Desire by Design (5 page)

The question caught her off guard. Someone must have told him.

“That’s not what this is about,” she said.

“I think it is.” His fingers ceased their tapping. “There was nothing wrong with your design, Eve. It was good. But the truth is, the client wants something different.” He blew out a sigh. “We both know that the one with the final say on the new design will be the architect. That happens to be me. So, why don’t you tell me what your real objection to working with me is?”

He paused a beat. Heat entered his unwavering gaze. He edged closer, filling the small space she’d created between them.

“Because I’m starting to think that it’s personal.”

Chapter Four

He had hoped to get a chance to apologize to her this evening for dismissing her design. Instead, he’d ended up pointing out, once again, how his professional designation trumped hers.

But he did think this was personal, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Aside from that one little blunder, he’d been nothing but friendly. Maybe she was transferring her annoyance with his uncle—and yes, he knew Uncle Bob could be annoying—onto him.

Sounds from the gathering inside drifted around them in the moonlight as he waited for her reaction.

“I don’t even know you,” Eve said. “But I know your work. Even if the city does want to hire a
professional
, I think you have to agree that you’re the wrong one for this job.” She stood and smoothed silky fabric down over her slim hips. “Excuse me. I need another drink.”

“Not so fast.” Matt caught her hand before she could walk away. He, too, rose to his feet, then had to dip his head in order to see her face as she looked away. “This is a small project in an even smaller town. If it’s not personal, and we’re going to be working together for the next few months, then it might as well be on friendly terms. I still want to see your ideas.”

She eased her fingers from his grasp. “This might be a small project to you, but to me, it’s important. But don’t worry. You won’t need to do me any favors. I have my own reputation in this city. Small as it is.”

He had handled this badly. All her contradictions, and passion for her work, intrigued him. But he still thought there was more to her objection to him than a dislike for his work.

“I’m not doing you a favor,” he said. “I’m always open to ideas.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the opportunity. It’s very generous of you.”

The words were polite but hardly brimming with enthusiasm. Matt tried not to grin. At least she wasn’t going to be stroking his ego, which was kind of refreshing. Not to mention, challenging.

She turned to the patio doors, paused as if about to say something more, then peered through a crack in the sheer curtains.

“Oh, nuts. Here comes Connor’s wife, Lena,” she whispered. “The last time she caught me at one of these functions, I spent two hours listening to her talk about the horrors of breastfeeding and the agony of having an older husband who doesn’t pay enough attention to her. If you really want to do me a favor, tell her you haven’t seen me.”

With that, Eve climbed over one of the stone benches and ducked behind a low cedar hedge.

Matt’s mouth dropped open.

The glass doors slid back and an elegant, black-haired Latina woman stepped onto the flagstones. He vaguely recalled having been introduced to her at some point in time.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I thought I saw Eve come out here.”

There was a hint of a question to her fluid, heavily accented words that should have warned him, but Matt’s attention was focused elsewhere. His eyes darted to the bushes, unsure of the proper protocol for this type of scenario.

“Eve went to powder her nose,” he said, feeling like an idiot. Then his sense of humor took over. “But she should be back any moment. You’re welcome to wait with me if you’d like.”

The bushes behind him rustled at that. He was beginning to enjoy this—but just a little.

“I would like that very much.” Lena Sullivan moved a little closer—too close—and it suddenly occurred to Matt that the situation was potentially even more awkward than he’d first thought. He hoped he’d mistaken the delight in her tone. “I have been wanting to catch you alone from the moment I saw you.”

Nope. It seemed he hadn’t mistaken anything.

“Oh?” Matt didn’t know what else to say. Was Eve hearing any of this? If so, she could at least have the decency to help him out.

Lena moved closer still. “Yes.” She placed a hand on his chest, and he swallowed, hard. “I would imagine you and I have a lot in common.”

He did his best to sound discouraging. “Really?”

Light fingers began to draw circles on his shirtfront. “You are alone in a strange city, and no doubt lonely. I am alone in a strange country where nobody understands me.” Lena’s voice trembled. “And I am
definitely
lonely.”

Matt’s mind raced. The woman was hitting on him, and he had to do something to make her stop. This was a prime reason why he most definitely wasn’t looking for a trophy wife. That was the trouble with trophies—sooner or later, they landed with the competition.

“Eve should be back any moment,” he repeated, inching backward. “She’s a jealous woman, Lena. I’d hate to have her misinterpret the fact that you and I are out here alone together.”

Lena’s hands dropped to her sides, much to his relief. Her accent grew more pronounced, although he suspected that was an affectation. Most men likely found it charming.

“I had no idea you were a couple. Eve, she does not normally bother with the men.”

“No?” That was nice to know…although Eve probably didn’t bother with men because she scared them off.

“I thought this was a business event,” Lena added. “Connor sometimes asks her to introduce the V-I-Ps around on behalf of the company.”

“It’s definitely not strictly business between me and Eve,” he said.

Lena heaved her impressive breasts. “I would hate to get you into trouble with her.” She gave his tie a little tug. “Maybe I will see you later?”

She sauntered off with an elegant sway to her hips and a smoldering glance over her shoulder. Matt waited until he was certain she was gone before crossing to the bench Eve had hurdled.

“Get back up here,” he grumbled, scanning the long shadows. “I want to talk to you.”

Eve’s voice came from out of the darkness. “I’d be angry with you,” she said with an air of satisfaction, “except you got exactly what you deserved. ‘You’re welcome to wait with me if you’d like,’” she parroted, then mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Lena can’t resist the good-looking ones.”

At least she thought he was good-looking. That meant one thing had gone right so far this evening.

“You could have warned me about her
before
you did your disappearing act,” Matt said. He placed one knee on the bench and peered into the bushes. “Would you get up here where I can see you?”

The bushes rustled again. “I can’t.”

Matt wondered how long they had before someone else wandered outside and found them like this. He was torn between fascination and maintaining his dignity. She didn’t seem all that concerned about hers.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I mean,” Eve explained in a matter-of-fact tone, “that my dress is snagged on a twig, and I’m trying to get it free without tearing anything.”

“Let me give you a hand.” Leaning over the bench in the direction of her voice, he parted the bushes and could just make out Eve’s form in the darkness. The bushes lurched as she tugged at her dress.

“Don’t do that,” he warned, stretching out a hand, his fingertips brushing against the fabric. He leaned a little farther, trying to get a grip. “You’re going to make things worse. I think I can get it if I just—”

He moved forward one inch too far and tumbled headfirst into his uncle’s fragrant shrubbery. Matt rolled, spit out a mouthful of dirt, and spared a fleeting thought for the kind of mulch his uncle’s gardener might use. Whatever it was, he hoped a dry cleaner could get the smell off his suit.

Then, Eve burst into soft peals of laughter that made him forget all about Lena, the crowd, the threat of discovery, and even the prickly underbrush jabbing through his clothing.

She had the most incredible laugh. It wasn’t a polite little party laugh, either, the kind he was used to hearing from women. It came from deep inside her, too big for her tiny frame, like she’d explode if she didn’t let it out. It invited anyone who heard it to laugh along with her, and Matt felt every inch of his body respond to it.

She didn’t seem to care that her dress was most likely ruined or that her hair was a mess. And it was obvious she hadn’t given any thought as to how they were going to explain this to any of the other people present. Matt couldn’t help but be charmed, and maybe a little bit envious. Everything she did, she did with passion—he could tell that about her already. What would it be like to live life like that?

That was when the situation really struck him. He was rolling around in his uncle’s shrubbery with a sexy new colleague in a peekaboo dress. A company code of ethics didn’t quite have this one covered. He wasn’t too sure what to do about it—or when he’d become such an old man.

Because personally, he didn’t see how it would do any real harm.

The night was warm, and the air was heavy with the threat of approaching rain. If they didn’t move soon they’d be mud wrestling, too.

Still, he was no longer in any hurry to go anywhere. No one could see them even if they did come out on the patio. He figured this put them well past the first base of any relationship, professional or otherwise, and wondered if it would be inappropriate to kiss her.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Here’s your chance to get to know me better.”

“I already know you suck at making excuses.” Laughter lingered in her voice. She caught his ribs with an elbow. “Who says ‘powder your nose’ anymore? What are you, ninety?”

“I panicked. Besides, there may be snow on the roof, but there’s plenty of fire in the furnace.” He edged closer. “Don’t move. I’ll unhook your dress.”

He pinned her down with the weight of one leg and reached across her, taking his time, enjoying the moment. She smelled a lot better than the mulch.

The moment stretched. Inside the house, he could hear muted conversation and the faint clatter of plates and glasses.

“We’re flattening your uncle’s forsythia,” Eve said.

“Consider it his punch in the nose.”

He finally got a finger under the piece of fabric on the prickly shrub, lifted it, and she was free. Again, he debated the wisdom of kissing her. Something pulled him to her like a magnet. He lowered his hand and ran a thumb across her lower lip.

She froze.

Not the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“I think my dress is untangled now,” she said, all the laughter gone, sounding uncertain in a way that only made him want to kiss her more, but for different reasons.

Disappointment mingled with temptation as Matt told himself to be a gentleman. She had hesitated. That meant the fun and games were over.

The sudden swish of the patio doors warned him they were no longer alone. Time dragged to a standstill. Then his uncle’s voice boomed from above.

“Mattie? You out here?”

The situation could still be saved as long as his uncle didn’t hear them. Matt leaned over, intending to whisper in her ear for Eve to be quiet, but in the process, accidentally pinched the soft flesh of her underarm beneath his elbow.

“Ouch!” she gasped, then clapped a hand to her mouth.

Matt, with an impending sense of doom, dropped his forehead to hers. It seemed there was a downside to a passionate lifestyle.

The outdoor floodlights flared, and the entire area lit up like an operating room. There was an awkward moment of silence.

“It’s a big house,” his uncle said slowly. “Couldn’t you two find a room?”

…

Eve’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel as her car hummed along the dark, empty streets. Her hair was a wreck, and Matt’s suit was covered in mulch. She had to give Bob credit for handling the situation well. He’d offered to tell people that Matt had been called away on business, giving them time to slink around the side of the house and slither off into the night.

Eve slouched deeper in her seat. There must be a perverse little part of her subconscious that liked to see her humiliate herself. She’d really thought Matt was going to kiss her, and she’d panicked. That suggested it had been either way too long since she’d been kissed by a man, or not long enough. She wasn’t sure which.

Or maybe it was because that one phone call from Claude had set her confidence back a few years.

She made a mental note not to be so hard on the men at work the next time they whistled at women. After Lena’s performance—and her own—it was apparent that men weren’t the only ones who could make idiots of themselves over the opposite sex.

She wished Matt would say something now. Anything. He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d reached the car. It was the one punishment in life she found difficult to bear—the silent treatment.

“Look at us,” she said brightly, needing to break a silence that felt far too oppressive. “All dressed up, and no place to go.”

He grunted, his eyes glued on the road ahead.

“You have a leaf in your hair,” she ventured, ignoring the bird’s nest in her own.

He cranked open the window, plucked the offending leaf from his hair, and released it into the night.

“I’m sorry,” she tried again, willing to start the apologies rolling. “I should never have dodged Lena like that.”

“That wasn’t your finest moment,” he said.

The old, familiar anxiety slowly twisted her stomach in knots, and she resented it. Perhaps she could have handled things differently, but it wasn’t as if she’d planned for any of it to happen. She hadn’t been alone in those bushes.

“At least I covered for us nicely.”

“You told my uncle you lost an earring,” Matt said.

“Well, I did.” Her fingers strayed to her naked lobe. One of her favorites, too. She really needed to stop playing with them.

“That’s the second earring you’ve lost this week. You should consider using staples.” He looked directly at her for the first time since they’d crawled from the bushes and limped to the car. “No offense,” he continued, “but you come off a little scary sometimes.”

Eve slowed for a corner. “What do you mean?”

“You ordered my uncle to trim his hedge.”

“It was a ragged-looking.”

“Only because you’d crushed it.”

“I crushed it?” If they were going to cast stones about crushing things, she still had his hand imprint on one of her breasts.

“Hey,” Matt said. “The hedge was yours. I did the forsythia.”

“It’s nice of you to remember that I wasn’t alone.”