Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,58

any fear.

Cyril rolled one meaty shoulder. “How about it, Matt? Do you like to play games? Because when all the family gets together like this, we usually play soccer.”

If Eve didn’t do something fast, Matt was a dead man.

“He’s not playing soccer with us,” she said hastily. “Matt brought his laptop with him so he can get some work done this weekend.”

“Are you playing soccer?” Matt asked her.

Uh oh. “Yes,” she admitted. She had her reputation in the family to maintain. “But I’ve played with them before. You haven’t.”

A stubborn look she’d never seen before crept into his eyes. This was it. She might as well kiss him good-bye.

“If you’re playing, then so am I,” he said.

Marcel slapped Matt on the back. “Welcome to the team. Why don’t you wash off that flour, ditch the apron, and come give us a hand? We’re setting up tables on the front lawn.”

See, Eve? Matt’s satisfied expression read as her brothers filed out the door. Things are going great.

Eve rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

“What’s that for this time?” he asked, his expression softening again now that the Neanderthals were gone. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I’m just curious.”

It was for thinking she needed protecting. For thinking he could take on her brothers. For not caring that he’d been wearing an apron around all that macho, male attitude.

“Because I’m going to miss your pretty face,” she said. “Those guys are planning to kill you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He untied the apron and slung it on a hook near the sink. “You know, Eve, you don’t understand men nearly as well as you think you do.”

And Eve didn’t understand what this soccer match was really all about.

Yes, Matt knew her brothers planned to kick his ass, and yes, he also knew they thought he was a sissy because he was an architect and not something more manly, like a carpenter. But what none of them realized was that growing up a skinny, bookish kid with no father, a guy either learned to look after himself or got his butt kicked on a regular basis. These days, no one kicked Matt’s butt unless he let them, and if getting along with Eve’s family meant taking a few hits, then fine. A couple of bruises didn’t bother him.

The warm afternoon sunshine toasted the back of his neck as everyone gathered to choose sides in the hayfield behind the house. Most of the women and children, and the older men, sat on scattered blankets in the shade around the apple trees to watch.

Eve hadn’t been kidding when she’d hinted about the size of her family, he realized, awed. Once the aunts, uncles, cousins, and their spouses were all factored in, they had enough players for an entire league.

“I want Matt on my team,” Eve said.

She’d tied her hair back in a long French braid, the tip curling over her shoulder against her breast. She tossed the braid impatiently out of her way, lithe and gorgeous in a pair of cutoffs that didn’t quite cover everything when she bent over—and she did far too much bending for Matt’s personal comfort. One or two cousins-by-marriage were doing a bit too much looking for his comfort, too.

“I don’t think so,” Cyril disagreed, calling Matt’s reluctant attention back to the matter at hand. “I think we’d better put him on my team.”

That came as a surprise. Matt would have thought the self-defense instructor would have wanted to be in a better position to hit him. It was hard to hit your own team member and make it look like an accident.

“Just so you know, we play to win,” Alain said to Matt, elbowing him as the game began. “You have medical coverage, right? Because Eve’s real competitive.”

What was that supposed to mean?

It didn’t take Matt long to figure it out, not when there was no referee and Eve’s brothers kept feeding him the ball. They weren’t just trying to kick his ass; they really were trying to get him killed—and apparently, Eve was their weapon of choice. Alain wasn’t kidding when he’d said his sister was competitive. She seemed to be her team’s enforcer.

Matt had to admire her brothers. They were a whole lot smarter than he’d given them credit for. He was about to get his ass handed to him by a girl, and in front of her entire family. If they hadn’t thought him a sissy before, they were going to now.

Eve,