Desire by Design

chapter Thirteen


Matt heard a noise that sounded like a bin overturning and looked out the bedroom window to see what was going on.

Then he heard her shouting his name.

She came from the side of the house, on the driveway, and walked toward the street. Her attention was fastened on a tall man standing under the streetlight on the sidewalk. He wore high-top sneakers, knee-length denim cut-offs, and an orange polo shirt. His hairline started a little farther north of his ears, and the wide smile had been replaced with sulky belligerence, but Matt recognized his face from the newspaper clipping.

Son of a—

He had been entertained when Eve told him how she’d broken her ex-husband’s nose and blackened both eyes, but he’d heard about it after the fact, when it was too late to worry and everything had worked out. Now, presented with the very real probability that she’d try it again before he could get there—only this time Claude would be prepared for it—Matt discovered his reaction was different. It bordered on panic. He raced down the stairs and out the front door just in time to see Claude give her a shove.

And Matt saw red.

Yet, as it turned out, she didn’t need his protection. In typical Eve style, she didn’t waste time on words. She hauled back her arm and swung a punch at her ex-husband, as hard as she could. Claude, however, had indeed been prepared. He turned his head to the side so that the blow glanced off his cheek.

“That was for the phone calls,” she was saying, shaking her fingers. “And this,” she added, drawing her fist back again, “is for breaking into my house.”

There was a fine line between self-defense and assault. Matt caught her around the waist and swung her aside. She kicked out with her feet, trying to free herself, but Matt held on tight.

She stopped struggling. “I’m fine. I’m calm. Really. You can let go of me.”

But when Matt did so, she lunged forward. He whipped his arms around her waist again.

“Someone, call the police,” Claude was shouting.

Matt didn’t understand why the other man wasn’t running away. He couldn’t hold Eve back much longer. The flashing of red-and-blue lights turning onto the street came almost as a relief. One of the neighbors must have already called in to report a disturbance.

And then, with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Matt thought he knew what Claude had been trying to accomplish.

“Well, well,” said a familiar voice as the officer who had stopped Eve and Matt the night of the fundraiser emerged from the patrol car. He surveyed the scene before him. “You two certainly get around.”

…

“Now you know why it’s important to keep a record of all the phone calls and the break-ins,” Bob said into the silence filling his car.

Did she ever. Eve was still shaking with anger at the injustice of it all. “I can’t believe Claude had the nerve to press charges and ask for a peace bond!”

“Don’t worry, after a year you can always punch him again. A little jail time won’t hurt you,” Bob said cheerfully. “And I think you really scared him.”

Eve hoped so.

“Thanks for bailing us out,” Matt said to his uncle.

“Any time.” Bob glanced into his rearview mirror. “You okay back there, Evie?”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said.

Bob’s grin was wide and satisfied. “You bet. More than just a little, too. I’m so proud I might burst into tears. I keep telling you, Evie. You’re a bully.”

It didn’t help any to know she’d proven Bob right. She was, indeed, a bully. If Matt hadn’t been having second thoughts about her before, he had to be having them now—even if Claude had deserved another punch in the nose.

Eve slumped back in the cushiony leather seat. But she was feeling just a wee bit frustrated at the reversal of roles. Claude had goaded her into hitting him so he could press charges. Claude had wanted revenge, and she’d let him have it. She hadn’t bothered saying that he pushed her first. When Matt tried to clarify that to the police, she’d shut him down.

Now he was mad.

“Look on the bright side,” Bob added. “Mattie can spend more time on his backlogged business in Toronto. You’ll have your house to yourself again. There’s the silver lining.”

Matt grunted, and Eve contemplated the back of his head. He’d never said a word to her about being backlogged, but what had she thought—that Halifax’s pitiful little City Hall was the crowning glory of his illustrious career?

Bob stopped in front of her house.

“By the way, we’ll be having an information session at City Hall Wednesday morning. The press will be there.” He shot her a thoughtful look over the back of his seat then nudged his nephew. “Seems Evie’s friend Marion tipped them off.”

“She’s not my friend,” Eve said. “If you’ve done something you should be ashamed of, Bob, that’s your problem. Not mine. I’m not lying for you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Eve. You won’t have to say a word. Just show up and look beautiful.”

Matt dropped his head in his hands. “Don’t you know her at all?” Eve heard him mutter to Bob.

Bob sounded surprised. “But she is beautiful.”

She was too tired for this. If she had something to say Wednesday morning, she’d say it. There was nothing Bob could do to stop her.

She and Matt walked around to the back of the house and entered through the open deck door. The adrenaline high she’d been on was definitely starting to wear off. She wished he would put his arms around her. She wanted the clock to go back twenty-four hours so they could make love on the beach again. Her heart twisted.

Correction: there had been no talk of love last night, and she wasn’t hearing any talk of it now. This was the moment when Matt was supposed to take her in his arms and tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not for very long. She counted the ticks of the clock on the wall. Twenty-seven. This was awful. She was being needy, and she didn’t like the feeling.

Twenty-nine.

“I didn’t realize you were falling behind on your work,” she said.

“Yes, well.” Matt frowned. “That’s one of the many things you and I need to talk about.”

She had a bad feeling that she wasn’t going to like the conversation he had in mind, and decided she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Not yet. Not after tonight.

Not until she’d had more time to prepare herself. She’d been the one to tell him she wanted a casual relationship, and she wasn’t going to beg him for more.

“I’m tired,” she said. “Can this wait until another time?”

Matt looked like he wanted to argue, then gave in.

“Okay,” he said. “But we really need to have a serious talk sometime soon.”

Eve needed to have an even more serious talk with herself.

She went to bed, then waited to see where Matt would spend the night. She could hear the low rumble of his voice as he spoke on the phone downstairs. A long while later, he paused for a moment outside her bedroom, then continued down the short hall. His door snicked shut.

Eve rolled over, burying her face in her pillow.

…

The next day, Matt was gone before she got home from work. His note said he’d had to make an emergency trip to Toronto, but he’d be back in time for the meeting.

…

As she entered City Hall for Bob’s meeting on Wednesday morning, he and his uncle were both waiting for her in the main foyer.

It was silly for her heart to pound this way at the sight of him. He’d only been gone two days. Two long, lonely days when she’d buried herself in work, and two longer, lonely nights when she’d stared at her bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep because she was afraid their relationship was over before it had even begun.

Matt, on the other hand, looked like he’d never slept better. It seemed the time they’d been apart hadn’t been the agony for him that it had been for her.

“Hey, Eve,” he said, kissing her cheek.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

“Let’s get out of the hallway before the press arrives, shall we?” Bob said to them.

Worn, red carpeting muffled the sounds of their footsteps as Eve hurried to keep up with the longer-legged men. Bob took her elbow and urged her to move faster, but there was already a group of people huddled outside the meeting room.

“Damn.” Bob veered down another corridor, dragging Eve with him. “I was hoping to have time to brief you on what to say if you’re asked any questions, but I guess I’ll just have to trust your judgment.”

One of her heels snagged on the carpet and she stumbled.

Matt caught her under the arms from behind. “If you carried her you could make better time,” he said to his uncle. “Otherwise, I’d suggest you slow down before she breaks a leg.”

“We can do this right here.” Bob let go of Eve’s arm and she rubbed her elbow, considering all the wonderful ways in which Bob might die. “The Historical Society has raised a—damn,” he interrupted himself, swearing again as they all spotted Marion walking toward them. “Marion. How the hell are you this morning?”

If it weren’t for Bob’s glower, Eve might have thought the two of them were actually glad to see each other.

“Fine, Bob. Just fine.” Marion beamed. “The meeting’s all set to begin.”

The meeting room was small, filled mostly with a few industry professionals and, of course, the press. Eve recognized some government officials, too.

Marion took a seat beside Bob. “Matt, why don’t you start things off with a brief presentation of your design?” she suggested.

Eve was confused. Bob was the mayor. Why was he allowing Marion to take charge of the proceedings?

Matt’s presentation was short, to the point, and well-received. Eve still didn’t understand what was going on. Anyone could call the city and get this information. What was all the fuss about?

“Is it true that the Historical Society is opposing the destruction of this building?” a reporter asked, his bald head gleaming with sweat.

Bob’s response was quick. “Only because the Historical Society hasn’t seen the engineer’s report condemning this site.”

The reporter jotted some notes in his notebook. “Has anyone seen this engineer’s report?”

“Of course.”

The reporter smiled. “Other than yourself, sir?”

Bob considered the question. “The engineer who wrote it must have seen it,” he offered.

There was a ripple of laughter that only served to punctuate the sick feeling Eve now had in the pit of her stomach. She’d seen that report. She might even have mentioned it to Marion, although she couldn’t be sure. If she had, it was public information. Marion could have gotten it easily. Eve didn’t dare look at Matt. On top of everything else, how would he feel about her if she had somehow done something to ruin his uncle’s well-laid plans, even if it hadn’t been intentional?

Eve’s stomachache worsened.

“There have been reports of expenditures that are grossly over budget,” the reporter continued.

Eve leaped to her feet. “I’d like to address that, if I may.”

“I’m sorry. You are?” the reporter inquired politely, his pen poised.

“Evangeline Doucette.” She spelled her last name. Bob looked like he might be having a stroke. She could see his hands under the table. He was twisting his notes, probably wishing they were her neck. “I’m the project manager. I handle the budget, among other things.”

“The budget. Can you explain”—the reporter paused to shuffle through some pages in front of him, then pulled out several photocopied sheets—“an order for twenty custom-made desks at five-thousand dollars apiece, and twenty custom-made chairs, each at a thousand, for the new Council Room, placed before construction has even begun?”

One-hundred-twenty-thousand dollars on furniture.

Eve felt faint. Yes, she could explain it. The high-priced architect shouldn’t be left alone with an expense account number and catalogues.

“Custom-made furniture needs to be ordered well in advance,” she said. “Those desks and chairs are meant to suit the architectural style of the new building. They are fixtures that will never need to be replaced. As long as the new building stands, any redecorating can be done around the furniture and need not involve the furniture. Therefore, it will pay for itself in the long run. They’ll also make the Council Room an attractive place for tourists to visit. And,” she added for good measure, “I’d hardly call them ‘grossly over budget.’” She squared her shoulders, aware that Bob and Matt were staring at her in thinly veiled amazement. Well, she wouldn’t. She’d call them stupid and frivolous, but she could still see them as assets. She knew her job.

Bob recovered first. “Exactly,” he affirmed. “The furniture should be considered permanent fixtures.”

“Ms. Doucette.” Again, the reporter referred to his notes. Eve was beginning to hate that pile of paper. “Is it true that you are opposed to the demolition of this building?”

Marion was the only person with whom she had discussed the matter, other than Matt and Bob. Whatever happened to professional courtesy?

Or maybe Eve had been too eager to impress her. While she hadn’t said anything that wasn’t public information, it still made her feel like she’d done something underhanded.

“I work for the contractor on the new construction,” she explained. She fought an urge to wipe her damp hands on something, like maybe Bob for dragging her into this mess. “The demolition of the current Hall has nothing to do with my position as project manager for the new structure.”

“Do you specialize in historical restorations?”

This reporter had certainly come prepared. She suspected that his hesitancy over her name had only been for effect. What had Marion told him?

“I have worked on restoration projects, yes.” She now had a good idea where this conversation was going, and since the reporter knew exactly who she was, telling lies could only harm her professional integrity. Telling the truth, however, might possibly harm Bob, and through him, Matt. “But that’s not what I was hired for on this project.”

“Have you seen the engineer’s report Mayor Anderson referred to?”

Everyone in the room waited for her answer. “Yes, I have.”

“What’s your professional opinion on it?”

“I have no professional opinion. I haven’t enough information to give one.”

“Then what about a personal opinion?”

Bob sprang to his feet. “I think Ms. Doucette has already told you that she hasn’t formed an opinion. She’s not an engineer or an architect. I can’t imagine how her opinion would be of value.”

Couldn’t imagine how her opinion would be of value? If Eve were to kill him, she had a room full of witnesses who could swear she’d been driven to it.

“Sir,” the reporter replied politely, “it’s my understanding that she has, indeed, formed an opinion. Furthermore, it is also my understanding that she is fully qualified to state that opinion.” He proceeded to list Eve’s qualifications, and Eve had to admit, she did sound impressive. “Now. Ms. Doucette. Can this building be saved? And if so, would saving it be economically feasible?”

“I don’t think it’s fair to put Ms. Doucette on the spot like this,” Bob continued to protest. “We’re here to talk about the new construction, not the old building.”

The reporter scented blood in the water. “Are you saying that Ms. Doucette is not allowed to answer my question?”

Bob straightened his shoulders and looked at Eve. “I’m advising against it.”

Eve now had to make a choice. Everyone in the room knew that Bob Anderson was trying to pull something. Did she let him get away with it, or did she give her honest opinion? Eve asked herself what her response would be if it weren’t for Matt.

But Matt had never given her any reason to think she couldn’t be honest. She wouldn’t want him this much if he had.

“Yes,” she answered slowly. “I think it would be possible to save this building. But without doing cost estimates, I have no idea whether or not it would be feasible for the city to do so.”

The reporter grunted, then moved on to other victims, for which Eve was thankful.

Bob seemed displeased, but she didn’t especially care since she wasn’t pleased with him, either. She did, however, care about Matt. His expression was unreadable, his whole attention seemingly now focused on the next speaker, and she tried not to feel hurt.

She’d been asked for her professional opinion, and she’d given it. She couldn’t have done anything else, not even for Matt. Because regardless of what others thought, it was more important to her that she approve of herself.

That was the mistake she’d made in marrying Claude. She’d thought he was more important than she was, simply because they’d both been impressed by his doctorate degree.

When the meeting was over she gathered her things and rushed from the room, ignoring the reporters who called out for her to wait.

…

Eve took off so fast, Matt couldn’t stop her.

He wanted to go after her, but his issues with his uncle weren’t going to wait. He’d catch up with Eve as soon as he could because they had things to discuss, too, but he was tired of people messing with her. That included his uncle. She was so easily manipulated, and never seemed to see it coming.

Claude had manipulated her, too. Eve hadn’t gone to the police before, and he’d known she wouldn’t this time. He’d anticipated that she’d try and hit him again, and he’d done his best to provoke her. That was why he’d turned his head away. He’d planned all along to press charges against her.

Because Eve was far more predictable than she realized.

Matt leaned closer so only Uncle Bob could hear. “I want to see you in your office.”

His uncle froze for a millisecond, then continued to toss notes back into his briefcase. “Not now, Mattie. I have damage control to attend to.”

“If you don’t find the time right this minute, you’re going to have a lot more damage than this to control.”

Uncle Bob spoke up, addressing a few of the reporters who were hovering near the door. “I can’t talk right now,” he said. “A family emergency has just come up.”

Matt followed close behind him. They strode down the hall and up the wide staircase, then turned right into a suite of offices. Packing crates littered the floors.

Uncle Bob waved to his secretary. “Hold my calls.”

He closed the heavy, colonial door leading to his private office before facing Matt. “Can we make this fast? I really do have things I need to take care of. That meeting was a total disaster.”

For a man who thought the meeting was such a disaster, Uncle Bob wasn’t looking all that upset. In fact, he was looking downright happy.

“I hope you aren’t planning to blame this on Eve,” Matt said quietly.

“Not at all. If there’s one thing that can be counted on in this world, it’s that Evie will do exactly what she thinks is right.” His uncle rubbed his hands together. “People expect me to try and pull something over on them, and she just proved them correct. Always give people what they expect, Mattie. Remember that. Keeps them on their toes. Thanks to her, between the money we’ve already raised and the money the province will now have to kick in to protect a heritage site, we can build one helluva Matt Brison original.”

“You used Eve to get what you want,” Matt said. Eve might be wrong about his uncle being a moron, but Uncle Bob was something, all right. “Plus, you insulted her professionalism. Do you even care how you made her feel today?”

“I’ll make it up to her.”

Matt wondered what world his uncle lived in. “If I were you, I wouldn’t send her flowers. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but she doesn’t like them very much.”

“No, I won’t send her flowers. But I have arranged for her ex-husband to be sent on a special long-term research project in the Arctic Ocean,” Bob said. “Good thing Evie got in that punch when she did. Seems the federal government needs a shellfish expert, and the University’s president highly recommended him for the position.” Uncle Bob, whistling merrily, sank an imaginary putt. “You should take up golf, Mattie. You get to be friends with a lot of influential people.”

From the South Pacific to hunting shellfish in the Arctic…ouch. That would have to hurt almost as much as Claude’s broken nose. Uncle Bob was a man who really knew how to throw a punch.

In that instant, Matt forgave him. “Thank you,” he said. He’d been grateful before for the things his uncle had done for him over the years, but this trumped them all. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“A private donation would be nice. Eve’s been making noise about wanting me to buy curtains for a youth Internet café project she’s been volunteering on.” Bob looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. “I keep trying to tell you that she’s too good for you.”

“She is, but I’m going to marry her, anyway.” All he had to do was figure out some way to get her to say yes. Deep down, tough little Eve was scared to death of commitment.

Uncle Bob shifted some papers on his desk, a small, satisfied smile lurking on his lips. “Finally. I was starting to worry you’d never figure out that smart men marry up.”

Matt knew he’d been played. He supposed he’d known all along. “What makes you think she’ll marry down?”

“I told you already. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that Eve will do what she thinks is right.” Uncle Bob’s smile widened. “And what she thinks is right is usually the opposite of whatever I say.”