entity.’”
That drew another smile from him. Diana was pleased that he’d stopped being stingy with the smiles. She was good at this, helping people enjoy themselves. In any group, Diana was the one who bubbled and chatted and smoothed over any awkwardness.
Sometimes, she wondered what would happen if she stopped. If she let herself have a bad day, if she groused at a neighbor or frowned at a stranger, was there another Diana out there who would try to cheer her up? If she wore a plain black dress and sat alone in a corner, would anyone notice she existed?
Diana never intended to find out. She’d continue making people happy, and they’d continue to include her in their world, the way Quinn was including her in his. One of her mother’s best pieces of advice had been to follow the Scout philosophy of leaving the world a better place than you found it. Diana had taken that to heart, and always tried to leave people happier than she found them.
She returned his smile brightly. “We’ll keep looking until we find the right one for you tonight.”
Diana turned in a slow circle, eyeing the crowd over the rim of her champagne flute, gauging all the eligible women, taking in at a glance how they dressed, how they held themselves, how they smiled—or didn’t. How they might match with Quinn.
“How about the girl in the red dress?”
“She’s not very pretty. If we’re going for someone like Lana, she’d have to be quite attractive.”
“I’d tell you to get over the physical looks, but chemistry is everything. When you take the right woman in your arms tonight, you’ll know. Since she’ll be getting James Bond, it’s only fair that she be a knockout, too.”
“James Bond?”
“Ooh—I see a good one. At your six. Turn around casually.”
“I haven’t experienced this level of espionage since high school.”
In his deadpan way, he was cracking jokes. Really, he was quite charming. Diana found herself laughing with him because she liked his sense of humor, no longer because she wanted him to follow her lead and lighten up. He was more of a serious person than she was, sure, but that gruff demeanor had softened into something more genuine. Maybe her mission had been accomplished despite his lack of a dancing partner.
Diana handed him her champagne flute. “Here, you need a drink after making small talk with strangers for the past three songs.”
He took a sip. “It’s warm.”
“It’s free. It’s all included in this wonderful party. You’ve got to remember to look at the bright side of things.”
The expression on his face changed just a tiny bit. Less critical, more thoughtful. “You’re right, of course. Excuse me for a moment. Don’t disappear.” He left—with her champagne glass.
Diana entertained herself by awarding imaginary scores for the best gowns. When she spotted one young woman nervously tugging up her strapless dress