Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,4

could appreciate practical.

She just didn’t like modernist.

“And what do you think might be the appropriate style for this particular project?” he asked.

The neutrality of his tone, combined with his unwavering attention, set off an alarm in the back of her head. She wasn’t sure if he was genuinely interested in her opinion or giving her just enough leeway to showcase her ignorance. Did he assume she didn’t know what she was talking about simply because she didn’t have a few extra letters after her name?

She counted to ten. More than once she’d been accused of being overly sensitive about her lack of a degree. She had an ex-husband with a PhD in Biology who used to make fun of her lower level of education to thank for that particular insecurity. It was one of the reasons he was now an ex. But this was not the time for her to get defensive or back down. She had done the research and was comfortable with her facts. Plus, there was nothing wrong with her design for the new City Hall. Her hackles started to rise, though she tried to tamp them down.

They want to hire a professional, indeed. Arrogant ass. She was a professional. And a darn good one.

She caught his eye and held his gaze, which turned out to be a mistake. He had a thick fringe of black lashes around those amazing blue eyes.

He was waiting for her to say something. She searched for her tongue.

“Second Empire,” she stated. “Monumental, but not too flashy. Maybe with Georgian columns and simple arches, similar to what we’ve used on this site.” She gestured toward the door and the building under construction outside. Then she shifted in her chair and tapped her fingertips on its wooden armrest. “That’s what I did on the preliminaries, and it was exactly what the city wanted.” She paused a minute to let it sink in, but his expression didn’t shift. “Mr. Brison, did you even look at the preliminary plans? Have you even bothered to visit the city’s Historic Properties district?”

“Yes to both. And please, call me Matt.”

That good-natured, GQ smile of his made it harder for her to pull two thoughts together. He was smooth, she’d give him that, but some lessons were learned the hard way, and she knew better than to trust any man at the top of his field. Especially one who was being so nice. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice….

She cleared her throat. “Well, Matt. Do you agree with me or not? Do you really think your work will suit the style of the district?”

A fleeting expression she couldn’t identify crossed his face and was gone, and the easy smile was back in place fast. He would make a good poker player.

“I think my work will make a statement.”

Eve couldn’t resist. “It’ll say, ‘Help. I don’t belong here. Find me a Starbucks.’”

A dark eyebrow went up. “Or it might say, ‘Look at me. I’m a trendsetter, and in a class all my own.’”

“The poor thing will be lonely. We wouldn’t want that.” She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was hardly his fault. He’d been asked to come here. She doubted very much that he’d begged for the opportunity. “I can straighten this out with a few phone calls. That way we won’t be wasting any more of our time.” She reached for the telephone. “Who hired you?”

“Bob Anderson approached me.”

Of course. The mayor. Eve’s assassination plot was looking more and more attractive by the second.

“That would explain it,” she said. “The mayor is a moron.”

Matt’s easy expression never changed. “Maybe so. But that moron is my uncle.”

Heat scorched her cheeks. She needed to learn to think first before she flipped the operating switch on her mouth.

“Perhaps ‘moron’ is too strong a word,” she amended, nearly choking on the retraction.

A flash of humor curled the corners of his firm, full mouth. “He speaks highly of you, too.”

Eve could well imagine. She recalled her last two conversations with the mayor without fondness. Bob considered himself a visionary. Eve thought his opinion of himself was overrated, unless by visionary, he meant delusional. He wanted City Hall to look like a giant sail. She’d like to know how that said twenty-first century.

As her hand hovered over the telephone, she found herself in a quandary. City Council was going to back the mayor’s orders. And Eve knew Connor Sullivan was probably salivating over the prospect of having someone