Desire by Design (10 page)

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.