Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,61
I think you’re afraid that if they like me, you won’t have any reason not to like me, too.”
She concentrated on the fingertip-sized indent at the peak of his upper lip. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she felt the tiny pulse below her jaw leap beneath his fingers, which were still cupping her chin. “I never said I didn’t like you.”
“Then name three things that you like about me,” he challenged her. “Because I’m beginning to wonder if you hate all men or if it’s just me. Not that I’d blame you if it’s all of us,” he added. “I’ve seen enough of your brothers to know why you’d feel that way. I just think it’s something you should work on, and I’m willing to help you practice.”
“You’re crazy,” Eve said. “I don’t hate men. I work with men all the time. I certainly don’t hate my brothers. And I don’t hate you, either.”
Matt smiled into her eyes. “Prove it. Three things.”
“Are we talking physical, professional, or personal?” she hedged.
“Let’s make it simple,” he said. “One of each.”
“Okay.” Eve thought a moment. “Physical, then. Your nose.”
“My nose?”
“You asked what I like. You didn’t say I needed to explain it,” Eve replied. “Professional,” she continued. “I like your briefcase. And personal. I really like those navy blue boxer briefs you wear. Really.”
“Let me get this straight,” Matt said. “You like my nose, my briefcase, and my underwear? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Let’s see you do better.”
“Easily.” Matt released her chin, then wrapped her snugly in his arms so that she had to tip her head back to look up at him. Her heart tripped a little faster. “I like the way your dark, sexy eyes light up whenever I walk into a room.”
“They do not,” Eve said. Although to be honest, she kind of liked the sound of dark and sexy when linked with her eyes.
“Quiet,” he ordered, his arms tightening around her. “This is my fantasy.”
“I’d like to file a protest. You never said we were allowed to fantasize. That’s cheating.”
“I’m about to cross your ‘docile nature’ off the ‘personal’ list,” Matt warned.
“You have a list?”
“Of course. To continue…” He lowered his mouth and pressed a kiss to the soft swell of her throat. “I like the way you smell. Flowery. A little sweaty at the moment, but definitely still girly.”
“Is my smell professional or personal?” Eve asked.
“I’m still on physical.” He touched the tip of his tongue to her ear lobe. “And the way you taste. Mm. ‘Sugar and spice and everything nice.’ I like that, too.”
Matt won. Hands down. But Eve wasn’t about to tell him so until he was finished.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance. She heard one of her brothers calling his name, and she wriggled free from his arms.
“Excuse me.” Cyril strode around the corner of the garage, holding up Matt’s cell phone. “Oddly enough, it’s for you.”
“Thanks.” Matt took the phone with a distinct lack of enthusiasm and walked toward the house, searching for a spot with better reception.
“You’re a guy,” Eve said to Cyril. “What would you find romantic?”
A pained expression cartwheeled across her brother’s face. “Why ask me? Why not read a magazine or something?”
“That would be my preference, but since I don’t have any handy, I’m stuck with you.”
Cyril studied her. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I really do.” There was no point in denying it any longer. “A lot.”
“Then try sharing something with him.”
“You mean, like sex? Because that’s what I’m trying to accomplish, here.”
Cyril’s face flushed a dull brick-red. “I figured that out already, and I don’t need the details, thanks. But I meant, like a secret. A hope or a dream. Something you’ve never shared with anyone else.” He stuck his hands in his shorts pockets. “Oh, yeah. And next time? You might want to let him flatten Marcel for you instead of doing it yourself.”
“Matt would never flatten anyone,” Eve said with absolute conviction. “He’s too nice.”
“If you say so,” Cyril said, without any conviction at all. “But remember, there are other ways to flatten a guy than by hitting him. You might want to think about that, too.”
Chapter Twelve
Matt’s curiosity was piqued by the armload of blankets Eve was carrying to her car.
It was getting late, and the Doucette family reunion was finally winding down. He rested a shoulder against the weathered support of the veranda as the sounds of the few guests who remained