Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,24

he spied the black dress she’d worn the night before lying on the floor near her discarded coveralls. Flecks of sawdust clung to its filmy fabric.

He pressed his thumbs against his eyelids. She must have had that dress on underneath her coveralls, which explained why she was so tired. He’d bet big money she’d spent the night at a construction site.

Had she called the police?

Probably not. From what he’d seen of her, she was just stubborn enough to try and deal with this herself.

Preoccupied, he hung her coveralls on a hook on the back of the bedroom door. As he did so, a crumpled wad of paper bounced off the toe of his shoe. He picked it up, smoothing it between his palms while he tried to think of what he should do. He couldn’t leave her alone without first finding out what was going on, but he wasn’t likely to find out from Eve.

He went to re-crumple the paper when bold lettering at the top of it caught his eye. He inspected the paper more closely. Then, carefully, he wadded it up again and tucked it back in the pocket of her coveralls.

He’d been right. It was personal. And now he knew why she was so touchy about failed relationships.

…

The lazy drone of a fly and its feather-light touch on her bare arm penetrated Eve’s state of semi-consciousness.

She pried open one eye. Streetlight streamed through the soft drapery of the long, narrow, eastward-facing living room windows. She shot upright and struggled to get her bearings, rubbing her eyes and blinking a few times. It couldn’t be night, could it?

The house was silent except for the fly, and she sent up a swift prayer of thanks. Her teeth had fur, she hadn’t had a shower yet today, and her head ached. She threw back a blanket and realized Matt must have covered her with it before he left. Mortification consumed her. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep on him.

Then, she smelled the coffee. She must have forgotten to turn off the coffee maker that morning. She swung her feet to the floor and made a mad dash to the kitchen, hoping it hadn’t scorched to the bottom of the pot.

She rounded a corner and smacked into something solid standing in front of the refrigerator. Large hands grabbed her by the elbows, lifting her, and she let out a frightened squeak.

“I know I haven’t had a shave yet, but I didn’t think I looked all that bad,” Matt said, setting her back on her feet.

Eve’s heart rate slowed to a steady jackhammer pace as she tried to gather her scattered wits. She finally noticed that the kitchen lights were on, and in their white glare, he didn’t look bad at all. In fact, he looked great. His long, lean body, stubbled chin, and intense blue eyes dominated her whole kitchen.

He still wore his running gear.

“Have you been here all day?” she asked, incredulous, her sleep-fogged brain not operating at one hundred percent. God, she hoped her breath didn’t smell as bad as it tasted.

“I figured I might as well stay. You were asleep, and it was nice and quiet here.” His unwavering eyes fastened on hers. “And I had a lot of reading to do.”

Eve remembered all the files she’d dumped on him. At least he’d put his time to good use.

A box on the kitchen table caught her attention. Her voice rose an octave. “You ordered pizza?”

“It was either that or eat peanut butter on pita bread, which was all I could find in your cupboards. I saved you some,” he added.

“I haven’t had time to buy groceries lately.” Eve tried to figure out how she’d slept through a pizza delivery. She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed. “You’re probably in a hurry to get back to your hotel,” she said.

If so, no one would ever know it. He propped one hip against the tiled countertop. “Could I have a cup of coffee first?”

He’d made fresh coffee.

Eve was at a complete loss as to how to handle this situation. It wasn’t often she had architects sit around her house and watch her sleep. The clock over the kitchen sink chimed the hour. It was ten o’clock. At night.

She began to back out of the kitchen, bumping into a wall in the process. “Of course. Have your coffee. But I need to grab a shower. I’m sure you could use one, too.” The twist of his lips made her