Desire by Design - By Paula Altenburg Page 0,7
Eve.”
Just what she needed. A phone call from her mother.
A selfish thought lifted her spirits. Maybe her parents’ fortieth anniversary party was about to be canceled.
No such luck.
“I’m planning the menu for the party,” her mother said. “I thought I’d make tourtière, just for you. You will be coming, won’t you?”
There it was again—the guilt trip. The anxious little quiver to her mother’s voice, making it sound as if the anniversary would be a disaster if Eve wasn’t there. In fairness, their large, Acadian French family was very close-knit, and they’d all be disappointed if she didn’t show up.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Eve said, smothering her sigh. After all, why wouldn’t she want to hear tired family jokes about her oddball career choice, her failed marriage, and, oh yes, the current lack of a man in her life?
They might be a close family, but that didn’t always translate into understanding and sensitivity.
She made the appropriate noises as her mother outlined the family weekend she’d planned. Then Eve said she had work to do and extricated herself from what would surely be a much longer conversation than she wanted to deal with just then.
The second Eve said good-bye and hung up, however, the phone rang again. She made a face at it. What detail could her mother possibly have forgotten?
“Have you missed me?” whispered a low, husky, male voice.
Eve hadn’t heard that voice in over five years…and had hoped never to hear again.
Chapter Three
“Why do I need an escort for your fundraiser?”
Matt cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear and stood splay-legged at the large window in his hotel room. He’d turned down his uncle’s invitation to stay at his house. Uncle Bob was an extrovert who liked to entertain, while Matt preferred peace and quiet. A hotel was definitely the best option.
“You aren’t the one in need of an escort,” his uncle said over the clatter of caterers Matt could hear working in the background. “I doubt if Eve wants to come so much as her boss wants her here, and Connor Sullivan’s kind of old-school. He doesn’t think a woman should show up at these things unescorted. I told him you’d be happy to bring her.”
His uncle paused, waiting for some response, but Matt said nothing. It had been three days since he’d introduced himself to the pretty little project manager, and as yet she’d made no effort to contact him so they could sit down and talk. That might be because she was the draftsman who’d done the preliminary designs—an important detail he’d found out too late, after he’d already put his big foot in his mouth. What was it he’d said?
City Council has decided they want to hire a professional.
He was well aware of how condescending he must have sounded, and when he looked back, he should have noticed that she’d been insulted. She’d gotten very distant and then made no secret of the fact she couldn’t wait to be rid of him.
It was never nice to be set aside in favor of someone with higher qualifications, and while he did have his professional brand to consider, he hadn’t intended to come across as that guy who bought into his own fame and fortune and dismissed any input from others.
Or he might have come on a little too strong after she’d made it plain she wasn’t interested. But he’d been intrigued, and possibly challenged, by her complete lack of interest, both in his work and in him.
Somehow, he didn’t think she’d find an arranged date with him a whole lot of fun.
“Come on, Mattie,” his uncle wheedled. “I’m not asking you to marry her. Just spend a few hours with her. It won’t kill you. Besides, you both have common interests. You’ll be working together. And I bet she looks half decent in a dress.”
Matt had no doubt she would, but he had other reservations regarding the pint-sized woman with the hot-chocolate eyes and tempting lips. Being asked at the last minute to escort her to a fundraising reception at his uncle’s home did nothing to ease them. Maybe it was because his uncle was trying too hard to sound casual. That usually meant he was up to no good.
Matt stared out at the city lights sparkling across the black waters of the harbor. Several moored ships glowed against the dusky skyline, their masts decked out like great, white Christmas trees for the hordes of tourists swarming the waterfront.
“I have work to do,” he told his