Desire by Design (3 page)

Chapter Three

“Why do I need an escort for your fundraiser?”

Matt cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear and stood splay-legged at the large window in his hotel room. He’d turned down his uncle’s invitation to stay at his house. Uncle Bob was an extrovert who liked to entertain, while Matt preferred peace and quiet. A hotel was definitely the best option.

“You aren’t the one in need of an escort,” his uncle said over the clatter of caterers Matt could hear working in the background. “I doubt if Eve wants to come so much as her boss wants her here, and Connor Sullivan’s kind of old-school. He doesn’t think a woman should show up at these things unescorted. I told him you’d be happy to bring her.”

His uncle paused, waiting for some response, but Matt said nothing. It had been three days since he’d introduced himself to the pretty little project manager, and as yet she’d made no effort to contact him so they could sit down and talk. That might be because she was the draftsman who’d done the preliminary designs—an important detail he’d found out too late, after he’d already put his big foot in his mouth. What was it he’d said?

City Council has decided they want to hire a professional.

He was well aware of how condescending he must have sounded, and when he looked back, he should have noticed that she’d been insulted. She’d gotten very distant and then made no secret of the fact she couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

It was never nice to be set aside in favor of someone with higher qualifications, and while he did have his professional brand to consider, he hadn’t intended to come across as that guy who bought into his own fame and fortune and dismissed any input from others.

Or he might have come on a little too strong after she’d made it plain she wasn’t interested. But he’d been intrigued, and possibly challenged, by her complete lack of interest, both in his work and in him.

Somehow, he didn’t think she’d find an arranged date with him a whole lot of fun.

“Come on, Mattie,” his uncle wheedled. “I’m not asking you to marry her. Just spend a few hours with her. It won’t kill you. Besides, you both have common interests. You’ll be working together. And I bet she looks half decent in a dress.”

Matt had no doubt she would, but he had other reservations regarding the pint-sized woman with the hot-chocolate eyes and tempting lips. Being asked at the last minute to escort her to a fundraising reception at his uncle’s home did nothing to ease them. Maybe it was because his uncle was trying too hard to sound casual. That usually meant he was up to no good.

Matt stared out at the city lights sparkling across the black waters of the harbor. Several moored ships glowed against the dusky skyline, their masts decked out like great, white Christmas trees for the hordes of tourists swarming the waterfront.

“I have work to do,” he told his uncle. “Just because I’m not in my office doesn’t mean I can let things pile up.” A thought landed and took root. “You aren’t trying to hook us up, are you?”

“You and
Eve
? Don’t even joke about such a thing. I’m not getting any younger, and my heart won’t take it.” His uncle sounded so entertained by the idea that Matt’s suspicions were eased. Whatever his uncle was up to, matchmaking wasn’t it. “But I need you here tonight, and it won’t hurt to make Connor happy.” Uncle Bob lowered his voice, as if about to convey a big secret he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

A reluctant grin tugged at Matt’s lips. Oh yeah. Those caterers were probably dying to find out what his uncle’s current scheme was. And he knew his uncle. There had to be one.

“There are a few councilors I want you to talk to,” Bob admitted. “They aren’t convinced yet about the need for design changes, and I’m hoping you can sway them.”

So that was what his uncle was up to. Matt relaxed. Business, he could understand. And family loyalty. Uncle Bob might not be keeping score but Matt was, and Matt owed him for all the years he’d tried his best to fill in as a father. If Uncle Bob wanted a modern City Hall, then that was what he’d get. Matt could impress a few councilors.

It was the unimpressed project manager he seemed to be having the difficulty with. He wondered what her type was. And why he wasn’t it.

Maybe he’d find out at the fundraiser. He might even get a chance to make amends.

“Okay,” he said, feeling more enthusiastic than he had a few minutes ago. “What time should I be there?”

“Eve will pick you up around eight.”

Matt disconnected and tossed his phone into a padded armchair, then rubbed his stubbly chin. He glanced at his watch. Plenty of time for a shower and shave.

…

Eve hopped around her bedroom on one foot, trying to stuff the other into an uncooperative pair of pantyhose while cursing the man who’d invented them. Then, she cursed men in general.

I forgive you, Eve
, Claude, her ex-husband, had said.

Even after three days, her anger over that statement hadn’t burned itself out. It seemed they had vastly different recollections as to why their two-week marriage had ended, and she didn’t feel quite as forgiving about them as Claude. Maybe she should have said so before blowing that rape whistle in his ear.

To call her five years later to tell her he forgave her for some figment of his imagination was only one example of his unfortunate tendency to fixate.

For what felt like the millionth time, she wondered what it was that had attracted her to him in the first place. Flattery, she supposed. He’d been a marine biologist with a PhD who traveled all over the world, and had been working on a research project in the Bay of Fundy, near her small Acadian hometown, the summer they’d met. Handsome and brilliant, he’d treated her like the sun rose and set for her pleasure alone. He was handsome, too, in a bookish, nerdy kind of way. The attention had been overwhelming for a girl who’d seen nothing of the world and never gotten more than a drafting diploma from the local community college.

His teasing about that education should have served as her first warning. It hadn’t taken her two days after the wedding to realize the magnitude of her mistake. Claude’s adoration turned to obsession in the blink of an eye. He’d trashed their apartment because he hadn’t liked her talking to an old boyfriend from high school. He’d called her stupid on several occasions, and she’d almost begun to believe it. After all, she’d made the mistake of marrying him.

But when he said they were going to spend the next few years on an isolated island in the Pacific doing marine research, and had given her only a few days to prepare, Eve dragged herself out of denial and finally balked. He’d actually raised a hand to hit her, violent anger burning in his eyes, and that was the end, as far as she was concerned. An older brother had taught her how to defend herself, and she’d laid Claude out flat, breaking his nose and blackening both of his eyes, then packed her bags and moved home.

When faced with a choice between leaving for the Pacific and pursuing her, Claude had chosen to leave—as she’d expected him to, despite his possessive tendencies. She’d shown herself to not be his puppet anymore.

All she told her family was that she wasn’t about to live on a deserted island that had no electricity or modern medical care. She hadn’t said a word about Claude; Eve had her pride.

Once she was sure Claude was out of the country, she’d moved to Halifax and talked her way into the construction business. She’d started off with only private clients before hiring on with Sullivan Construction and scraping her way up the ladder to project manager. She’d worked long and hard to get where she was.

And now, Claude was back. She’d never really known him, she now understood. She had no idea if he’d try to contact her again, or what his motives were for doing so in the first place. He’d signed the divorce papers years ago, and she’d assumed they were through. That rape whistle she’d blown in his ear should have been enough to convince him, the arrogant bastard.

She finished wriggling into her uncooperative pantyhose and zipped into her dress, checking the clock by her bed. She had to go pick up her “date” soon.

Eve smoothed her dress and stood up taller. If there was one important lesson she’d learned from the whole experience with Claude—and with her job—it was not to get involved with clever, ambitious, overly confident men. Not professionally, and definitely not personally. They were good at hiding their true natures behind a thin layer of charm.

And Matt Brison was charming.

He might be an architect, not a biologist, but brilliant was brilliant. The ego was there. The sense of self-entitlement. Deep down, on the level that mattered, he made Eve uneasy.

So why she’d agreed to accompany him to the fundraiser tonight she would never know, although it likely had a lot to do with her paycheck. If she wanted to remain on the City Hall project, Connor Sullivan had hinted, she’d better paste on a smile and pretend to be pleased.

She grabbed her shoes and her purse and sprinted down the stairs.

…

It was ten minutes past eight by the time she parked in the hotel’s gloomy, underground parking garage.

She examined her makeup in the rearview mirror one last time before climbing out of the car and hitching down the tight skirt of her black dress. She wished she’d had something more conservative to wear than a dress her brothers had given her as a joke for her twenty-ninth birthday. They said it was to help her catch a man before she became an old woman of thirty.

She’d rather catch a bad cold.

The dank smell of sweating cement and automobile fumes ambushed her as she tottered to the elevators. The sound of her high heels tapping on concrete echoed eerily throughout the empty parking garage. Eve tried not to think about the long shadows and dark corners created by the inadequate overhead lighting, and breathed a small sigh of relief when the elevator doors slid closed behind her.

There was no doubt about it. The phone call from Claude had left her nervous and on edge, and that just made her angrier. If she got to pick her next life, she was coming back as a man. A huge, hairy one.

The elevator doors hummed open. She stepped into the hotel lobby, crossed to the front desk, and asked the clerk to call Matt’s room to let him know his ride was waiting. She reminded herself she was a professional and to act like one, then caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and had an uneasy addendum to that thought.

Did this dress make her look like the wrong kind of professional?

Matt’s gaze wandered around the lobby, then lingered appreciatively on the mirrored reflection of a woman standing near one of the potted plants.

Recognition snagged his insides. It couldn’t be.

The thick mass of auburn hair was now twisted in a smooth knot and pinned at her crown. A light touch of makeup emphasized large eyes and long, dark lashes, and her plump lips demanded his attention. She wore a black dress that clung to her curves. The dress fit her perfectly, granted, but it showed a lot of leg—and she had great legs.

Matt’s mouth went dry. Somehow he doubted those high heels had steel toes.

She watched him approach with an air of hesitation about her that disarmed him even more.

She held out a hand to greet him. That handshake put them right back on a professional footing and reminded him she hadn’t planned the evening for his entertainment. This was business, not pleasure.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said.

“Not a problem,” he managed to reply, despite the wad of cotton coating his tongue. “You look very lovely.”

“Thank you.”

Tough audience. He might have been commenting on the weather for all the reaction the compliment got from her. He usually didn’t have to work this hard to give a woman a reason to like him.

Surely he could find some way to redeem himself for his poor first impression.

They walked together to the elevator, noticing again how very small she was in spite of her towering heels. And how much more reserved she seemed than she’d been on site. He thought maybe he preferred her in work boots. At least then he’d had something to say to her.

Although, up until now, he’d said all the wrong things. He wondered how he could lead up to an apology without coming off sounding like a condescending ass again.

He punched the button beside the gleaming, silver elevator doors. The doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

“Out of curiosity,” he said. “What kind of toys did you play with when you were a little girl?”

Her lovely eyes were puzzled as she glanced up at him through those thick lashes. The elevator gave a slight jerk, and Matt took her elbow to steady her, her skin surprisingly soft and smooth beneath his touch.

“The usual girl stuff, I guess. My mother had a thing about buying me dolls.” Eve’s button nose crinkled, and she looked amused—and maybe a little embarrassed. “But my favorite was a dump truck one of my brothers abandoned. Why?”

Matt felt a flash of relief. That sounded more like what he’d expected. And a great deal more interesting. “Just curious.”

He remembered to release her elbow, then didn’t know what to do with his hand so he stuck it in his pocket. When they reached the parking level, he followed her to her car.

He frowned as he looked around the deserted garage. “You shouldn’t park down here. It’s not safe.”

She reached into her glittery evening bag for the keys. “I grew up with three older brothers.” She pressed a button and unlocked the doors. “I can take care of myself.”

Matt waited until she’d slid into the driver’s side before getting in himself, then turned to face her, propping his elbow on the back of the seat. “Having three brothers isn’t much help if you’re alone when you’re mugged.” Or worse.

She inserted the key in the ignition, and the engine turned over as she gave a little shrug. “It is when one of them teaches self-defense courses and makes you practice.”

She backed the car out of the parking space with the skill of a stock-car racer, then, with a heavy foot on the gas, shot out of the garage and into the street.

Matt yanked the seatbelt across his chest and hips and clicked it into place. He ran his fingertips over the dash. “Does this car have a passenger-side air bag?”