Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,44

where she is or how long she’ll be. I just got home myself.” He didn’t know what else to say. “Here, let me take that from you. I’ll just put it in the kitchen.”

Matt took the pot from Lena’s hands. He headed down the hall and set it on the table. When he turned, he bumped into Lena, who was right behind him. “Sorry.”

Lena wrapped her arms around his waist. “No problem.”

Matt was seeing a very distinct problem. He tried to disengage himself, but she was stronger than he’d anticipated. “Mrs. Sullivan, I—”

“Call me Lena.”

“Mrs. Sullivan.” Matt eased her hands off his backside. “I’m thinking your husband might not like this.”

Lena’s full red lips crooked downward in a pout that was downright frightening. “Connor pays no attention to me.”

Now Matt understood what was going on. Lena was the type of woman who, after finding herself married to an older man, worried whether or not she was still attractive to the rest of the male population. If he let on he found her attractive and flirted with her a little, sooner or later she’d give up.

“Connor must be crazy, then,” he said. “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

She threw herself into his arms. Matt staggered backward. His hip struck the edge of the table, and the pot of soup slid a few sloppy inches. Then Lena attached herself to his lips, and he was too astonished to do more than grab her to steady himself.

She finally let him up for air, but Lena wasn’t looking ready to back off. Instead, she was staring behind him. Her face warned Matt that things were about to become more awkward, not less. When he turned around to look, he wished he’d been prepared for exactly how awkward things would prove to be.

“We must have the wrong house.”

The short, plump woman who spoke could only be Eve’s mother. She had the same hair, although hers was streaked with gray, and the same chocolate-colored eyes. She even stared at Matt with the same cool expression Eve adopted when she was displeased.

It was obvious that Mrs. Doucette knew full well she wasn’t in the wrong house. And the forbidding man behind her had to be Eve’s father.

Chapter Nine

Lena recovered faster than Matt.

She slapped his face before spinning on her heel, her head held high as she brushed past Eve’s parents.

Matt rubbed his stinging cheek, wishing that he could follow her and make as grand an exit. Sooner or later, however, he’d have to return.

He stared at the Doucettes. They stared back.

“You must be Eve’s parents.” He didn’t bother offering to shake hands, although he did make a feeble attempt at a smile. But the rigid expressions on their faces didn’t change, and his own smile tightened. “I’m Matt Brison, the architect for the new project Eve’s working on.” No response. What luck. Two more Doucettes who weren’t impressed by his name. “You must have had a long drive.” Although not nearly long enough, considering they were a day early. “Could I get you coffee or tea?” He dropped his hand to the top of the pot Lena had abandoned. “Or some soup?”

There was a definite chill in the air.

“No, thank you,” Mrs. Doucette said.

Eve, toting bags of groceries, bounced into the kitchen. She’d changed from the skirt and heels she’d worn to the office into her usual jeans and a T-shirt, which meant she’d likely come straight home after work before going out again. That made him feel better—he’d been worried.

“I see you’ve met my parents,” she said. “This is my mother, Therese, and my father, Giles. They arrived early, so we went out to pick up food for the weekend.” She set the bags on the table, ignoring the tension in the room. “I ran into Lena on her way out. What did she want?”

If the sparkle in Eve’s eyes was anything to judge by, she was enjoying this. And if so, Matt wasn’t sharing her amusement. He doubted if there was anything he could say right now that would convince the senior Doucettes that he wasn’t some sort of serial sex offender.

Nothing he could think of off the top of his head.

“She brought soup,” Matt said.

Eve lifted the lid on the pot. “Mm. Turkey. Wasn’t that nice of her? That’s one less meal we’ll have to worry about this weekend.”

Yeah. Real nice. Lena was a thoughtful woman. Didn’t Eve find it strange that her boss’s wife was dropping off a pot of soup?

“Eve, could I speak