Desire by Design (12 page)

“I’m almost thirty years old. I can make whatever choices I want,” she said. “Besides, I won’t be ‘settling down’ with Matt. Our relationship is a working one.” How much plainer could she make it?

Eve’s father spoke up. “I didn’t like him.”

Indignation on Matt’s behalf pricked Eve. How could her father make such a snap decision? What wasn’t to like?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, thumping her glass on the table. “Matt’s a wonderful person.” She warmed to her topic. “He’s thoughtful and kind and generous. If you’re basing your judgment on what you thought you saw last night, you’re dead wrong. He was too polite to tell my boss’s wife to leave him alone because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. And he’s not involved with her, either,” she added for good measure. What century were her parents raised in, anyway? Didn’t they know that a woman could be…proactive?

What a great word. It covered a lot of territory.

“That woman was your boss’s wife?” Her mother’s horrified expression gave Eve the uneasy feeling she’d just buried Matt’s good name instead of clearing it. This was why she normally never bothered explaining anything to her. Explanations only ever made things worse.

Her father, usually the quiet one and without too much to say, gave Eve an odd, speculative look.

“I was referring to Claude.”

Eve slumped in her seat. She knew that look. Now her father thought she wanted Matt.

Unfortunately, her father was right.

…

Matt snapped his laptop shut and looked around the crowded airport lounge.

Fogged in. Totally socked. He’d known when he’d hired the cab from the city that he was wasting his time going to the airport, but the thought of spending another night with his uncle, listening to conspiracy theories about Eve, was too much. Why couldn’t his uncle see that, with her blunt opinions, she wasn’t cut out for intrigue?

Spending the night at Halifax International Airport wasn’t appealing, either, though. Matt really only had two options: he could head back to the city and try and find a hotel room, or he could stay at the airport hotel along with hundreds of other stranded, testy passengers.

But he missed Eve and was itching to call her, wanting to hear her voice.

Wanting her.

He checked the time. It was getting late. Why should he wait around the airport for the fog to lift, or head over to some lonely hotel room, when he could sneak back to Eve’s house and sleep on her floor—okay, he was hoping in her bed, but he’d let her make the call on that—and be gone in the morning before her parents even knew he’d been there?

He just wanted to be with her, to make sure she was safe.

Matt gathered his belongings and went in search of a cab.

He tried to be as quiet as possible as he let himself in and disengaged the alarm system. So far, so good. Everyone seemed to be asleep.

He tiptoed up the stairs and knocked on the bedroom door, firmly but not too loud, listening hard. He didn’t want to wake her parents.

Nothing.

He had to admit, the whole situation was a bit of a turn-on. He hadn’t been the type of teenager to sneak around and get into trouble when he was growing up. He’d spent all his time getting good grades so he’d get into the best schools.

Yes, Matt guessed he really was boring. But things were about to change.

He eased the bedroom door shut behind him. The room was in complete darkness. She must have pulled the shades, because not even the streetlights from outside filtered through. He stumbled to the bed and reached down to give her shoulder a shake, remembering how hard she could be to waken.

“Eve,” he whispered.

The softness his hand encountered told him immediately that this wasn’t a shoulder he was shaking. Before he knew what was happening, a fist connected with his eye. Pain exploded around his cheek and nose. He staggered back, swearing. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

The light flickered on, and two people stared up at him from the bed. Eve’s mother flapped her hand as if her fingers stung. Matt opened his mouth, then shut it again. What could he possibly say to explain this?

Eve’s father was the one who finally broke the silence.

“How was Toronto?” he asked.

…

“I told you,” Eve said. “My parents like my mattress better. My mother worries about Dad’s back.”

She doubted if Matt would appreciate her bursting out laughing, so the less said on the matter the better. Besides, she had a certain amount of sympathy for him. Her mother was tough. All five feet of her.

Matt straddled a kitchen chair and rested his chin on its high back while she stood between his knees and applied an ice pack to his swelling eye. The soft glow from the light over the kitchen sink created long shadows on the ceramic tiles and into the far corners of the room.

She held the pack in one hand and cupped the back of his head with the other. She wanted to curl her fingers into the thickness of his hair, to plant kisses along the hard edge of his cheek.

She concentrated on the ice pack instead. “How come you came home so early? I thought you’d be gone for a few days.”

“Fog. And I wasn’t trying to grope your mother,” he added.

“I never said you were.”

“I wasn’t trying to grope you, either.”

“I never even considered the possibility.”

“You’re awfully calm about this.” He glared up at her with his good eye. Eve smiled back.

“Welcome to my world,” she said, thinking how appealing he was when he was upset. “With three brothers, people were sneaking in and out of our house at all hours.” She didn’t add that she’d been the worst offender. “My parents are used to it.”

“Are they used to someone touching your mother’s…um…”

“That’s a new one,” Eve admitted, biting her lip. She wished she could have seen it. Matt—of all people—sneaking into her parents’ bedroom in the dark and touching her mother’s breast. He’d need therapy to recover from this.

He took the ice pack from her hand. “You seem to be enjoying this more than you should.”

She grabbed it back and leaned forward, reapplying it to his eye. Matt might pretend to be all business, but inside, he was really very sensitive. She wanted to wrap her arms around him.

There was nothing to stop her. He’d had a bad day, and she could sympathize with that. She’d had her fair share of days where she could have used someone to lean on, and so far, Matt hadn’t hesitated to lend her his support when he could.

She tossed the ice pack onto the table and slid her arms around his neck. He burrowed his head beneath her chin, the warmth of his breath spreading through the flimsy fabric of her nightdress, and she rubbed her cheek against his hair. He said nothing at first, seeming content just to feel her breathe, then sighed as he traced light circles on her hips with his thumbs, smoothing the thin fabric of her nightgown between his fingers.

Yes, Eve wanted him, and funny, wanting him didn’t seem quite so scary when he touched her this way.

“I’d hoped your parents might like me,” he said.

He shouldn’t have to care what her parents thought. The conversation had the potential for becoming too serious, and Eve didn’t want serious.

“At least you and my mother are getting to know each other better,” she joked, trying to keep things light.

“Very funny.”

Kneeling down in front of him and taking his face with its stubbly five-o’clock shadow between her hands, she looked him straight in his blue, blue eyes. Well, one blue eye. The other one was swollen and red.

“You might as well know now. My parents are never going to like you,” she told him. “That’s why I do. And I’m not afraid to admit it.”

She gave him a light kiss, intending it to be funny, but something fell flat. The truth was, she liked Matt too much. The kind of
too much
that made her worry things might change, and that she was in danger of having too much of a good thing.

Matt laughed, sighed, then caught her lips with a feathery touch from his own. His hands stroked her forearms. “Wow. I’ve never been the boy a girl’s parents objected to before.”

“Stick with me, baby,” Eve said, “and I can make you objectionable to everyone you know.” She’d meant that to be funny, too, but she really wasn’t very good at diplomacy. She said what she meant, often without thinking, and she didn’t see herself fitting easily into Matt’s circle of acquaintances because of it.

She needed to relax. It wasn’t as if she and Matt had to decide where they’d spend Christmas. They could enjoy each other for the next few months—maybe—and if one of them got tired before the project ended, Matt could always move back into a hotel.

His fingers tightened on her arms, and she saw the pulse leap on the underside of his jaw. His throat worked, his eyes never leaving her face. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Oh, I think I do,” she said.

She kissed him then, with all the desire she could pour into it, touching her tongue to his lips, parting them, exploring deeper, until they both were fighting for air. He tasted like coffee and mint chocolate.

He drew back, looking stunned, then took her waist in both hands and lifted her onto his knee. She flung an arm around his neck and held on, gripping the front of his shirt with her free hand.

“Matt! Your leg.”

“My leg is fine.” He held her chin. “Thank you, Eve.”

Before she could ask him what for, he took her mouth in another kiss that could best be described as
hungry
. Heat blossomed and spread throughout her body. She clung to him, dimly aware that one of his hands had slipped past the hem of her nightgown and that she sat, nearly naked, on his lap.

This was a bad idea. Her parents were upstairs, probably wide-awake and waiting for her to come back to bed.

So what if they were? She was an adult, and this was her home. Still, maybe she and Matt should consider moving this behind closed doors.

She caught hold of his wrists but didn’t try and break the kiss. Matt did that all on his own.

“Don’t tell me. Your parents.” His expression was rueful as he glanced upward. He kissed her again, briefly, then let her go with a great show of reluctance. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“You’ll sleep in your own room, but it wouldn’t hurt you to share your bed,” Eve said. “I don’t snore.”

He half laughed, half groaned. “Don’t do this to me,” he said. “I want to do things right.”

“I thought you were doing everything right already,” she replied. “I don’t think you can get it any more right.”

“I don’t want to start off with your parents hating me. If I sleep on the sofa, they might warm up to me eventually.”

A cold feeling washed over her. That sounded ominous, like he planned on being around for a while. But anything beyond the present was more of a commitment than she was prepared to make. She wanted to be clear on that. People changed when they became too committed. She didn’t want him to think he had a right to tell her what to do, or think, or wear. She didn’t want him to change. She liked him the way he was.

And she didn’t want anyone trying to change her.

“They won’t need to warm up to you,” she said as gently as she could, considering it was hard to be gentle when her stomach was waging a raging battle with panic. She tried to stand up, to put some distance between herself and Matt, but he gripped her thigh. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She pried his fingers off her leg and stood up. Matt stood, too, towering over her and making her more nervous. She wet her lips. Why did she feel like she was about to suggest something he wasn’t going to like?

“It means, if we’re to keep things casual, we shouldn’t plan on getting too friendly with each other’s families. It would complicate things too much.”

“I see,” Matt said. His face went stony in the dim light. “Casual.”

The refrigerator hummed quietly behind her.

“I don’t do commitment very well.” Eve tried hard not to be embarrassed at having to explain something so obvious.

For a moment, Matt said nothing.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he finally said, picking up the ice pack from the table and dropping it into the sink where it landed with a wet, squishy thud, “to stop and think that maybe your lousy marriage wasn’t your fault?”

About a million times.

“Of course, it wasn’t completely my fault,” she said. “But it takes two people to make a marriage, and neither one of us held up our end.”

This was it. She braced herself. He was going to tell her to forget it. She could handle the rejection, but she wished she hadn’t been quite so open about what she was offering. She’d asked him to share his bed with her. How subtle was that?

“Okay,” Matt said.

Oh, no.
What had she done?

“Are you sure?” she asked, then cursed herself for being stupid enough to ask for confirmation. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Why would she give him an opportunity to change his mind? Part of her hoped he’d back out, because another part of her began to get scared.

“I’m sure.” He leaned over her and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “We’ll do casual, Eve, if that’s what you really want. But,” he added, “you’re going to have to romance me for it.”

Chapter Ten

Matt couldn’t be serious.

“You mean, as in flowers and candy?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit more than she liked.

Humor crept into his one functioning eye. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’ve seen your opinion of men giving you flowers. You can do better than that.”

No, she couldn’t. Didn’t her failed marriage tell him anything about her and her romantic abilities?

“This is a joke, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking to you?”

He definitely didn’t look like he was joking. With the one closed eye, the rumpled clothes, and the fierce set to his lean face, he seemed perfectly serious.

Way too serious. Sort of a sexy serious.

“I’m not romancing you,” she said.

“Why not?” he challenged her. “If a man wants a casual relationship with a woman, he’s expected to figure out what she likes and romance her at least a little for it. If you want casual, why shouldn’t you be expected to romance me?”

Now Eve was confused. Was he telling her he wasn’t all that interested in her, so if she was interested in him, she’d have to do all the work?

“Forget it. Forget the whole thing.” Eve wished she could, too.

“I think I’m starting to see your problem,” Matt said. “Your marriage was a twisted relationship, that much is obvious—and no way would I ever suggest you should have stuck it out—but it affected you more than you want to let on. So now, when relationships get too difficult for you, you just walk away.”

His gaze narrowed. “Well, guess what? I’m going to make this real easy for you. I’m yours if you want me, for however long you want me. But you have to make me feel special first. And that means romancing me.” He started for the hall. “I’ll be sleeping on the air mattress, and I’m setting it up in the living room. But where I sleep after this weekend is up to you.”

…

An early morning mist hung low over the neighborhood on Monday. Up and down the street, doors opened and closed and cars started as people got ready for work. Eve reached down and yanked a patch of dew-slickened dandelion leaves from her lawn, pitched them underhand onto the driveway in the direction of the compost container, then wiped her hand on her jeans.

The two men were packing the car, chatting like friends.

Matt canceled the flight to Toronto and had spent his entire Sunday doing his best to win over her parents—and with amazing results. It hadn’t taken them long to forget both Lena and the breast-grabbing incident.

Because Matt would never dream of walking away from anything difficult. He liked a challenge.

And her mother was certainly a challenge.

She stood beside Eve on the short concrete walkway leading from the steps to the street. They both searched for something to say.

“I like your young man,” her mother said. “We didn’t get off to the best start, but you were right. He’s nice.”

“He’s not my young man.”

“He could be.”

“Didn’t you have someone you wanted me to meet?” Eve asked, anxious to throw her mother off the scent. When it came to man-hunting for Eve, her mother morphed into a bloodhound.

Her mother smoothed her hair into place, then adjusted her starched white blouse. “I did. But he was no one special.”

But at some point she’d thought him special enough for Eve. “You know, after thinking about it, I’m not one hundred percent sure Matt and Lena don’t have something going on between them,” Eve said. “It’s a little odd my boss’s wife would be over here when I’m not around, don’t you think?”

“She’s no competition for you, sweetheart. From what I saw, you’re much prettier.” Her mother looked her over carefully. “At least you would be if you fixed yourself up a little and maybe did something with your hair.”

Mothers were the reason for the term “justifiable homicide.” Eve cut her off before she could launch into any more self-improvement tips.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” she warned. “Matt’s mother’s been married five times, and I don’t think it’s made him view marriage very favorably.” Not to mention, Eve wasn’t thrilled with the institution herself.

“There’s something to be said for living together,” her ultra-traditional mother said. “You and Matt can take your time getting to know each other. You need to get to know Matt’s goals. That’s what you said went wrong with Claude—you didn’t really know what you both wanted in life.”

“Matt and I aren’t living together,” Eve said, still trying to recover from the shock of hearing her mother—
her mother
—encouraging her to live with a man.

“Oh, no?” Her mother began to count on her fingers. “He cooked us breakfast. He has a key to your house. There are razor trimmings in your bathroom sink.” She flashed a triumphant smile. “Call it what you will, but from where I stand, you two are living together.”

Spots danced before Eve’s eyes, and the world faded in and out for a moment. Fortunately, Matt and her father appeared on the front doorstep then, saving her from the conversation.

Matt, dressed in a suit for a day at the office, picked up her parents’ suitcase and loped easily across the tiny front yard. He hoisted the suitcase into the car’s open trunk.

Her heart did a crazy little tap dance. There was no doubt about it. She wanted him. But she wasn’t sure to what extent. Her heart couldn’t be trusted. It had been fooled before.

“And you’ll be coming home with Eve for our anniversary party?” her father was saying to Matt as the two men shook hands good-bye.

Eve froze. She didn’t want Matt to meet the rest of her family. Hadn’t the Tinker Bell story suggested anything to him?

“Matt’s a busy man,” she interrupted. “He doesn’t have the time to waste on a three-hour drive. That’s three hours one way,” she added for Matt’s benefit.

“I think I can work it into my schedule.” His eyes gleamed, and he shot her a look that dared her to argue with him.

No, no, no
.

“It’s not a formal party like you’re used to. More of a reunion. Most of the family is Acadian,” she tried next, desperate to find something—anything—to make him change his mind. “A lot of them don’t like speaking English.”

“You’d be surprised what kinds of parties I’ve been to. And I speak French,” Matt said.

Of course he did.

“My brothers will try and treat you like one of the family,” she warned. “Trust me. You don’t want that.”

Instead of being put off, Matt seemed fascinated. “I’ve always wanted brothers. You’ve got, what—three?”

That answer pleased her parents as much as it worried Eve.

“You wouldn’t want these ones,” she said. Not if he wanted to live a long, healthy life. “They’re kind of rough. You know, physical.”

“It’s an anniversary party, not mortal combat.” Matt folded his arms across his chest, full of blissful, ignorant confidence. Eve pitied him.

Very well. He didn’t know what he was setting himself up for, but he’d brought this on himself. He couldn’t say she hadn’t tried to warn him. At least one good thing would come from this. Once he’d met the whole family, a casual relationship was all he’d want to pursue with her.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Wonderful!” Her mother’s face was beaming as she kissed Eve’s cheek. “It will be nice to have you visit. Both of you. You can introduce Matt to the whole family. We’ll see you on the weekend.”

“Exactly how much family do you have?” Matt asked Eve.

Eve smiled. “You should have asked that question first.”

She waved as her parents backed their car out of the drive, a funny little feeling in her throat. Spending a few days with them hadn’t been as hard as she’d expected it to be, but it hadn’t been wonderful, either. They disappeared around a corner, leaving her alone on the lawn with Matt.

And an empty house.

What she’d proposed in the darkness of night now seemed so…sordid in the bright light of day. She was such an idiot sometimes. How could they keep things casual when they were living together? How romantic could she be? How romantic did she want to be?

She plopped onto the steps, dropping her elbows to her knees and her head to her hands, suddenly unable to face the thought of entering that empty house with a man who made her forget everything but the way she felt. And the way she felt right now scared her. All she had to do was look at him in his custom-made suit, to smell his aftershave, to melt beneath those intense blue eyes, and she knew they weren’t right for each other. When they were alone and he was kissing her…touching her…she could forget everything and everyone else. But when she tried to envision the two of them together, the way other people must see them…

What a contrast they must make. Eve’s idea of dressing up for the office when there were no meetings scheduled meant she’d put on a stain-free blouse to go with her jeans and a pair of sandals instead of work boots. She studied her toes. She’d painted her nails Moroccan Plum. They looked nice, but they didn’t exactly scream elegance.

“What’s the matter?” Matt asked. He sat down beside her.

“I can’t romance you,” she said, glad she didn’t have to look at him when she said it. “Sorry. But I can’t think of a single romantic thing to do.”

“I’m really not all that hard to please,” he said. “It’s the thought that counts. What do you think of when you think of romantic?”

He inched closer, but he didn’t touch her. Eve wanted him to—and to touch him back. She wanted to lean into his chest, to find out if his fresh-shaven jaw was as smooth as it appeared, and to taste the swell of his full lower lip. She wished they weren’t having this discussion on her front steps, with her neighbors waving to them as they left for work, when they themselves had to be at work in another twenty minutes or so.

But better to have it here, now, out in the open, rather than inside with too much privacy.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Handcuffs? Plastic wrap?”

She heard him swallow. Great. He was trying not to laugh at her.

“I’m not saying no. Those might prove interesting. But maybe we should work up to them.” He gave her an all too brief hug, then a gentle shove. “We’re going to be late for work if we don’t get a move on.”

“That reminds me,” Eve said. “Where are the construction catalogs I brought home from the office?”

She swore she saw guilt on his face.

“Don’t change the subject.” He helped her to her feet, then looked into her eyes, softness and reassurance lurking in the deep ocean depths of his own. “Don’t worry so much, Eve. You’re going to figure out what’s romantic when you’re ready. And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

Good thing Matt seemed like such a patient man, because Eve was afraid he was going to have a very long wait.

But if she waited too long, he’d be gone.

…

For the rest of the week, Matt carried around a vivid mental image of how Eve might look dressed in clear, clingy wrap. Each time he conjured up the image, he pictured himself slowly unwrapping her—from the bottom up, taking his time, touching and tasting each part he exposed.

The short, butter-yellow sundress she’d chosen to wear for the long car ride to her parents’ house on Friday did nothing to hinder his fantasies.

Matt shifted in the passenger seat. So far, fantasies were all he had. Eve didn’t seem to know the difference between sex and romance, but she was going to have to learn soon because the wait was killing him and time was now at a premium. He couldn’t stay in Halifax forever.

Accepting the invitation to a family event because he’d wanted to tease her a little, and throw her off kilter, had been meant in good fun. He’d planned to back out at the last minute, using that preempted trip to Toronto as an excuse. But Eve had gotten quiet as the week went on, and he was learning to read the signs. This anniversary was important to her and he wanted it to go well. She needed moral support, but never in a million years would she ask for it.

He’d been informed of the basics for the weekend. Saturday was going to be a family day, more of a reunion than a formal party, with aunts, uncles, and cousins. Everyone but Eve lived in her parents’ neighborhood, and Eve’s brothers would arrive at the house in the morning to help out.

He had to confess, he was a little nervous about meeting them all at once. That Tinker Bell story implied a mob mentality that he hoped they’d outgrown.

“Is there anything I should know about your brothers before we arrive?” Matt asked.

“Have you ever played tackle soccer?”

“Is it like Australian football?”

“Sort of. But with fewer rules,” Eve said. She reached over and patted his knee. “But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

“Thanks,” Matt said.

It was early evening before they took the turn-off for the small village on the shore of the Bay of Fundy. The closer they got, however, the edgier she became. He worried that when they finally arrived he might have to pry her fingers off the steering wheel, which was ridiculous. She was lucky to have so much family to love her.

The temperature dropped several degrees as they left the highway. A few miles farther on, forests along the sides of the steadily climbing road gave way to giant rock slabs and scattered strands of scrubby, gnarled spruce trees stunted by the damp, salty air. Seagulls sailed high overhead.

They drove through a tiny village hugging the waterfront, then past a number of cottages sprinkled along the rock-ribbed cliffs. The gleaming blue waters of the Bay, peppered with whitecaps, dashed against the breakwater protecting the road.

Eve turned down a dirt lane. “This is it,” she said, coasting the car through a deep rut and into a potholed driveway. “Home sweet home.”

Home was a square, two-story house with a double-sloped, mansard-style roof and an attached garage. Matt bet the house, with its whitewashed, shingled siding and green trim, was around two-hundred years old, although the garage was probably only about fifty. There were one or two outbuildings, an ancient apple orchard, and a recently mowed hayfield behind the house.

She parked at the back and turned off the ignition, her fingers still on the key. “It’s not too late to make a run for it.” Then her parents stepped onto the sagging veranda, and a screen door flapped shut behind them. “Wait. Sorry. Yes, it is.”