Desire by Design (14 page)

With a sudden deft twist of her body, Eve had Marcel flat on his back, one knee on his chest, her other pressed into his throat. Matt peered down into Marcel’s face from over Eve’s shoulder.

“Was that tough enough for you?” Matt asked.

“Get off your brother, Eve,” her mother called out from beneath a twisted apple tree where she’d been chatting with some relatives. “He’s got a bad back.”

“And lousy reflexes,” Alain added in an aside to Matt, apparently unaware that Matt wasn’t seeing the humor. “Don’t know what the RCMP sees in him if a woman can take him out like that. I think he’s ready for a desk job.”

Eve scrambled to her feet, pushing a strand of hair away from her flushed face.

“And I think Matt’s ready for a break,” Cyril said to Eve, although his watchful eyes remained on Matt. “Why don’t we let someone else play for a while?”

“I don’t need a break,” Matt said.

Eve looked from her brother to Matt, suddenly seeming to notice that something was wrong.

“I need one,” Eve said to Matt. “I could use something to drink. Why don’t you join me?”

Her shirt was sticking to her skin, there were flecks of dirt and grass clinging to her legs, and her hair was a mess. Matt had never been so attracted to a woman in his life.

That was the trouble. His feelings for Eve were a whole lot more complicated than he’d bargained for. This caveman mentality—the primeval part of him that wanted to kill anyone who touched her—wasn’t something he was comfortable with. He was used to being in control of both his life and his emotions, but since he’d met Eve, there had been nothing but chaos.

Maybe he’d better take that break after all. At the moment, he didn’t feel much like letting anyone kick his butt. Not when he felt like kicking it himself.

Eve followed him off the field, and the soccer game resumed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

She really didn’t know…

Matt took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. He hated losing his temper, and he hated her brothers for making him. But, more than anything, he was angry with himself. He’d almost decked her brother during a soccer game. As weird and twisted as the game was.

Matt had always wanted to be a part of a big, noisy family that gathered for anniversaries and organized things like soccer games, but this business of trying to kill each other was too crazy for him. Not much wonder she didn’t know anything about romance. Look what she had for examples.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said.

They stopped at the table with the drinks on it, then crossed to the blankets where Eve’s mother was sitting.

Eve tried to lag behind, but Matt caught her fingers and pulled her with him. If she tried to get into that soccer game again, he was tossing her into the car and driving her straight back to the city.

“Come meet Eve’s cousins,” Therese welcomed him. “Isabel, Jeanne, this is Eve’s boyfriend, Matt.”

Eve made a strangling noise low in her throat, like she was choking on a breath mint or something equally small, as Matt shook hands with the women. The first was Jeanne, a pretty enough woman, although her face was too sharp for Matt’s liking. She was married to the round-bellied man he’d seen earlier crushing a beer can on his forehead, the one who was now playing soccer but hanging back out of harm’s way.

Smart man.

“I’m the architect on Eve’s new project,” Matt said, turning on the charm. The women in the family had to be better than the men.

“Dating the boss, are you?” Jeanne said to Eve.

Matt’s charm slipped a notch. “You’ve got that backwards. I’m the one who’s dating the boss.” Eve’s family already thought she could kick his butt, so what difference did it make if they thought she was his boss, too?

“We aren’t dating,” Eve said.

That did it. Matt was putting an end to Eve treating him like a stranger, especially in front of her family. They had an unusual relationship, true, but they were more than friends, and he was staking his claim, right here and now.

He slung his arm around her shoulders and kept it clamped in place so she couldn’t shrug him off. “Technically speaking, no, we’re not. We’re living together.”

One fossilized, gray-haired aunt raised lacquered eyebrows in evident disapproval. “Any possibility of marriage?”

Since that particular aunt seemed to be the mother of the woman whose husband had a fondness for beer cans and sleazy T-shirts, Matt didn’t see what right she had to judge Eve’s living arrangements.

“No,” Eve said.

“It’s just as well,” the beer-can basher’s wife said. “This way, you won’t have to worry about whether or not to send back the wedding gifts.”

The comment was more humorous than nasty, but the white marks around Eve’s mouth told Matt she’d felt it, so he felt it, too. Didn’t anyone in this family realize that her marriage had hurt her? Didn’t any of them care that she wasn’t as tough as they all—men and women included—seemed to think she was? She was only human.

“That’s what I love most about Eve,” he said. “She’s more of a doer than a talker. She might not like admitting to them, but when she makes mistakes, she does something about it.” Unlike Jeanne, who seemed content to hang in there with the beer-can crusher forever, although Matt wasn’t sure she was the one who’d made the mistake in that relationship.

His eyes fastened on Eve’s. “And she never makes the same one twice.”

…

Sitting cross-legged on a blanket beside Matt, Eve laced a blade of grass through her fingers and tried not to be too charmed by his words of defense.

He’d meant well. She appreciated the effort. But thanks to his good intentions, her family was reading far too much into their relationship. Her cousins were probably already placing bets on how long the marriage would last.

“Matt lives in Toronto,” she said. “He’s renting a room from me until City Hall is finished.” She smiled at Jeanne. “So we won’t have to worry about returning wedding gifts.”

“Really?” Jeanne said.

Eve wasn’t sure she liked the speculation creeping into Jeanne’s beady, off-center eyes. This was so like her cousin. Whatever Eve had, or did, Jeanne had to diminish it in some way.

At least the soccer game was wrapping up.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” Matt said to Eve.

She wondered if she was in trouble. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him. “Can it wait?”

“No. It’s business.” He hauled her to her feet. “Excuse us, ladies.”

“I don’t think they’re going off to pick out china patterns,” Eve heard Jeanne murmur in satisfaction to Eve’s aunt.

Matt marched Eve around the corner of the garage and trampled a fragrant patch of clover in his path. A swallow swooped under the garage eaves, disappearing into a crevice.

“Do you hate me?” he asked once they were safely out of earshot.

“Hate you?” she echoed. Her mind went blank. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because that’s the only reason I can think of for why you’re trying to sabotage me, here.” He caught her chin in his hand so that she was forced to look at him. “Either that, or I think you’re afraid that if they like me, you won’t have any reason not to like me, too.”

She concentrated on the fingertip-sized indent at the peak of his upper lip. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she felt the tiny pulse below her jaw leap beneath his fingers, which were still cupping her chin. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

“Then name three things that you like about me,” he challenged her. “Because I’m beginning to wonder if you hate all men or if it’s just me. Not that I’d blame you if it’s all of us,” he added. “I’ve seen enough of your brothers to know why you’d feel that way. I just think it’s something you should work on, and I’m willing to help you practice.”

“You’re crazy,” Eve said. “I don’t hate men. I work with men all the time. I certainly don’t hate my brothers. And I don’t hate you, either.”

Matt smiled into her eyes. “Prove it. Three things.”

“Are we talking physical, professional, or personal?” she hedged.

“Let’s make it simple,” he said. “One of each.”

“Okay.” Eve thought a moment. “Physical, then. Your nose.”

“My
nose
?”

“You asked what I like. You didn’t say I needed to explain it,” Eve replied. “Professional,” she continued. “I like your briefcase. And personal. I really like those navy blue boxer briefs you wear. Really.”

“Let me get this straight,” Matt said. “You like my nose, my briefcase, and my underwear? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Let’s see you do better.”

“Easily.” Matt released her chin, then wrapped her snugly in his arms so that she had to tip her head back to look up at him. Her heart tripped a little faster. “I like the way your dark, sexy eyes light up whenever I walk into a room.”

“They do not,” Eve said. Although to be honest, she kind of liked the sound of
dark
and
sexy
when linked with her eyes.

“Quiet,” he ordered, his arms tightening around her. “This is my fantasy.”

“I’d like to file a protest. You never said we were allowed to fantasize. That’s cheating.”

“I’m about to cross your ‘docile nature’ off the ‘personal’ list,” Matt warned.

“You have a
list
?”

“Of course. To continue…” He lowered his mouth and pressed a kiss to the soft swell of her throat. “I like the way you smell. Flowery. A little sweaty at the moment, but definitely still girly.”

“Is my smell professional or personal?” Eve asked.

“I’m still on physical.” He touched the tip of his tongue to her ear lobe. “And the way you taste. Mm. ‘Sugar and spice and everything nice.’ I like that, too.”

Matt won. Hands down. But Eve wasn’t about to tell him so until he was finished.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance. She heard one of her brothers calling his name, and she wriggled free from his arms.

“Excuse me.” Cyril strode around the corner of the garage, holding up Matt’s cell phone. “Oddly enough, it’s for you.”

“Thanks.” Matt took the phone with a distinct lack of enthusiasm and walked toward the house, searching for a spot with better reception.

“You’re a guy,” Eve said to Cyril. “What would you find romantic?”

A pained expression cartwheeled across her brother’s face. “Why ask me? Why not read a magazine or something?”

“That would be my preference, but since I don’t have any handy, I’m stuck with you.”

Cyril studied her. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I really do.” There was no point in denying it any longer. “A lot.”

“Then try sharing something with him.”

“You mean, like sex? Because that’s what I’m trying to accomplish, here.”

Cyril’s face flushed a dull brick-red. “I figured that out already, and I don’t need the details, thanks. But I meant, like a secret. A hope or a dream. Something you’ve never shared with anyone else.” He stuck his hands in his shorts pockets. “Oh, yeah. And next time? You might want to let him flatten Marcel for you instead of doing it yourself.”

“Matt would never flatten anyone,” Eve said with absolute conviction. “He’s too nice.”

“If you say so,” Cyril said, without any conviction at all. “But remember, there are other ways to flatten a guy than by hitting him. You might want to think about that, too.”

Chapter Twelve

Matt’s curiosity was piqued by the armload of blankets Eve was carrying to her car.

It was getting late, and the Doucette family reunion was finally winding down. He rested a shoulder against the weathered support of the veranda as the sounds of the few guests who remained inside the house drifted through the open windows into the still night air. He could hear the sounds of the Bay of Fundy not far off. City boy that he was—and a mainlander—to him it sounded like the static of a radio station gone off air.

“Need some help?” he asked Eve.

She waved him off without looking at him, although her cheeks reddened noticeably in the soft glow of the yard light. Her hair was long and loose, the way he liked it, curling down the slender line of her back. A corner of one blanket trailed in the dirt behind her.

Matt’s heart trailed along with it. If she ever wanted him even a fraction as much as Matt wanted her, he’d consider himself a lucky man.

“I can manage.” She tossed the blankets into the back of her car then looked up at him with a challenge in her pretty eyes. She fixed a hand on her hip. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

Whatever she was planning, it had something to do with him. Matt bit the inside of his cheek to hide his satisfaction. He loped down the steps, his long legs taking them two at a time.

“I wouldn’t miss this.”

The moon was bright and full and yellow, lighting their path as they drove down the narrow, winding dirt road that dipped from her parents’ home to a deserted beach strewn with rocks and boulders. The waters of the bay stroked against the night sky—gleaming obsidian beneath black velvet.

Eve parked at the breakwater and turned off the engine. “The tide’s out,” she said. “Good thing, because I never thought to check the schedule.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Yes.” She slanted a look at him. “The Bay of Fundy has the highest recorded tides in the world. When it’s in, there isn’t any beach. And it comes in fast.” She opened her car door and took off her shoes. “Do you want to bring the blankets?”

Blankets, a beautiful woman, and a moonlit, deserted beach. All signs indicated he was being romanced. He crossed his fingers.

The night air was cool and fresh, and tasted like salt. Seals barked off in the distance. Matt took off his shoes and followed after Eve, the blankets bundled in his arms.

Skipping nimbly from rock to rock, she quickly outdistanced him. She wobbled once, and he held his breath until, with arms outstretched, she righted herself. It was so typical of her—to go running ahead without a thought for danger, not waiting to see if maybe he might like to hold her hand to make sure she was safe.

A large, flat boulder, tilted at one end like a table with two shortened legs, jutted out from the cliff wall. She clambered up, then turned to laugh at his slower progress as he picked his way carefully toward her by the pale light of the moon. A slight breeze lifted her hair.

Matt stopped to enjoy the sight of her. She looked so happy and carefree, and he wondered if he could design a house that would do justice to this image, and how he felt at this moment. Eve might not care for his art, but she knew how his mind worked because hers worked the same way. She’d understand the message he was trying to convey in the design.

It took him a second to figure out what that message was.

When he did, Matt closed his eyes and tried to start breathing again. He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t wanted it. He hadn’t planned to fall in love with Eve…but he had. He hoped he wouldn’t be stupid enough to blurt that out at the worst possible moment, because she clearly wasn’t ready for it.

Eve might know how to say what was on her mind, but when it came to what she felt in her heart, actions spoke louder than words. Tonight was her message to him, a first step on her part, and he didn’t want to do or say anything to frighten her off.

He paused below her, then handed up the blankets. The surf pounded behind them, while the wind sighed through the trees at the top of the cliff. She touched his cheek with one cold, wet toe.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

That she looked like a siren in the moonlight, luring him onto the rocks and toward certain destruction.

But oh, baby, what a way to go.

Instead of answering her question, he hoisted his frame up beside her. The boulder was smooth beneath his hands and still warm from the day’s heat. He wrapped a blanket around them both, then took her face in his palms. She closed her eyes, and he kissed them each in turn. The small breath she expelled was warm against his throat as desire washed over him.

His fingers trickled to the neck of her blouse and trembled, nearing the first button. He hesitated, waiting for a protest, but she made no sound. He slid the small, smooth orb from the fabric, then drifted on to the next one—and the next. A cloud skimmed across the moon, plunging their tiny world into a pool of inky darkness.

He had no idea what he should do next or what she might like. All he knew was what she didn’t want, and what she didn’t want was forever.

He told himself to go slow, to be careful not to scare her, not to leap on her and kiss every inch of her he could reach.

Not yet, anyway.

She stroked the backs of her fingers along the side of his cheek. He turned his head slightly and kissed her knuckles.

“You have an amazing face,” she said, tracing his lips. “It’s like one of your designs. All smooth curves over reinforced steel.”

“You hate my designs.”

“Not all of them,” she said, with that touch of honesty he found so appealing. “And I do like your face.”

“Especially my nose, right?”

“Among other things. You aren’t the only one who can have a list.”

He slipped his hands inside her shirt and against the warmth of her bare flesh, feeling the sudden leap of her heart. She clutched at him and drew him closer, the tip of her tongue tasting the V at the base of his neck. His own heart quickened.

“Do you want this, Eve?” He hated that he had to ask.

“Yes…I do.” Her words were husky and laced with the same desire that Matt himself fought so hard to control. He buried his face in her hair.

“Then ask me for it,” he demanded softly. He knew she was afraid of commitment. He supposed that was to be expected, considering everything that had happened in her life. He didn’t, however, want her to be afraid with him. Nor did he want to be the only one feeling something special. Was there a chance that Eve might learn to love him? Or was he foolish to think they might someday have more between them than the casual affair she claimed to want?

For what seemed like forever, there was silence. Then, her hands glided gently over him. “Let me show you.”

“Not yet.” Matt captured the corner of her soft mouth with a light touch from his own. “First, I have to hear you say it.”

She drew back slightly, and he decided he was nuts to make her ask. What would he do if she refused?

“I want this, Matt…please.” Her voice was low, steady, and certain against his chest.

The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, only to disappear again a few seconds later. The ice-cold fingers that had curled around his heart slowly eased their grip as she slipped her arms around his waist and held him tight.

They spread the blankets over the hard rock, then undressed slowly, punctuating their progress with little kisses in out-of-the-way places. Matt loved the feel of her. She was soft and silky, and melted into sighs when he touched her.

She rubbed the back of his leg with her foot, the rough friction only making him want her more. She trailed the tips of her fingers across his lips and jaw, then kissed his bare chest.

“Please,” she begged, and Matt drew her on top of him, his hands on her hips as he guided them together.

He should be embarrassed by how ready he was for her, but he’d waited too long and wanted her too much, and soon her cries of pleasure echoed with his.

…

They lay together for a long time afterward, listening to the sounds of the night and the beating of their hearts. Eve’s was tripping along like a jackhammer.

Matt kissed the side of her neck, and her nerve endings sent out thousands of tiny electric impulses. Her shoulder jerked in response.

“You’re ticklish.” He said it as if it were some wondrous discovery. He wrapped his arms and the blanket more tightly around her, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Are you cold?”

“No.” How could she possibly be cold? She snuggled in deeper. It was nice having him fuss over her. Waves lapped against the rocks. “I used to come here a lot when I was a teenager,” she said, trying to think of something about herself to share with him that wasn’t physical. He said nothing, but she could tell he was listening. “I’d lie here and look at the stars and dream about what I was going to do with my life.”

He stroked her back with long, gentle fingers, and she stretched, kitten-like, from her head to her toes.

“What things did you dream?”

She’d dreamed silly girl dreams. The kind where Prince Charming rode into town, declared his undying love, and whisked her away with him. Then Eve had discovered princes weren’t always charming, undying love could be creepy, and that she didn’t want to be whisked away. She wanted to walk on her own two feet.

“I can’t remember,” she said.

The stroke of his fingers turned into a gentle rub of the palm of his hand. “Dreams are supposed to be about your heart’s desire,” he whispered against her hair.

“My heart doesn’t have any desire.”

“Hmm,” he murmured.

She knew what was coming. She’d expected it long before this, but he wasn’t the type of person to invade someone else’s privacy without an invitation. By sleeping with him, she’d just given him one—gold-embossed, no less.

“Did your heart have desire when you were married?”

She didn’t want to think about her marriage. She wanted to put it all behind her, and for five years, she’d tried to do just that. But Cyril had suggested she share something with Matt she’d never shared with anyone else, and this would have to be it. She drew her arms up between them and hugged herself, feeling naked on the inside as well as out.

“Claude’s a marine biologist. I was so impressed with him when we first met. He was smart, and sweet, and said all the right things. I should have paid more attention to what he was doing, which was cutting me off from everyone I knew. I was a possession to him. He expected me to do whatever he said and got angry if I didn’t. For a long time, I thought he knew best because he was so much smarter and better educated than me.” She forced herself to be matter-of-fact. “The first time I really argued with him was when he wanted me to move to an island in the Pacific. He’d done all the paperwork without telling me, even took my passport. I said I wasn’t going, and he raised a hand to hit me. I broke his nose and gave him two black eyes. And now I have the dubious distinction of being the only Doucette ever to have gotten a divorce. My family is very proud of me. Perhaps you can tell?”

“And you never told your family because your brothers would have killed him.”

“Not really,” Eve said. She was honest with him. “I didn’t want anyone to find out how big a mistake I’d really made. I felt stupid.”

Matt rolled over on his side and pulled her with him, then kissed the tip of her nose. He stared down at her in the waning light of the moon. “Claude’s not the only one out there who knows how to manipulate people who trust him. That doesn’t make you stupid. And I don’t think you’ll hold your divorce-record distinction in the family forever. Not with those guys for brothers.”

Eve laughed. And then, she knew. If she could have the one thing her heart desired at this very moment, it would be Matt’s love. And if he gave her his, then she could give him hers. But never again was she going to offer something so valuable until she was sure she’d get it back.

“I’m sorry if tonight wasn’t romantic enough for you,” she said. “But this is the best I could do.”

He ran his finger down the curve of her cheek. “It’s better than enough.” He pulled them both to a sitting position. “But I think right now, we’re going to have to move to higher ground. My feet are getting wet.”

“Your feet?” Eve grabbed his arm and tried to peer over the side of the boulder into the darkness beyond. Suddenly, the lapping of the waves sounded all too close. She stretched down her fingers and felt sprays of water, then frantically patted the rock around them.

“Matt? Where are our clothes?”

It was worth the loss of their clothes to hear her laughter, but next time—and Matt seriously hoped there would be a next time—he was going to make sure that nothing got knocked off their perch.

On the bright side, at least they still had the blankets.

“Hurry,” she urged, preparing to slip into the black, frothy water. “We’ve got to get to the breakwater before the tide comes all the way in.”

They picked their way over slippery rocks covered in sharp barnacles that scratched their feet. The icy saltwater itched Matt’s skin and soon made his lower body go numb.

“This water’s cold!” He didn’t bother mentioning which part of him found it the coldest.

“Tell me about it,” Eve said.

Matt could hear her teeth chattering. The water wasn’t deep, but each wave submerged her to the waist before receding. She’d draped one of the blankets around her neck to try and keep it dry. He carried the other two around his own.

A slimy object wrapped around his ankle, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered him, but in the darkness it was decidedly unsettling. He hoped it was seaweed.

He could see the breakwater outlined against the night sky, and just above it, moonlight glinting off the side of the car. He steadied her elbow, helping her stay upright against the determined tug of the undertow. “It’s not much farther.”

They reached the car without any serious missteps, thank goodness. All Matt could think about was getting Eve warm.

“Give me the keys,” he said. “I’ll start the car and crank the heater up for you.”

She clutched a blanket around herself, shivering. “I don’t have the keys. They were in my pocket.”