Desire by Design (11 page)

“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.

Chapter Nine

Lena recovered faster than Matt.

She slapped his face before spinning on her heel, her head held high as she brushed past Eve’s parents.

Matt rubbed his stinging cheek, wishing that he could follow her and make as grand an exit. Sooner or later, however, he’d have to return.

He stared at the Doucettes. They stared back.

“You must be Eve’s parents.” He didn’t bother offering to shake hands, although he did make a feeble attempt at a smile. But the rigid expressions on their faces didn’t change, and his own smile tightened. “I’m Matt Brison, the architect for the new project Eve’s working on.” No response. What luck. Two more Doucettes who weren’t impressed by his name. “You must have had a long drive.” Although not nearly long enough, considering they were a day early. “Could I get you coffee or tea?” He dropped his hand to the top of the pot Lena had abandoned. “Or some soup?”

There was a definite chill in the air.

“No, thank you,” Mrs. Doucette said.

Eve, toting bags of groceries, bounced into the kitchen. She’d changed from the skirt and heels she’d worn to the office into her usual jeans and a T-shirt, which meant she’d likely come straight home after work before going out again. That made him feel better—he’d been worried.

“I see you’ve met my parents,” she said. “This is my mother, Therese, and my father, Giles. They arrived early, so we went out to pick up food for the weekend.” She set the bags on the table, ignoring the tension in the room. “I ran into Lena on her way out. What did she want?”

If the sparkle in Eve’s eyes was anything to judge by, she was enjoying this. And if so, Matt wasn’t sharing her amusement. He doubted if there was anything he could say right now that would convince the senior Doucettes that he wasn’t some sort of serial sex offender.

Nothing he could think of off the top of his head.

“She brought soup,” Matt said.

Eve lifted the lid on the pot. “Mm. Turkey. Wasn’t that nice of her? That’s one less meal we’ll have to worry about this weekend.”

Yeah. Real nice. Lena was a thoughtful woman. Didn’t Eve find it strange that her boss’s wife was dropping off a pot of soup?

“Eve, could I speak with you in the living room, please?” Matt said. He transmitted a look meant to let her know it wasn’t a request. “Now?”

Eve trailed him down the hall, and when they reached the living room, Matt slid the glass doors closed behind them. Where should he begin?

Just that afternoon, he’d had his hands—and his mouth—all over Eve. He’d spent the last several hours daydreaming about repeating the experience. He didn’t want her parents to be the ones to tell her what they’d just seen. He didn’t want her thinking he’d been touching another woman.

Okay, technically he had. But his intentions were good. Maybe not medal-winning good…

Matt steadied himself. He’d just say it straight out and get it over with, then he’d try and explain how it happened. “When your parents walked in, Lena had her hands on my, uh, backside—and it might have looked like I was trying to kiss her.”

“Wow,” Eve said. “That’s awful.” Her eyes welled, and she put a hand over her mouth.

Although it made him feel kind of good to know she cared enough to be upset, the last thing he wanted was to make her cry. He shifted uneasily. “I can explain.”

“Please.” Her voice was muffled. She waved him off with her free hand. “There’s no need to explain. I can picture it just fine.”

She wasn’t crying… She was laughing.

He felt his lips thin. He’d been caught in her house, with another woman in his arms, and she was
laughing
at him.

“Then would you mind explaining it to me?” he asked. “So I know we’re both clear on what happened?”

“Lena knows I often work late on Fridays, so she made up an excuse to come over, hoping you’d be alone. She came on to you because that’s what she does, and you tried to put her off without being mean about it. Because that’s what you do.” Eve smiled up at him, swiping her eyes with the heel of one hand. “Face it, Matt. You’re too nice, sometimes.”

Matt deflated like a beach ball with a slow leak. His uncle was right: he
was
boring. It seemed Eve thought so, too.

“Great. I’m a nice person. Could you tell your parents that?”

“They’re going to believe what they want to believe. Don’t worry about it.” Eve looked ready to burst out laughing again at any moment.

Matt wasn’t sharing the joke. A woman he wanted to be naked with thought he was nice. That was the equivalent of “Let’s be friends,” and Matt didn’t have too many friends he wanted to hear moaning his name—which was another thing he couldn’t understand. Eve was none of the things he’d ever desired in a woman. She wasn’t a leggy blonde. She wasn’t the least bit domestic. She was far more interested in work than she was in him.

To top it off, now she thought he was
nice
.

Yet all she had to do was look up at him with those big brown eyes that sucked the breath right out of his body, and he’d do just about anything she asked. Ever since he’d gotten to know her, he was like putty in her hands.

Uncle Bob was right when he’d said men did stupid things for beautiful women. Eve was so beautiful it hurt to think all she might ever want from him was to be his friend.

“I’m sorry, Matt, but you deserved it. You’re a bit of a flirt.” Some of the laughter seeped from her lovely face. “I know you don’t find this—”

“You don’t know anything,” he interrupted. He wasn’t a flirt. Not with anyone else. So, she’d had a bad marriage. While she still had some issues regarding that, and her ex-husband didn’t seem ready to let go, Eve had to move on. He’d been patient and understanding. It was time to get serious.

He hooked the front pocket of her hip-hugging jeans with a finger and drew her close until she was tight against him. She felt soft, not skinny as he’d first thought, and curvy in all the right places. His hand skimmed up her back until his fingers tangled in her mass of dark curls. It was time she realized exactly what his intentions were, and his intentions didn’t include anything so dull as friendship.

With one hand cradling her head and an arm twined firmly around her waist, Matt took her lips with his—and he didn’t try to be the least bit friendly about it. Instead, he tasted her with his tongue and his hands. The soft fabric of her T-shirt parted ways with the crisp denim of her jeans. His fingers blazed across the soft swell of her hip, gliding around and upward to rest with proprietary ease beneath the warmth of her breast. He wanted more—to get her T-shirt off, to see as well as touch. He needed to feel her bare skin against his.

He needed Eve.

She made a soft, husky, arousing little noise in the back of her throat that scattered his senses. Then, her hands tackled the buttons of his shirt. He lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around him, fiercely kissing him back. He buried his face in the clean scent of her, all no-nonsense soap and a faint trace of vanilla.

She’d pried enough buttons undone to be able to get her hands inside his shirt, and for a moment, he thought his heart might stop. This was it. Matt was going to make love to her, right here on the sofa. He wasn’t taking the time to get her upstairs. He’d never make it.

He stumbled slightly when he stooped to lay her on the cushions, his injured leg still too stiff for certain movements. As he did, he caught a shimmer of their reflections in the sliding doors.

Glass
doors.

Dear Lord. Was he really about to make love to Eve on the sofa where her parents could see them? For all he knew, they might have walked by already.

That thought worked faster than a cold shower.

Eve had him by the gaping sides of his shirt, tugging him toward her. Her T-shirt had slid up to expose the flat lines of her belly, a belly he would have given a kidney to be able to lean forward and press a kiss against.
Bad, bad idea.

She was rumpled, but at least she was still decent. Another minute and she wouldn’t have been.
Thank you, God, for small favors.

“I’m sorry,” he said, easing her shirt down inch by excruciating inch. She had no idea how sorry he was—the last thing he wanted to do right now was stop.

Correction. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her. The next time they reached this point, he’d make sure they were alone.

“Sorry?” Her eyes were wide and confused, like she’d been startled from a deep sleep. Or interrupted in the middle of making love. She had beautiful eyes. Deep, dark,
make love to me
eyes.

Matt fastened his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the uncooperative buttons. “Your parents are here,” he reminded her. He had enough of an ego to be pleased he’d made her forget about them, but he was intensely glad they hadn’t seen what he was trying to do to their daughter. He hoped. “They already think I’m a sex-crazed maniac. There’s no need to confirm their opinion.” He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “I’d better spend the night at my uncle’s.”

She had no idea why he’d want to spend the night at his uncle’s.

Neither could she make sense of what was going on. One minute she’d been laughing at the thought of Matt aggressively pursuing Lena, and the next she was flat on her back on the sofa.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said. For the second time that day, she’d pushed him too far. She tucked her T-shirt back in her jeans and struggled to find the right words to explain. “I’m a little too proactive.”

And with her parents in the next room, too.

He looked startled, then ran his hands through his dusky hair, his nearly translucent blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Proactive is good. Really good.”

That made her laugh, and just like that, her embarrassment faded. It made her like him a little bit more than she already did.

“You really are a nice person, Matt Brison,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her palm. Then he pulled her closer again. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “The only reason I’m going to my uncle’s tonight is because I refuse to get you naked with your parents in the house. Tomorrow, I have to fly to Toronto for a few days.” His hot, intense eyes scoured her in a way that left little doubt as to what he was thinking. “And when I come back, believe me, I’m going to prove to you that I am not a nice person. And Eve?”

Eve held her breath, wondering what was coming next.

He dipped his head and gave her a gentle kiss this time, instead of the hot, soul-searing one his eyes promised. “While I’m gone, please try to be careful. If you need me, just call. And if you can’t reach me, then call my uncle. I know you don’t like him a whole lot, but he’ll look out for you for me.” His eyes softened. “I’d really hate to have anything happen to you.”

Eve’s heart dissolved into a little puddle on the floor.

Something was happening to her already, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to identify it. Identifying it would mean having to think about the future.

And Eve wasn’t ready for that.

…

The next morning, Eve took her parents to a party rental agency so they could book tables, chairs, outdoor lighting, and a tent. After that, they went to lunch at a small restaurant in a nearby mall. The waitress handed them menus, told them the specials, then wrote her name on a sheet of brown paper with a crayon.

Eve wondered when they would bring up the subject of Matt. She knew it was coming, and she’d bet odds of ten-to-one that her mother would start the proceedings.

They placed their orders and talked about the weather until their food arrived. One of her cousins had joined the army. A great-uncle in Ontario she’d never met had passed away.

Her father spread butter on a roll.

“About your houseguest…” Her mother’s words trailed off, letting Eve know what she thought of the houseguest in question.

There it was. She loved her mother, but while they might share genes, in terms of personality they were poles apart—and Eve always felt hers came up short. She wasn’t traditional enough for her dainty, Acadian French mother.

She plunged her fork into her salad. “What about him?”

Her mother fingered her napkin. “He seems to have a fondness for women.”

“He can be as fond of them as he likes.” Eve shrugged, feeling a tiny pang. “We’re colleagues.” Another pang. “He’s renting a room from me while we work on a project. When the project ends, he’ll head back to Toronto.” And since she doubted if Halifax would ever need another Matt Brison building, it was unlikely their paths would cross again.
Pang, pang, pang
.

Her mother didn’t appear convinced. “You have a history of getting involved with men, then changing your mind. And I’m concerned about the choices you make.”

Whenever her mother was displeased with her, she alluded to Eve’s ill-fated marriage.

“For the thousandth time”—Eve blew out a breath of frustration—“Claude wanted to head off to an island in the South Pacific and study the life-cycle of some rare breed of shellfish. I didn’t want to live on an island without indoor plumbing or a doctor. We had different goals. I realized it too late.”

“Claude was a nice man.”

If her mother only knew. She dragged a home-cut french fry through a puddle of ketchup. “Trust me, Matt’s a much nicer man.”

Her mother’s eyebrows rose a notch, and she looked down her nose at Eve, no mean feat for a tiny little woman. “I thought you were colleagues?”

“He’s a
nice
colleague.” Of course, he’d said he intended to prove to her he wasn’t nice, and that he wanted to get her naked. Eve fidgeted in her seat. Her mother made her feel like a little girl. Matt made her feel like a woman. And Eve wasn’t ready for any of this. “Do you have a point you’re trying to make?” she asked.

Her mother folded her napkin and laid it beside her plate. “We’d love to see you settle down, but with the right man this time. We’re concerned you’re about to make another bad choice.”

Eve wasn’t about to make a bad choice, because she wasn’t going to make a choice at all. She and Matt weren’t involved in any permanent sense. Theirs would be a short-term arrangement, if anything. They both knew that. Eve took a sip of water. There wouldn’t be any long-term commitment for her parents, or anyone else, to worry about.