The Doctor's Perfect Match. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ to respond, he descended the porch steps and strode toward Edith’s house, where he’d left his car.

      As he set his bag on the backseat, he glanced toward The Devon Rose. The door was closed, but he detected a movement behind the lace curtain that screened the drawing room from the scrutiny of passersby. Had Marci been watching him?

      The possibility pleased him—for reasons he didn’t care to examine.

      Sliding into the driver’s seat, he sent a quick look toward Edith’s house. And noticed the same phenomenon: a movement behind the sheer curtains at her living-room window. Had the older woman been observing him, too?

      Considering the gleam he’d noticed earlier in her eyes, that notion didn’t please him. On the contrary, it made him uncomfortable.

      Edith Shaw was gaining a reputation as a matchmaker, thanks to her part in pairing two couples in the past two years. And he did not want to be her next victim.

      Even if she had her sights set on a match as lovely as Marci Clay.

      Chapter Two

      “The Devon Rose.”

      “Marci? It’s J.C.”

      “J.C.!” Setting aside a measuring cup, Marci tucked the phone closer to her ear and gave her brother her full attention. “How’s Paris?”

      “Romantic.”

      She grinned. “I’ll bet. And how’s Heather?”

      “Happy. Gorgeous. Irresistible.”

      A female giggle sounded in the background, followed by a chuckle from J.C. Marci smiled. It was good to hear her big brother sounding lighthearted. He’d had more than enough worry to last a lifetime.

      “Tell her I said hi.”

      “Will do. How’s everything going?”

      “Good. I’m whipping up a batch of scones from her recipe as we speak.”

      No way did Marci intend to tell them she’d been sick. They deserved a carefree honeymoon. Besides, the penicillin had vanquished the strep throat in less than forty-eight hours. While she hadn’t yet regained full strength, Christopher Morgan’s prediction that she’d be back on the job by Thursday appeared to be coming true. She’d let Edith and Julie handle the tearoom today, but now that the last of their Wednesday guests had departed, she felt well enough to do a little baking.

      “I told Heather you’d breeze through. But you know how to reach us if you need us.”

      “Your itinerary and contact numbers are taped to the fridge. I check them every morning so I can live your European tour vicariously. That’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to the real thing.” She tried for a teasing tone, but couldn’t quite pull it off. The truth of the statement was too depressing.

      “Hey, your turn will come.”

      She tried again to lighten her tone. “Anything is possible, right?”

      “With God.”

      At his quiet response, she stopped pretending. Looking out the window, she watched a bird take flight and aim for the sky. “He and I aren’t well-acquainted.”

      “You could be.”

      “You never give up, do you?”

      “No. And look how my persistence paid off with Nathan.”

      “That was different. Trust me. I’m a lost cause.” The swinging door from the dining room opened as Edith bustled through with a tray, and Marci used that as an excuse to change the subject. “Look, we’re in cleanup mode here, so I need to get back to work. Besides, I’m sure you have better things to do on your honeymoon than talk to your sister.”

      Is that J.C.? Edith mouthed, her eyes lighting up.

      Heather nodded.

      “Tell him I said hi,” she whispered. “Heather, too.”

      “Edith says hi to you both.”

      J.C. chuckled. “I’ll pass that on. Call us if you need us.”

      “I will. Don’t worry about anything here. You just have fun.”

      “We intend to. Talk to you soon.”

      As the line went dead, Marci set the portable phone back in its holder on the counter and picked up the measuring cup.

      Edith planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t I get a report?”

      “I didn’t ask for details.” Marci filled the cup with flour and leveled it off. “But I got the impression they’re enjoying themselves. And J.C. sounds happy.”

      The older woman’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Excellent. I knew those two were meant for each other from day one. But getting them to see that took a bit of work.”

      From Heather, Marci had heard all about Edith’s penchant for matchmaking. Although The Devon Rose proprietress claimed her neighbor’s efforts hadn’t had that much impact on her relationship with J.C., it was obvious Edith felt otherwise. Why disillusion her?

      “All I know is I’m grateful their paths crossed. I’d given up on J.C. ever finding a wife.”

      “It was just a matter of meeting the right woman. Or, in Heather’s case, the right man.” Edith began empting the tray. “And speaking of men…is there some handsome man pining away for you back in Chicago?”

      Only if you counted Ronnie at the diner, Marci thought as she dumped the flour into a mixing bowl. And by no stretch of the imagination could the fifty-something cook with the receding hairline and prominent paunch be called handsome.

      “No. Men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

      Edith shot her a startled glance. “Goodness. That’s exactly what Heather used to say. Until J.C. came along, that is.” The older woman picked up the empty tray and headed back toward the dining room, pausing on the threshold. “By the way, I saw Christopher Morgan at a meeting at church last night. He asked how you were doing. He’s single, you know.”

      With a wink, Edith pushed through the swinging door and disappeared.

      Flummoxed by both the comment and the unexpected little tingle that raced up her spine, Marci stared after her. Was Edith hinting that the doctor was interested in her? That the two of them…

      No. She cut off that line of thought. It was preposterous. They knew nothing about each other. Meaning that if the man was interested in her, it was for the wrong reasons. And hormones were no basis for a relationship. She’d been there, done that. Repeating the experience held no appeal.

      Yet…she did owe him a thank-you for his visit on Monday. Without his intervention, she’d probably still be out of commission. Somehow a note didn’t seem sufficient. Perhaps she could offer a small token of appreciation?

      As СКАЧАТЬ