Desire by Design

by Paula Altenburg

  Please let that be Eve.

  Footsteps crunched in the gravel behind him, and the next thing he knew, a flashlight beam had caught him in its glare. Riel shook the blanket between his teeth, and Matt clutched the other in his arms.

  “If you wanted to play with the dog, couldn’t you at least have waited until morning?” Giles asked.

  Matt had no response. He was too busy trying to cover as much of himself as possible. Riel gave one last, satisfied growl then backed away, grinning at Matt as if well pleased. Oh, yeah. Man’s best friend.

  Eve stuck her head out of the bedroom window, having taken the time to pull on her nightdress. Thank you, God. Now if only she’d keep quiet about what they’d been up to.

  “I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t run naked around the neighborhood anymore,” she called down.

  On second thought, he’d much rather she’d told her father what they’d been up to.

  In detail.

  Giles slapped the flashlight into Matt’s hand. “You might need this if that’s what you have in mind,” he said. “The nearest neighbor is two kilometers away.” He walked off, calling for the dog to follow him.

  Matt shone the light up at Eve, loving the mischief romping in her eyes despite the acute embarrassment she’d caused. “Thanks. You were a big help.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she said.

  …

  “But what I still don’t understand is what happened to his clothes?”

  “They got caught in the tide,” Eve said to her mother.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” Therese watched as Eve packed her suitcase. “Couldn’t he figure out for himself that it’s too cold and rocky to swim, especially at night? Even if he couldn’t, why wouldn’t he leave his clothes higher up on the beach? And why didn’t he think to check the car for the keys before walking home in the dark?”

  Eve wondered what Matt was going to have to say about the keys. He’d been tight-lipped all morning, ever since her father had driven him down to look for them on the off chance they might have gotten caught between the rocks. As it turned out, Eve had left them in the ignition, not her pocket. She’d also left the car doors unlocked.

  Eve rolled her eyes and turned to her mother in exasperation. “You might as well know the truth. We were having sex on the beach. The tide came in and washed our clothes away. I thought the car keys were in my pocket, so we walked home. I climbed up the trellis and in the bedroom window. You know the rest.”

  “Fine.” Her mother smoothed a hand over the crocheted bedspread. “Don’t tell me what you were doing, then. You’re an adult. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  This was what happened whenever Eve tried to talk to her mother. They ended up angry with each other because her mother didn’t want to see the truth, and the truth was, Eve wasn’t perfect. Far from it. She did stupid things sometimes. She couldn’t be the daughter her mother wanted her to be.

  But she would like to end this visit on a different note. Just once it would be nice to part from her mother on good terms. The dolls on the shelves scowled accusingly down at her through their shiny, lifeless eyes. Say something, they urged her.

  But what?

  “Would you mind if I took my dolls home with me?” she asked.

  “Do you really want them?” Her mother seemed genuinely pleased. Even after all these years, those dolls still meant something to her. Eve was ashamed she’d only asked for them now because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Yes, I really want them.” She’d build shelves in the spare room for them. That way, those glassy, lifeless eyes could stare at Matt first thing in the morning. Assuming, of course, Matt still planned on sleeping in the spare room.

  Things had gotten very complicated between them. Eve preferred straightforward and simple. She hated this guessing, but she hated having to ask even more.

  “I’ll get a box for them,” her mother said.

  Therese hurried out of the room as if afraid Eve might suddenly change her mind, rushing past Matt, who was standing in the hall. The look he gave Eve was warm and approving, and she was suddenly embarrassed to be caught in another sentimental moment.

  “Just for that, I’m not going to say anything about the car keys,” he told her.

  “Thank you.”

  She wanted to wrap her arms around his big, reassuring body, but was uncertain of her right to do so. They’d agreed on casual. She’d done her part to romance him, just as he’d wanted. She had no idea what their boundaries now were.

  They packed the dolls in the box her mother provided, then Matt carried them to the car.

  “I hope you’ll be with Eve the next time she comes home,” her mother told him as they said their good-byes.

  “He might be back in Toronto by then,” Eve said to her mother, mainly to see what Matt’s reaction would be.

  He tucked the box of dolls into the back seat and closed the door. “I’ll just have to make sure we visit again before then.”

  Eve got behind the wheel. Matt seemed preoccupied, and that made her nervous, so she babbled a bit about her work and some of the restoration projects she’d worked on as they drove.

  “Historic reconstruction and restoration is a specialty of yours, isn’t it?” Matt asked. “I hear there’s an art gallery restoration project slated to go ahead for next year. Are you planning to bid on it?”

  “I’d like to,” Eve said. “But most of that work is done by invitation to tender, and I’ve never passed their initial screening criteria.”

  After that, he spoke very little. Instead, he spent most of the drive on his cell phone, talking to Toronto. It was business, and he apologized several times, but consequently, neither one of them was in an especially good mood by the time they reached Halifax that evening.

  The city’s lights glittered on the black waters of the harbor as they crossed the MacKay Bridge and headed for home. Matt carried their bags and the dolls upstairs, and Eve went outside to drag her compost container to the curb for pickup in the morning.

  The neighborhood was quiet.

  Then a man stepped into the pale glow from the streetlight at the end of her driveway.

  “Hey, Eve,” Claude said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Matt heard a noise that sounded like a bin overturning and looked out the bedroom window to see what was going on.

  Then he heard her shouting his name.

  She came from the side of the house, on the driveway, and walked toward the street. Her attention was fastened on a tall man standing under the streetlight on the sidewalk. He wore high-top sneakers, knee-length denim cut-offs, and an orange polo shirt. His hairline started a little farther north of his ears, and the wide smile had been replaced with sulky belligerence, but Matt recognized his face from the newspaper clipping.

  Son of a—

  He had been entertained when Eve told him how she’d broken her ex-husband’s nose and blackened both eyes, but he’d heard about it after the fact, when it was too late to worry and everything had worked out. Now, presented with the very real probability that she’d try it again before he could get there—only this time Claude would be prepared for it—Matt discovered his reaction was different. It bordered on panic. He raced down the stairs and out the front door just in time to see Claude give her a shove.

  And Matt saw red.

  Yet, as it turned out, she didn’t need his protection. In typical Eve style, she didn’t waste time on words. She hauled back her arm and swung a punch at her ex-husband, as hard as she could. Claude, however, had indeed been prepared. He turned his head to the side so that the blow glanced off his cheek.

  “That was for the phone calls,” she was saying, shaking her fingers. “And this,” she added, drawing her fist back again, “is for breaking into my house.”

  There was a fine line between self-defense and assault. Matt caught her around the waist and swung her aside. She kicked out with her feet, trying to fre
e herself, but Matt held on tight.

  She stopped struggling. “I’m fine. I’m calm. Really. You can let go of me.”

  But when Matt did so, she lunged forward. He whipped his arms around her waist again.

  “Someone, call the police,” Claude was shouting.

  Matt didn’t understand why the other man wasn’t running away. He couldn’t hold Eve back much longer. The flashing of red-and-blue lights turning onto the street came almost as a relief. One of the neighbors must have already called in to report a disturbance.

  And then, with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Matt thought he knew what Claude had been trying to accomplish.

  “Well, well,” said a familiar voice as the officer who had stopped Eve and Matt the night of the fundraiser emerged from the patrol car. He surveyed the scene before him. “You two certainly get around.”

  …

  “Now you know why it’s important to keep a record of all the phone calls and the break-ins,” Bob said into the silence filling his car.

  Did she ever. Eve was still shaking with anger at the injustice of it all. “I can’t believe Claude had the nerve to press charges and ask for a peace bond!”

  “Don’t worry, after a year you can always punch him again. A little jail time won’t hurt you,” Bob said cheerfully. “And I think you really scared him.”

  Eve hoped so.

  “Thanks for bailing us out,” Matt said to his uncle.

  “Any time.” Bob glanced into his rearview mirror. “You okay back there, Evie?”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said.

  Bob’s grin was wide and satisfied. “You bet. More than just a little, too. I’m so proud I might burst into tears. I keep telling you, Evie. You’re a bully.”

  It didn’t help any to know she’d proven Bob right. She was, indeed, a bully. If Matt hadn’t been having second thoughts about her before, he had to be having them now—even if Claude had deserved another punch in the nose.

  Eve slumped back in the cushiony leather seat. But she was feeling just a wee bit frustrated at the reversal of roles. Claude had goaded her into hitting him so he could press charges. Claude had wanted revenge, and she’d let him have it. She hadn’t bothered saying that he pushed her first. When Matt tried to clarify that to the police, she’d shut him down.

  Now he was mad.

  “Look on the bright side,” Bob added. “Mattie can spend more time on his backlogged business in Toronto. You’ll have your house to yourself again. There’s the silver lining.”

  Matt grunted, and Eve contemplated the back of his head. He’d never said a word to her about being backlogged, but what had she thought—that Halifax’s pitiful little City Hall was the crowning glory of his illustrious career?

  Bob stopped in front of her house.

  “By the way, we’ll be having an information session at City Hall Wednesday morning. The press will be there.” He shot her a thoughtful look over the back of his seat then nudged his nephew. “Seems Evie’s friend Marion tipped them off.”

  “She’s not my friend,” Eve said. “If you’ve done something you should be ashamed of, Bob, that’s your problem. Not mine. I’m not lying for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Eve. You won’t have to say a word. Just show up and look beautiful.”

  Matt dropped his head in his hands. “Don’t you know her at all?” Eve heard him mutter to Bob.

  Bob sounded surprised. “But she is beautiful.”

  She was too tired for this. If she had something to say Wednesday morning, she’d say it. There was nothing Bob could do to stop her.

  She and Matt walked around to the back of the house and entered through the open deck door. The adrenaline high she’d been on was definitely starting to wear off. She wished he would put his arms around her. She wanted the clock to go back twenty-four hours so they could make love on the beach again. Her heart twisted.

  Correction: there had been no talk of love last night, and she wasn’t hearing any talk of it now. This was the moment when Matt was supposed to take her in his arms and tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not for very long. She counted the ticks of the clock on the wall. Twenty-seven. This was awful. She was being needy, and she didn’t like the feeling.

  Twenty-nine.

  “I didn’t realize you were falling behind on your work,” she said.

  “Yes, well.” Matt frowned. “That’s one of the many things you and I need to talk about.”

  She had a bad feeling that she wasn’t going to like the conversation he had in mind, and decided she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Not yet. Not after tonight.

  Not until she’d had more time to prepare herself. She’d been the one to tell him she wanted a casual relationship, and she wasn’t going to beg him for more.

  “I’m tired,” she said. “Can this wait until another time?”

  Matt looked like he wanted to argue, then gave in.

  “Okay,” he said. “But we really need to have a serious talk sometime soon.”

  Eve needed to have an even more serious talk with herself.

  She went to bed, then waited to see where Matt would spend the night. She could hear the low rumble of his voice as he spoke on the phone downstairs. A long while later, he paused for a moment outside her bedroom, then continued down the short hall. His door snicked shut.

  Eve rolled over, burying her face in her pillow.

  …

  The next day, Matt was gone before she got home from work. His note said he’d had to make an emergency trip to Toronto, but he’d be back in time for the meeting.

  …

  As she entered City Hall for Bob’s meeting on Wednesday morning, he and his uncle were both waiting for her in the main foyer.

  It was silly for her heart to pound this way at the sight of him. He’d only been gone two days. Two long, lonely days when she’d buried herself in work, and two longer, lonely nights when she’d stared at her bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep because she was afraid their relationship was over before it had even begun.

  Matt, on the other hand, looked like he’d never slept better. It seemed the time they’d been apart hadn’t been the agony for him that it had been for her.

  “Hey, Eve,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  She didn’t know what to make of that.

  “Let’s get out of the hallway before the press arrives, shall we?” Bob said to them.

  Worn, red carpeting muffled the sounds of their footsteps as Eve hurried to keep up with the longer-legged men. Bob took her elbow and urged her to move faster, but there was already a group of people huddled outside the meeting room.

  “Damn.” Bob veered down another corridor, dragging Eve with him. “I was hoping to have time to brief you on what to say if you’re asked any questions, but I guess I’ll just have to trust your judgment.”

  One of her heels snagged on the carpet and she stumbled.

  Matt caught her under the arms from behind. “If you carried her you could make better time,” he said to his uncle. “Otherwise, I’d suggest you slow down before she breaks a leg.”

  “We can do this right here.” Bob let go of Eve’s arm and she rubbed her elbow, considering all the wonderful ways in which Bob might die. “The Historical Society has raised a—damn,” he interrupted himself, swearing again as they all spotted Marion walking toward them. “Marion. How the hell are you this morning?”

  If it weren’t for Bob’s glower, Eve might have thought the two of them were actually glad to see each other.

  “Fine, Bob. Just fine.” Marion beamed. “The meeting’s all set to begin.”

  The meeting room was small, filled mostly with a few industry professionals and, of course, the press. Eve recognized some government officials, too.

  Marion took a seat beside Bob. “Matt, why don’t you start things off with a brief presentation of your design?” she suggested.

  Eve was confused. Bob was the mayor.
Why was he allowing Marion to take charge of the proceedings?

  Matt’s presentation was short, to the point, and well-received. Eve still didn’t understand what was going on. Anyone could call the city and get this information. What was all the fuss about?

  “Is it true that the Historical Society is opposing the destruction of this building?” a reporter asked, his bald head gleaming with sweat.

  Bob’s response was quick. “Only because the Historical Society hasn’t seen the engineer’s report condemning this site.”

  The reporter jotted some notes in his notebook. “Has anyone seen this engineer’s report?”

  “Of course.”

  The reporter smiled. “Other than yourself, sir?”

  Bob considered the question. “The engineer who wrote it must have seen it,” he offered.

  There was a ripple of laughter that only served to punctuate the sick feeling Eve now had in the pit of her stomach. She’d seen that report. She might even have mentioned it to Marion, although she couldn’t be sure. If she had, it was public information. Marion could have gotten it easily. Eve didn’t dare look at Matt. On top of everything else, how would he feel about her if she had somehow done something to ruin his uncle’s well-laid plans, even if it hadn’t been intentional?

  Eve’s stomachache worsened.

  “There have been reports of expenditures that are grossly over budget,” the reporter continued.

  Eve leaped to her feet. “I’d like to address that, if I may.”

  “I’m sorry. You are?” the reporter inquired politely, his pen poised.

  “Evangeline Doucette.” She spelled her last name. Bob looked like he might be having a stroke. She could see his hands under the table. He was twisting his notes, probably wishing they were her neck. “I’m the project manager. I handle the budget, among other things.”

  “The budget. Can you explain”—the reporter paused to shuffle through some pages in front of him, then pulled out several photocopied sheets—“an order for twenty custom-made desks at five-thousand dollars apiece, and twenty custom-made chairs, each at a thousand, for the new Council Room, placed before construction has even begun?”