Desire by Design

chapter Eight


Eve rubbed her temples and stared out of her tiny office window overlooking the parking lot. Matt had dropped her off that morning, as he had every other day during the past two weeks when he’d needed to borrow her car, then gone home to wait for a delivery.

The meeting Bob had arranged with City Council was set for eleven o’clock, and Matt’s drafting department in Toronto was sending the preliminary blueprints by priority post—for plans he wouldn’t let her see beforehand, although he’d assured her over and over that he’d taken her notes into consideration and that she’d love the design.

He refused, however, to share it with her. She was willing to bet that it was because he wanted her to see the reaction of other people first before she started in with her list of complaints.

Maybe he was coming to know her a little too well.

If he’d truly taken her notes into consideration, then the least she could do was give his design a fair chance. But she wasn’t going to get her hopes up. She was getting to know him better, too, and he had expensive tastes. His shampoo cost more than hers. Not that she had any right to judge how he spent his own money, but their ideas of fiscal restraint appeared to be vastly different. She wanted to get this meeting over with so she could get started on the budget.

Again.

To top it all off, her parents were due to arrive in the morning. There went her weekend.

The view of the parking lot didn’t help the headache slamming behind her eyelids. She sat up straighter in her chair, all but pressing her nose against the pane of glass. Bob Anderson was getting out of a car. He was early, and that meant he was here to see someone beforehand. She prayed it wasn’t going to be her.

The company secretary knocked on Eve’s open door, nervously clearing her throat. “Hi. I thought I should tell you the site supervisor from out in Bedford called, and the delivery date for the structural steel you ordered has been moved back a week.”

The day got better by the minute. Eve let out a long, slow breath. She had handed in a completed schedule for that particular project to Connor just that morning. Now she’d have to redo the whole thing.

She’d dressed for the office today, too. She kicked off her uncomfortable high heels and hung her thin, linen suit jacket over the back of a chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle, then prepared to get back to work.

Bob’s silvery head appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Evie. Got a minute?”

She wished she could break him of calling her that, but pointing it out made it worse. “What can I do for you?”

He cleared a stack of files from a spare chair crammed in a corner and drew it close to her desk. “Just thought I’d drop by early and invite everyone here at Sullivan Construction to a ground-breaking ceremony.”

Eve’s headache grew steadily worse. “You can’t have a ground-breaking ceremony if you don’t have any ground to break.”

Bob dismissed that minor detail as if it were of no particular concern. “Then we’ll make it another fundraising party and unveil the new plans to the public.”

Eve pressed her fingertips against her eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you wait until after the plans are approved?”

“They’ll be approved.” He picked up a stress ball from her desk and rolled it between his palms. “Matt’s a great guy, you know. Shame he doesn’t have a special someone in his life.”

She thought she knew where this conversation was headed, and it had nothing to do with the upcoming meeting. “Don’t even think about it. Matt’s not my type.”

“Of course he’s not your type,” Bob said, surprised. “You aren’t his, either. Where would you even get such an idea? You two are all wrong for each other. Matt needs more of a…homebody.”

There was an insult in there somewhere. Eve was sure of it.

“To knit him socks?” she suggested. “And fetch his slippers?”

“Ha ha.” Bob thought about it. “But close. His dad died when Mattie was just a baby, and while I hate to say this about my own sister, his mother has always been kind of a flake. She didn’t provide him with much affection growing up, yet he’s such a low-key, gentle person himself. So responsible and reliable. While you, Evie…you’re…” His voice trailed off as if he’d suddenly thought better of whatever it was he’d been about to say.

Eve’s hands clenched into two tight fists. She rapped the back of her knuckles on the desktop. He’d better not be calling her a flake. “What am I?”

He flashed an apologetic smile. “You’re kind of a bully.”

Eve almost laughed. Almost, but not quite. Bob Anderson, who dwarfed her by almost a foot—who steamrolled over people like he was spreading hot asphalt—thought she was a bully?

Her eyes narrowed. Had he also implied that she somehow wasn’t responsible and reliable?

“I’ll have you know that I’m very good at my job,” she said, seizing on the one insult she felt most able to rebut. “I’m as responsible and reliable as anyone else in this industry, and more so than most.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” Bob agreed, propelling his chair back a few inches. “Except you could be a little more careful with a nail gun, I suppose.”

Eve’s mouth opened and closed.

Connor chose that split second of indecision to interrupt. “Bob! I thought I heard your voice. Got a few minutes for a coffee?”

Bob leaped to his feet, relief evident on his face. “You bet.” He paused and half turned back to Eve. “Want to join us, Evie?”

She forced a smile to her numb lips. “I can’t. I have a new project schedule to complete.”

The two men fled. She listened to their voices echoing down the hallway. Then, she crumpled up a sheet of paper and fired it at the wall.

The secretary came back in and made a move to lay some more papers in front of Eve. “Here are the typed minutes you requested from the last project meeting.”

“Do you think I’m a bully?” Eve demanded.

“Of course not.” The secretary dropped the minutes like they’d grown teeth and snarled at her. “Gotta go.”

Eve twirled an earring. She might not be a bully, but maybe her people skills could use some fine-tuning. She’d practice them at the meeting by being open-minded about the design.

As long as it wasn’t some funky modern nightmare that would blow the budget out of the water, she could handle it.

…

The meeting was held in the air-conditioned boardroom at Sullivan Construction.

“Good afternoon.” Connor breezed in behind Bob, and immediately got things underway by introducing everyone around the table. Aside from the Sullivan Construction team, the architect, and the mayor, there were three city councilors.

“Now,” Connor said, taking his seat at the head of the table, “let’s turn things over to Matt.”

Eve couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d gotten used to the casual clothes he wore around home, but Matt donned a good suit like a second skin. The expensive cut underscored the long, lean muscles of his arms and legs, and the rich, fluid fabric flowed like water with every move he made. His cropped, tousled hair added a touch of untidiness that set him apart from the neatly combed councilors in the room, too. He looked confident, successful, and really, really sexy.

Eve’s heart took an odd little tumble. Her heels pinched her toes, and her pantyhose itched at the waistband. She wore office attire only when she had to, and never looked that well put-together. Bob was right—she wasn’t Matt’s type at all. They were from different worlds.

Electric blue eyes connected briefly with hers in an intimate, almost-possessive display, intended solely for the benefit of the other males in the room.

There it was again, Eve thought, irritated. That way men had of marking territory, even when the territory didn’t belong to them.

“This is No-Man’s Land, buddy,” she telegraphed. He smiled at her, then launched into his architect’s spiel.

It was soon evident that Matt had, indeed, done his homework, just like he’d claimed.

“And,” he concluded, stacking his notes together into a neat little pile, “since the preservation of the history of this region is an important factor, I took that into proper account.”

He approached the drawings positioned at the front of the room and pulled back the cloth covering them, inviting everyone to come forward for a closer look.

Eve studied the blueprints with a combination of horror and resignation. It wasn’t a funky modern nightmare at all. The building was beautiful. It was breathtaking. He’d taken her ideas and he’d made them…

Better. And she was a little jealous. But this building was so far out of their price range, she didn’t know how to break it to people.

“It represents a ship, for the Atlantic Ocean,” Matt explained to the room. “And the relationship this region has with the sea.”

Eve leaned forward to review the blueprint. She smoothed the sheet with one fingertip, impressed and not wanting to be. “There isn’t one straight line on the whole drawing. It would be impossible to build,” she said.

“It’s not impossible. We’ll use a lattice-like grid steel structure to replace the concrete the engineers would normally use. Then we’ll put local sandstone on the outside of the building to help it blend in with the neighbors.”

“And where are you going to find the structural engineers who can build such a thing?” she asked. Not to mention that structural engineers didn’t come any cheaper than architects.

“Your local technical college is on the cutting edge of this type of technology. One of the professors has been breaking new ground in free-standing steel structures. All the college needs is to have the same CAD program I use in my office, which they do. I checked.”

Dollar signs continued to click before her eyes. Matt wasn’t used to worrying about budgets, that much was obvious. “This is—”

“Innovative,” Connor interrupted. He shot her a warning look. “We’ll consult with the engineers and get a cost estimate. Then we can make a final decision.”

“I like it.” Bob, silent until now, added his two cents. “But do you suppose you could make it look more like a space ship? To represent the future?”

Space ship? Eve turned her head to stare.

Even Matt was startled by that suggestion. “I don’t think a space ship would blend in well,” he said cautiously. “Halifax isn’t NASA.”

“If we build this the way you’ve designed it, it will look like a ride at Disney World. Which would be so much better.” Eve said it under her breath, but she knew Matt heard. Ripples of laughter meant others had heard, too. “But it’s certainly modern,” she added.

Matt’s jaw set, the intimate, possessive look he’d given her earlier now gone from his eyes. She could tell by the glint of steel in them that she’d gone too far with the Disney remark.

“I could always stick a bit of gingerbread trim around the archways,” he suggested. “Would that satisfy you?”

Now, he was just fighting dirty.

“Are they married?” she heard one councilor whisper to another. “Because they do a really good impression of it.”

“I don’t think they’re married, but I hear they live together,” the second councilor whispered back.

Good news traveled fast.

“Putting up one more building with Palladian arches in this city would be cheating future populations,” Matt continued. There were a few nods of agreement. “The past is important, yes, but so is the future. I believe my design encompasses both.”

“And it’s impressive.” Connor rose from his seat, indicating that the meeting was over, and reached over to shake his hand. “I suggest we wait until we get the engineers’ estimates before we discuss this any further.”

The room was emptying fast, and Eve hustled to join the tail end of the queue.

Matt snagged the belt loop on the back of her skirt. “Not so fast.”

He was beyond angry. The tiny jerk of muscle underneath his clean-shaven jaw gave that much away.

“I thought of everything—the history of the region, the other buildings bordering its location, even how much sun exposure the front entrance would receive—winter and summer. What’s your real objection to my design?” His words were low and measured.

This couldn’t be the first time someone hadn’t fallen in love with one of his designs.

But she had. She simply couldn’t bring herself to admit it. She’d convinced herself he couldn’t come up with a terrific design, and she’d been wrong. On the other hand, she wasn’t wrong about the cost. This building was never going to happen.

He clasped his hands together and tapped his lower lip with his index fingers. He raised an eyebrow and studied her for an excruciating moment. A sudden gleam erupted in his fierce blue eyes. He took two more steps toward her until her back was literally against the wall. He planted his palms on either side of her head and looked down at her.

“Do you know what I think?” he said. “I think you won’t admit you like my design because you’re afraid if you do, you’ll be admitting you like me, too.”

What?

He was so close that, if she leaned forward, she could press her cheek into the crisp, broad solidness of his white, cotton shirtfront. She could wrap her arms around him or rise up on her toes and kiss him on the corner of his solid, sexy mouth. She could breathe in his expensive, spicy aftershave, mint cough drops, and fabric softener, all mixed together in a heady male scent.

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I like the design,” Eve said over the sudden hammering of her heart. “Bottom line is that we can’t afford it.”

“So your only objection is the money?” Matt asked, shifting his body closer.

Eve struggled to remember what it was she was objecting to. He was standing far too near for her to think straight. His tie was temptingly close to her nose, and she grabbed the knot, giving it a hard tug, and he jerked back in surprise.

There. She could think again.

“I know how much money we’re working with,” she reminded him. “Bob would have to come up with a whole lot more in order to pay for your building, and I don’t believe he can do it.”

Matt took her fingers in his and held them against his chest. His hand was warm, strong, and swallowed hers whole. “You’d be amazed at what a person can do when given the proper incentive.”

He might find himself somewhat amazed, too, if he kept this kind of incentive up. Eve found it difficult to figure him out sometimes. He enjoyed tormenting her—never going too far, just far enough to confuse her.

She heard footsteps in the corridor outside and remembered where they were. “Anyone could walk in here,” she said, snatching her hand back. “This could prove embarrassing for the both of us.”

“They already know we’re living together.” He slid his hands around her waist. “Tell me. If I got the extra money for the design, would you kiss me, Eve? And would you admit you liked it?”

She wasn’t sure if he meant the kiss or the design, and she wasn’t about to ask for clarification. She’d thought he was uptight and conservative when she’d first met him, but she might have to rethink that assessment since his fingers had edged their way beneath the hem of her jacket.

But Eve was nothing if not stubborn. Neither was she very good at Matt’s brand of flirting, and she wasn’t sure where they were drawing the line. She was calling his bluff. “If you want a kiss, come and get it.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “I don’t think so,” he finally said, and she felt the disappointment all the way down to her pinched toes in her office heels. He lifted his hand and ran a thumb across her lower lip. “How about…if you want a kiss, you ask me for it?”

The sound of a throat being cleared made both of them start.

“If I kiss you, will you buy me lunch?” Bob asked Matt from the doorway. “Because I need to talk to you. It’s important.” He shifted his steady gaze to Eve. “And Connor wants to see you in his office.”

He left, closing the conference door behind him.

Matt looked at Eve. “If I have to buy him lunch, can I take it out of the budget?”

Eve grabbed his tie again and pulled his head down where she could reach it, then planted a solid kiss square on his startled mouth.

He didn’t stay startled for long. His tongue touched hers, nudging her lips farther apart. His hands slid deeper beneath the hem of her linen jacket. Eve burrowed in closer.

The kiss itself only lasted a few seconds. It took her longer to figure out where she was after it ended. His hands held her upright, and his mouth continued to hover a few inches from hers, his lips tipped in a smug smile.

All she’d intended was to prove she could resist him. She hadn’t expected him to be such an enthusiastic participant. A line had been crossed, but she wasn’t sure which one of them had gone over it.

She pried herself free. “Now Bob doesn’t have to kiss you,” she said, straightening Matt’s tie and smoothing his shirt, trying to make light of what felt far from a light situation. “Unless you want him to, that is. In which case, you pay for lunch.”

“This isn’t over, Eve.” Matt lowered his voice even though the door was now closed. “I left your car in the parking lot. I’ll get Uncle Bob to drive me home later. He’s got some meetings planned for the afternoon, but you’ve got my cell number. Call me if you need me.”

Eve’s hands were shaking as she tucked her blouse back into the waistband of her skirt. What she needed right now was a good, stiff drink—and her head examined, because she did like him. His design wasn’t bad, either.

But she’d been fooled once before, and she didn’t think she could stand it if Matt fooled her, too.

…

Matt guessed it would take two glasses of wine before his uncle brought up the subject of Eve.

Uncle Bob always fortified himself before addressing anything controversial, although there was nothing he could say to ruin Matt’s mood. Life was good. Eve couldn’t kiss him like that and not feel anything for him.

He couldn’t wait to get home. And when in the past thirty-odd years had he ever felt like that?

The waitress placed his meal in front of him and refilled his water glass. Matt had to admit to a certain amount of surprise that such a small city had a genuine Thai restaurant, with a menu that was limited but completely authentic and a full house. They’d had to wait to be served.

It was a bigger surprise to him that his meat-and-potatoes uncle would frequent it. The owner even knew him by name.

“I’m the mayor, Mattie. Everyone knows my name,” his uncle said when Matt commented on it. “The city’s not that big.” He took another sip of his drink and regarded Matt with brooding eyes. “She’s not your type, you know.”

One and a half glasses. Uncle Bob must be in a hurry.

Matt took a bite of his spring roll, taking his own time. Delicious. The beef Pad Thai was good, too.

He didn’t want to discuss Eve. His feelings for her—whatever those feelings might be—were private. He didn’t even want to discuss them with her, let alone his uncle.

“I never said she was.”

Uncle Bob looked relieved. “I’m glad you realize it. You’re all wrong for her.”

That threw him. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve got to admit, Mattie.” Uncle Bob rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged his shoulders. “You’re a little too predictable. But Evie, on the other hand… Now, Evie’s quite a woman.”

Matt couldn’t quite get his head around the conversation. “I heard someone say you called her a bully.”

“Oh, she is,” Uncle Bob assured him. “About some things. When it comes to work, she’ll pound you into the dirt. But she isn’t dull, that’s for sure. And she’s a real little beauty, besides.” He sighed, crumbling a piece of bread between his fingers, then got straight to the point. “She’s never going to come around to your way of thinking.”

Matt wasn’t sure he understood. Were his feelings for Eve so transparent that even his uncle could read them? He liked her, more than liked her, and intended to explore what seemed to be a mutual interest, but he wasn’t exactly ready to propose. Besides, Eve had baggage, and too much of it to haul around for the short while they were working together.

His fingers curled around his fork. “What’s my ‘way of thinking?’”

“About your design.” Uncle Bob leaned forward, and Matt eased his grip on the cutlery. This wasn’t going to be the conversation he’d feared. It was going to be worse.

“She’ll sabotage it,” he said, a dish crashing to the floor somewhere near the kitchen and punctuating his words. “I heard a rumor that if she can ensure a heritage-style building, she’ll be invited by the province to bid for a spot on the art gallery restoration project slated for next year. Historic reconstruction and restoration is a specialty of hers.”

Matt felt as if he’d been gut-kicked. All the air exploded from his lungs. That couldn’t be true. Eve wouldn’t get involved in politics, not even to further her career. She was too straightforward. No. Her only objection to his design was the price tag.

Because she didn’t like to lose. It was obvious that Eve wasn’t a very good sport.

“It’s true,” his uncle insisted, as if sensing Matt’s disbelief. “The province and I have been fighting it out for over a year now, ever since we decided to go ahead and replace the old City Hall. Marion Balcom’s been spearheading the project. They want to save the old building. Barring that, they want a heritage replication for the new one. You can never convince politicians that something might be out of their jurisdiction, though.” Uncle Bob sounded tired. “They get a few tree-huggers and left-wing wackos protesting outside their doors, and they cave. It doesn’t matter to them what the majority wants as long as the vocal minority gets off their backs.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you one of those politicians?” Matt said. “How can you be so sure that you know what the majority of the people want?”

“I’m not saying the majority of the people want a modern City Hall. What they probably want is for us to fix up the old one while trying to save a few dollars.” Uncle Bob rubbed his eyes, then picked up his drink again. “What I am saying is that people want a boost to the economy. Money talks. Look at this restaurant, Mattie.” He waved an arm around him. “The first two years it was in business, it lost money because people were afraid to try something new. I found the owner some investors to keep him going because I hoped tourism would save it, plus bring in the locals. Now, it’s a trendy hotspot. On weekends I can’t even get a table without booking in advance.

“That’s what I’m aiming for with this new City Hall, too. Your design will make it a tourist attraction. Hopefully it will spark a little controversy, then a lot of interest. Eventually, it will help move this province into the future.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love the city the way it is.” He downed the last of his drink. “But it has to grow—and I don’t necessarily mean in size—if it wants to compete economically with other cities in this country. And I’ll be damned if I let the province ruin things because of a vocal minority.”

“You’ve got to be wrong about Eve’s part in all this,” Matt said. He didn’t care about minorities, leftists, or anyone else for that matter. Eve wouldn’t try to change anyone’s design for her own personal gain. Especially not one of his.

A passing waitress dropped a napkin, and Uncle Bob bent over to retrieve it for her. She smiled and thanked him before proceeding on her way, her pink skirt weaving through the crowd.

“Why are you telling me this, anyway?” Matt asked.

“Because Eve’s a beautiful woman, and men do stupid things for beautiful women.” Uncle Bob held up his hand when Matt would have interrupted. “You’ve already admitted you made concessions for her. I know your work, Mattie. I saw the concessions, too, and I can live with them. In fact, they’re perfect for this city. You’re an artist as much as you are an architect.

“But if you make any more concessions for Evie, you’ll be compromising your own reputation. Not only that, but you’ll be jeopardizing everything I’ve fought for, too. Right at this moment, City Council is uncommitted as to what kind of building they want, despite some outside pressure. They’ve left the decision up to me. For now. But it wouldn’t take much to sway enough of them in another direction.”

And Matt was expected to choose between his uncle’s wishes and Eve’s.

Right there, Matt lost his appetite. He owed his uncle for all the years he’d been there for him, when he’d taught Matt how to drive a car, or helped him out with college. Matt had never been made to feel obligated, and his uncle probably hadn’t even considered that possibility when he’d asked for this favor, but the obligation was there just the same.

His uncle said his name, and not for the first time. Matt jumped. “Yes?”

“A word of advice.” Uncle Bob waved a forkful of curried chicken. “Whatever you end up doing, for God’s sake, don’t let her talk you into putting gingerbread trim on it.”

…

Eve wasn’t at home when Matt got there.

He gathered fliers that someone had crammed into the old mailbox still attached to the wall beside the front door. He went inside and shut off the alarm system, his good mood totally destroyed. First, Uncle Bob. Now Eve wasn’t where she was supposed to be. It was as if they went out of their way to suck all the calm from his life.

He went to toss the fliers on the counter, then took a closer look. One of them seemed to be a page torn from a scientific journal.

He picked it up and scanned the article. It seemed a Dr. Claude LaPierre had been recently published on some shellfish research he’d completed. It was dry and almost incomprehensible to anyone not interested in the study.

Matt frowned. He could not, for the life of him, figure out what kind of message this was meant to convey. He sifted through the fliers to see what else might be hidden between them. He found a newspaper article in French from some local paper outside of Montreal, Quebec and guessed it was Claude’s hometown by the glowing description of his life and work.

The accompanying photo was of more interest to Matt. He was curious what Eve had seen in the guy. The black-and-white image, although grainy, showed an average-looking man with thinning, blond hair and a wide smile.

Again Matt didn’t understand the message, although it was obvious there was one. Since there was no threat in them however, and nothing to indicate it had even been Claude who had left them, he buried the papers inside a stack of newspapers waiting for recycling day. Eve didn’t need to see them.

But now that Matt had a name and a little additional information, he thought he might make some quiet inquiries as to where Dr. Claude LaPierre, shellfish expert, was working these days.

The doorbell rang and Matt jumped. Maybe she’d forgotten her keys or how to disarm the new alarm system.

He hobbled to answer it. He’d spent the remainder of the day in a number of meetings, and his leg was stiff and sore from sitting for an extended period of time. He made a mental note to get up and move around more often.

It took him a few seconds to place the woman standing on the doorstep. When he did, his stomach plunged and his wariness soared. With the highs and lows his emotions were riding today, sooner or later he’d need medication.

“Hello, Matt.” Lena Sullivan held up a pot and pushed her way past him before he could stop her. “I heard you had been injured, so I brought you some soup.”

“That was very thoughtful of you.” And a little weird, too. It had happened two weeks ago. Matt didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Eve’s not here?” Lena asked, looking around.

“I’m not sure where she is or how long she’ll be. I just got home myself.” He didn’t know what else to say. “Here, let me take that from you. I’ll just put it in the kitchen.”

Matt took the pot from Lena’s hands. He headed down the hall and set it on the table. When he turned, he bumped into Lena, who was right behind him. “Sorry.”

Lena wrapped her arms around his waist. “No problem.”

Matt was seeing a very distinct problem. He tried to disengage himself, but she was stronger than he’d anticipated. “Mrs. Sullivan, I—”

“Call me Lena.”

“Mrs. Sullivan.” Matt eased her hands off his backside. “I’m thinking your husband might not like this.”

Lena’s full red lips crooked downward in a pout that was downright frightening. “Connor pays no attention to me.”

Now Matt understood what was going on. Lena was the type of woman who, after finding herself married to an older man, worried whether or not she was still attractive to the rest of the male population. If he let on he found her attractive and flirted with her a little, sooner or later she’d give up.

“Connor must be crazy, then,” he said. “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

She threw herself into his arms. Matt staggered backward. His hip struck the edge of the table, and the pot of soup slid a few sloppy inches. Then Lena attached herself to his lips, and he was too astonished to do more than grab her to steady himself.

She finally let him up for air, but Lena wasn’t looking ready to back off. Instead, she was staring behind him. Her face warned Matt that things were about to become more awkward, not less. When he turned around to look, he wished he’d been prepared for exactly how awkward things would prove to be.

“We must have the wrong house.”

The short, plump woman who spoke could only be Eve’s mother. She had the same hair, although hers was streaked with gray, and the same chocolate-colored eyes. She even stared at Matt with the same cool expression Eve adopted when she was displeased.

It was obvious that Mrs. Doucette knew full well she wasn’t in the wrong house. And the forbidding man behind her had to be Eve’s father.