Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,59

however, wasn’t cooperating. Every time someone sent Matt the ball she dropped back, refusing to challenge him. At first he was pleased she’d caught on and wasn’t about to play her brothers’ stupid game. Then he realized something.

She didn’t play along because she didn’t want to hurt him. And everybody watching knew it.

Matt could live with her whole family thinking he was a sissy architect, but there was no way he was having Eve think it, too. He took the ball down the side of the field. If she wouldn’t challenge him, he’d find someone else to do it for her.

Someone hit him from behind. Hard.

“Are we playing Australian rules?” Matt asked, picking himself up and trying not to groan.

“Puh-lease,” Eve said, rolling her eyes as she rushed over to make sure he was still breathing. “Have you noticed any rules?”

She bent down to examine him, her hands on her knees, and just as she was making a move to wipe the blood off a small scrape on her knee, Marcel checked her from behind.

Matt’s heart stopped as she went down, but before he could come to her rescue, she’d snatched at the hair on Marcel’s leg in retaliation.

“Ouch!” Marcel yelped, rubbing the newly acquired bald spot on the back of his calf. “You’re getting slow in your old age, Eve. And mean.”

Matt’s heart started pounding again, this time with ill-contained anger. Dancing lightly on the balls of his feet, he made a move toward Marcel, but someone grabbed him by the arm to stop him. Matt whirled around, and Cyril’s palm shot up in self-defense.

“Easy there, baker boy,” Cyril murmured, stepping out of the range of Matt’s longer reach. “Marcel’s just trying to keep her tough. He’s not going to hurt her. Watch.”

With a sudden deft twist of her body, Eve had Marcel flat on his back, one knee on his chest, her other pressed into his throat. Matt peered down into Marcel’s face from over Eve’s shoulder.

“Was that tough enough for you?” Matt asked.

“Get off your brother, Eve,” her mother called out from beneath a twisted apple tree where she’d been chatting with some relatives. “He’s got a bad back.”

“And lousy reflexes,” Alain added in an aside to Matt, apparently unaware that Matt wasn’t seeing the humor. “Don’t know what the RCMP sees in him if a woman can take him out like that. I think he’s ready for a desk job.”

Eve scrambled to her feet, pushing a strand of hair away from her flushed face.

“And I think Matt’s ready for a break,” Cyril said to Eve, although his watchful eyes remained on Matt. “Why don’t we let someone else play for a while?”

“I don’t need a break,” Matt said.

Eve looked from her brother to Matt, suddenly seeming to notice that something was wrong.

“I need one,” Eve said to Matt. “I could use something to drink. Why don’t you join me?”

Her shirt was sticking to her skin, there were flecks of dirt and grass clinging to her legs, and her hair was a mess. Matt had never been so attracted to a woman in his life.

That was the trouble. His feelings for Eve were a whole lot more complicated than he’d bargained for. This caveman mentality—the primeval part of him that wanted to kill anyone who touched her—wasn’t something he was comfortable with. He was used to being in control of both his life and his emotions, but since he’d met Eve, there had been nothing but chaos.

Maybe he’d better take that break after all. At the moment, he didn’t feel much like letting anyone kick his butt. Not when he felt like kicking it himself.

Eve followed him off the field, and the soccer game resumed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

She really didn’t know…

Matt took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. He hated losing his temper, and he hated her brothers for making him. But, more than anything, he was angry with himself. He’d almost decked her brother during a soccer game. As weird and twisted as the game was.

Matt had always wanted to be a part of a big, noisy family that gathered for anniversaries and organized things like soccer games, but this business of trying to kill each other was too crazy for him. Not much wonder she didn’t know anything about romance. Look what she had for examples.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said.

They stopped at the table with the drinks on it, then crossed to the blankets where Eve’s mother was sitting.

Eve tried to lag behind, but Matt