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First Impressions (Edenton 1)

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She nodded. “But I can’t—”

“I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I sense that something is wrong. Ever since the first time I met him in the hospital, I’ve thought that there was something not right about him.”

“That’s just what he says about you.”

“Does he? Well, at least I don’t sneak around women’s houses with a flashlight and try to make people think I was looking for a circuit box.”

Eden stopped walking and looked at him in astonishment.

“Yeah, I knew,” Brad said. “And I think the sheriff knew too, but he said he believed McBride. I played along with him. I was hoping that you’d come to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”

“I really can’t.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll find out. I’m a lawyer, remember? I always find out the truth. And I keep to myself what I find out. I could tell you some truly ugly secrets about people in this town.”

Eden lifted her head. “Such as?”

“Any secrets I tell you, you’re going to have to kiss out of me.”

“No, no, not that! Anything but that!”

Brad laughed, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but she looked up and there was McBride coming across the street, and he looked furious.

“Tonight,” Brad whispered. “I’ll be there at seven with wine, flowers, and chocolate cake. The rest is up to you.”

He pulled his arm from around her and went forward to meet Jared McBride.

Chapter Fourteen

AS soon as Eden said good-bye to Brad at the Queen Anne clubhouse, she felt a sense of panic. She was to cook a meal for a man who maybe, possibly, might become part of her life. What was she to cook? Words from Mrs. Farrington came back to her. “Honey, don’t ever try to impress a man with your cooking, especially one you want to marry. If you spend all day in the kitchen making him the first meal you serve him, he’ll expect you to spend exactly the same amount of time on every meal you cook for him.”

As she got into the car with Jared behind the wheel, she put her hands to her temples. What would taste great but was easy to prepare? She didn’t want it to seem that she was trying too hard. “I need to go to a grocery,” she said, and Jared turned left.

“So what were you and Granville talking about while I was taking pictures?” he asked.

“We were exchanging spy information,” she said as he pulled into the parking lot of the Food Lion. “Wait for me here while I get—”

She cut off as he got out of the car to go with her. Inside, he followed her around in silence, watching everyone who got near them while Eden shopped.

When they got home, Eden went to the kitchen to begin to cook. Her face looked as though she was trying to pass an exam that would get her into college.

“Mind if I…?” He motioned to her telephone, and she knew he was asking if he could check her messages. That he knew her PIN number didn’t surprise her at all. He pushed buttons, listened, then hung up.

“Minnie?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows in a way that made him look a bit like a trapped animal. “Four calls.”

Eden waited a moment to see if he was going to call Minnie back, but he didn’t. He sat on a stool on the far side of the Vermont soap-stone-topped island and watched her moving from stove to sink to counter to refrigerator and tried to lighten the mood. “You’ve never cooked for me like that,” he said in a false whine.

“I’m not trying to win your heart. Here, you can chop the onions,” she said as she pushed a cutting board, a knife, and a big Vidalia onion toward him.

“You know, don’t you, that there’s been research done on this. Women complain that men never help them in the kitchen, but studies have found that women always dump the most odious jobs on men when they do try to help. It makes men stop offering to help.”

She didn’t look up from the pot simmering on the stove. “And who says our tax dollars are unwisely spent?”

Jared gave a little smile as he started chopping an onion.

At exactly seven, Brad showed up at the screen door in the front, yellow and white daisies and mums in one arm, two bottles of white wine in the other, and a chocolate cake in a box at his feet.



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