Prescription For Seduction. Darlene Scalera
of them.” Molly winked at the women.
“Is that what you young people are calling it nowadays?” Anna still smiled. “From the impression I got the other night, he seems bound and determined to keep his status as the last single Spencer brother.”
“The right girl hasn’t come along yet, that’s all.” Molly touched the corners of her mouth with one of the linen napkins Eden always had folded in a small basket. “And she’s obviously not here in Tyler because he knows every available girl in town and has dated over half of them.”
“He does get around, but I bet he ends up with someone not from Tyler. Someone like that city doctor he was seeing a while back. That’s the only relationship I think he’s had that has lasted longer than a date or two.”
Molly stirred her tea. “Maybe Jenna has some friends or cousins back in New York City? You can’t get much more big city than that.”
“Well, whoever she is and wherever she comes from, I’ll bet when the right girl comes along, Dr. Brady Spencer will fall like a sack of bricks.” Anna winked at Molly. “Just like his brothers.”
Eden stood, her chair scraping against the tiles. The other women looked at her. “I’ll get you both some more tea,” she offered.
“Goodness, no.” Molly glanced at her watch. “I’d love some, but it’s almost time to pick up the kids and we haven’t even looked at the flowers.” She slid the opened book toward Anna. “This is pretty, isn’t it?”
Eden carried her cup to the cart, straightened the china, lined up the silver spoons, waited for the roil of emotions within her to calm. She knew everything the women had said was the truth. Brady may not have found the right woman yet, but when he did, she would be sophisticated and dynamic, his equal in terms of experience, affluence and professional background. She wouldn’t be a twenty-seven-year-old virgin whose most serious relationship to date had been with a cat.
“I like this with all the baby’s breath and the Easter egg colors,” Eden heard Anna say behind her.
Not that anyone in Tyler would consider that the attractive, seductive Dr. Spencer would ever be interested in someone like her. Eden tucked in the corner of a napkin. Even she knew her fantasies were ludicrous, had told herself hundreds of times. Anna and Molly would be shocked if they even suspected she entertained such thoughts. Brady Spencer and Eden Frazier? Preposterous.
“We really only need a large centerpiece for the buffet table,” Anna said, “and a few smaller arrangements for the cake table. These cradle-looking baskets Eden showed us are nice.”
“Maybe some type of floral favors? What do you think, Eden?” Molly asked.
What did she think? At that particular moment she was thinking how just once she’d like to be thought of as more than good ol’ Eden, as constant and predictable as Timber Lake’s spring rising…and about half as exciting.
Chapter Three
“We’re friends, aren’t we, Eden?”
She went still, the cookies she’d been about to put with the others in the napkin-lined basket hovering. She knew the tone. She’d known it all her life. You’re a pal, Eden…a good kid…. I can talk to you as if you were one of the guys…. You’re like a sister to me.
She glanced behind her. Brady sat at the kitchen table. He looked tired tonight. She shouldn’t have kept him so long last night, plying him with cookies and cups of tea, but she had so loved sitting across from him, hearing his voice, watching his features change, seeing him smile.
He’d come late again tonight to order another arrangement. He’d also brought back her empty cookie tin. Even before he’d grumbled about having to share the contents with half the town, she’d already suspected he hoped she would fill the tin again. She’d opened it to do just that and found first aid supplies. She’d looked questioningly at him. “My moth—” He’d caught himself and began again. “We were taught never to return a container empty.”
She’d looked at the gauze pads, the tube of triple antibiotic ointment, the box of butterfly closures.
“It’s something you can always use. You never know when you might have an emergency.”
His voice had been so earnest and sincere, she’d had to smile. Who needed diamonds and Godiva chocolates when you had sterile gauze pads in a variety of sizes?
Now Brady waited for an answer to the question he’d just asked. Despite his fatigue, his green eyes didn’t miss their mark. She put the cookies in the basket. “I like to think of you as a friend, Brady.”
She saw his features relax, and her own worries grew. She’d thought she’d been careful. Had she, somehow, revealed to Brady how attracted she was to him? Had he sensed she dreamed of more, much more than friendship? Was he now attempting to let her down easy?
“And friends who bring you first aid…well, they’re rare.” She smiled at him, trying to postpone what she feared was inevitable. She knew the routine. She’d heard it before. I like you, Eden. I really do. You’re a great girl. It’s just that I don’t like you in that way. But we can still be friends, can’t we?
She brought the basket to the table. Brady’s face was pensive, weary. She’d take friendship. Except for her fantasies, she’d never expected more.
“You look beat tonight.”
He smiled, but even his eyes now had the unfocused look of someone who needed sleep. She picked up the basket. “Why don’t we sit in the living room? You’ll be more comfortable on the couch. We can have our cookies and tea in there at the coffee table.”
She led the way into the room painted soft apricot and cozy with plants and plump pillows. She cleared off the cedar chest that had been passed on to her by her parents when they’d retired and moved to Florida. She set the basket on the chest.
“I’ll just get some plates and napkins.”
“Let me help you.”
She shook her head. “You make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
He started to sit, but when she returned, he was standing across the room, looking at the painting that leaned against the wall.
“That’s not finished yet,” she said.
“You painted this?” He picked up the canvas, held it at arm’s length and examined its vibrant color splashes, its heavy black shapes, its strong assault on the senses.
“It’s a hobby.” She dismissed the work, embarrassed and self-conscious. She set down the plates and napkins. “I’ll bet you didn’t eat anything again today. Come have a cookie.” She tried to lure him away from the painting.
“I don’t know much about art—”
“Neither do I.”
He looked at her, his eyes once again intent. “You’ve had no formal training?”
“Some appreciation classes in college, but my major was horticulture, of course. Like I said, it’s just something I do.”
“Really?” Brady looked at the painting. “I like it.”
She sat in the rocking chair next to the sofa. “You do?”
He propped the canvas against the wall and stepped back, studying the painting. “I like it a lot.” He looked at her.
Perched on the chair’s seat, she felt as if he could see right through her. She touched her throat above her buttoned collar. The kettle on the stove whistled.
She jumped up, grateful to get away from Brady’s gaze. “Tea’s ready,” she sang out too loud. “Peppermint? Cinnamon apple?”
“Peppermint’s fine,” he answered,