Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,23

up with her hands under her cheek and her tanned knees against her chest that Matt was in no hurry to leave.

She gave a soft sigh, a frown crinkling her delicate brow. The position she was in couldn’t be comfortable, yet the shadows under her eyes told him how badly she needed the rest. A tiny knot twisted in Matt’s stomach. Could he move her without waking her?

The trill of the phone shattered the quiet. Eve, however, didn’t twitch a muscle, which answered Matt’s question—he could tap dance beside her, and it wasn’t likely to wake her.

The phone persisted, and he debated whether or not he should answer it since she hadn’t seemed to want him to before. Then he decided to wait until the answering machine picked up. If it sounded like an emergency, he’d wake her. He glanced doubtfully at her sleeping form. Well, he’d try.

When the machine finally kicked in, however, the caller hung up—then the phone began to ring again almost immediately. Matt listened to this cycle twice more before deciding to answer and put an end to it.

“Hello?” he said, speaking softly even though it seemed unlikely that anything short of dynamite could accomplish disturbing Eve’s nap.

There was a brief hesitation on the other end of the line. “Who is this?” a low, male voice demanded. The hair on the back of Matt’s neck stood up at the frigid tone of the man’s simple words.

“Who is this?” he countered. His eyes darted to Eve, still asleep in her chair.

The line went dead then, and Matt stared at the receiver in his hand for a few brief seconds before replacing it in its cradle. He thought about Eve’s jumpiness, the dark circles under her eyes, and the baseball bat. He remembered the strange noises coming from her bedroom, as if she’d been rearranging furniture, and the way she hadn’t wanted him to answer her phone.

He didn’t like the conclusion he was coming to.

He ditched the remaining files on the floor and got to his feet. He couldn’t leave her here alone without making sure she’d be okay. First, though, he’d move her to the sofa and make her more comfortable. He slipped one arm beneath her knees, the other under her shoulders, and held his breath, waiting for her to open her eyes and demand to know what he was doing. Her head lolled against his forearm, and her mouth fell open. She snorted daintily, and Matt grinned, wishing he dared drop a kiss on the end of that trim little nose.

The knuckles of her limply dangling hand brushed his thigh, and he dumped her on the sofa as if she’d suddenly burst into flames. She sighed, rolled over, and mumbled something under her breath. Matt’s heart pounded hard in his chest. It was probably, “Get a life.”

The sooner he checked her house and got out, the better.

He started in the kitchen.

The patio doors leading to a small deck were latched. The screen from the open window above the kitchen table, however, rested against one wainscoted wall, and a tiny clod of dirt clung to the sill. Matt remembered Eve standing under that same window when he’d arrived, then the way she’d rushed to meet him—as if there were something she didn’t want him to see…

A quick glance outside confirmed his suspicions. There were two man-sized footprints planted squarely in the flowerbed.

Someone had broken into her house.

Matt followed a trail of dried dirt to the second floor. The first room at the head of the stairs was the bathroom, where everything seemed to be in its proper place. It smelled nice, he noted. Very feminine.

He then eased open the door across the hall and peered inside. His chin went slack. She’d sat drinking coffee with him, discussing business as calm as could be, when she’d known all along what was waiting for her upstairs. Had it even occurred to her to ask him for help? Maybe trust him a little?

At least now he knew why it had sounded like she was moving furniture. She must have tried to lift that wardrobe by herself. It was a huge, heavy piece, another antique, and one she’d never be able to move.

He needed to be doing something physical. After a few moments of grunting and swearing, he had the wardrobe upright. He checked it over for damage, rubbing a hand down one side, feeling the thick grain of the wood. Not a scratch on it.

Pausing to catch his breath,