Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,69

very long. She counted the ticks of the clock on the wall. Twenty-seven. This was awful. She was being needy, and she didn’t like the feeling.

Twenty-nine.

“I didn’t realize you were falling behind on your work,” she said.

“Yes, well.” Matt frowned. “That’s one of the many things you and I need to talk about.”

She had a bad feeling that she wasn’t going to like the conversation he had in mind, and decided she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Not yet. Not after tonight.

Not until she’d had more time to prepare herself. She’d been the one to tell him she wanted a casual relationship, and she wasn’t going to beg him for more.

“I’m tired,” she said. “Can this wait until another time?”

Matt looked like he wanted to argue, then gave in.

“Okay,” he said. “But we really need to have a serious talk sometime soon.”

Eve needed to have an even more serious talk with herself.

She went to bed, then waited to see where Matt would spend the night. She could hear the low rumble of his voice as he spoke on the phone downstairs. A long while later, he paused for a moment outside her bedroom, then continued down the short hall. His door snicked shut.

Eve rolled over, burying her face in her pillow.

…

The next day, Matt was gone before she got home from work. His note said he’d had to make an emergency trip to Toronto, but he’d be back in time for the meeting.

…

As she entered City Hall for Bob’s meeting on Wednesday morning, he and his uncle were both waiting for her in the main foyer.

It was silly for her heart to pound this way at the sight of him. He’d only been gone two days. Two long, lonely days when she’d buried herself in work, and two longer, lonely nights when she’d stared at her bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep because she was afraid their relationship was over before it had even begun.

Matt, on the other hand, looked like he’d never slept better. It seemed the time they’d been apart hadn’t been the agony for him that it had been for her.

“Hey, Eve,” he said, kissing her cheek.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

“Let’s get out of the hallway before the press arrives, shall we?” Bob said to them.

Worn, red carpeting muffled the sounds of their footsteps as Eve hurried to keep up with the longer-legged men. Bob took her elbow and urged her to move faster, but there was already a group of people huddled outside the meeting room.

“Damn.” Bob veered down another corridor, dragging Eve with him. “I was hoping to have time to brief you on what to say if you’re asked any questions, but I guess I’ll just have to trust your judgment.”

One of her heels snagged on the carpet and she stumbled.

Matt caught her under the arms from behind. “If you carried her you could make better time,” he said to his uncle. “Otherwise, I’d suggest you slow down before she breaks a leg.”

“We can do this right here.” Bob let go of Eve’s arm and she rubbed her elbow, considering all the wonderful ways in which Bob might die. “The Historical Society has raised a—damn,” he interrupted himself, swearing again as they all spotted Marion walking toward them. “Marion. How the hell are you this morning?”

If it weren’t for Bob’s glower, Eve might have thought the two of them were actually glad to see each other.

“Fine, Bob. Just fine.” Marion beamed. “The meeting’s all set to begin.”

The meeting room was small, filled mostly with a few industry professionals and, of course, the press. Eve recognized some government officials, too.

Marion took a seat beside Bob. “Matt, why don’t you start things off with a brief presentation of your design?” she suggested.

Eve was confused. Bob was the mayor. Why was he allowing Marion to take charge of the proceedings?

Matt’s presentation was short, to the point, and well-received. Eve still didn’t understand what was going on. Anyone could call the city and get this information. What was all the fuss about?

“Is it true that the Historical Society is opposing the destruction of this building?” a reporter asked, his bald head gleaming with sweat.

Bob’s response was quick. “Only because the Historical Society hasn’t seen the engineer’s report condemning this site.”

The reporter jotted some notes in his notebook. “Has anyone seen this engineer’s report?”

“Of course.”

The reporter smiled. “Other than yourself, sir?”

Bob considered the question. “The engineer who wrote it must have seen it,”