by Neesa Hart
She glared at him. “That’s not fair. I’ve got too much work to do to spend another evening out. I can’t spare the time.”
He shrugged. “I’m not particularly concerned with being fair. I’m concerned with finding out what you’re hiding between all those carefully built walls you have.” His gaze narrowed. “I’m concerned with making you realize that this energy you feel when we’re together isn’t going away.” Moving a step closer, he loomed over her. “I’m concerned,” he said, his voice a low whisper, “with giving you a glimpse of what it’s going to be like when we’re as close as we can possibly be.”
“Eli—”
He snaked one hand around her waist. “And mostly, I’m concerned with learning where you hide the vibrant, passionate woman I saw on stage. I wanted her then. I want her now. Those are my terms.”
Her temperature had spiked up several degrees, and her lungs felt tight and constricted. Drawing a suffocated breath, she said, “You’re not giving me much choice, are you?”
“No,” he said, tightening his hold on her waist. “I’m not.”
She wavered on indecision, then slowly nodded. “All right. I’ll be there.”
The flare of heat in his eyes stole her breath. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Six hours later, Liza shot Anna a wry glance across the table in a local restaurant and asked herself how in the world she’d gotten sucked into this. Anna’s steady refusal to meet her gaze told her Anna knew exactly what she was thinking. She was simultaneously infuriated and fascinated with The King of the Jungle. She wondered if antelope and zebra felt this way in the few moments before they became prey to a leonine hunter.
“Eli,” Anna was saying, “I’m so glad you were able to join us tonight.”
Eli gave Liza a knowing look. “So am I.”
Anna ignored the undercurrent of tension and indicated the man on her left. “Bill was eager to meet you.”
Bill Maxin, a member of Breeland’s board of visitors, and one of the school’s largest financial contributors, cleared his throat. “I’m sure Anna has told you how pleased we are to have you here this summer.”
Eli slanted a look at Liza. His lips twitched, as if he sensed the train of her thoughts. “The pleasure’s mine, I assure you. I’m glad Anna suggested this.” He glanced at Liza again. “Aren’t you?”
Liza resisted the urge to kick his shin under the table. Instead, she indicated the dimly lit restaurant with a sweep of her hand. “This is one of our favorite places to come when we want to get away from the dining hall.” He couldn’t possibly miss the chill in her voice. “Breeland is a small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.” She gave him a warning look. “I’ve found that it’s easier not to invite speculation.”
He looked amused, and, she admitted, devastatingly attractive. “It’s nice here.” He glanced around, this man who was used to high-ticket fundraisers and glamorous social events. “Thanks for suggesting it,” he told Anna.
She nodded. “It’s a nice break from the noise—which, you’ll soon find, can be deafening during the first few days of the summer session.”
Bill laughed. “It usually takes a week or so for us to tire all those girls out enough to get them to heed the lights out time. By then, they’re hitting their bunks as early as possible.”
“That explains,” Eli said, “the ruckus I heard when I went to pick up Grace’s sitter.”
“Lindsay worked out for you?” Liza asked.
“Yes.” He glanced at her. “That was a great idea on your part. Grace really likes her.”
“She really likes Grace. I think they’ll get on well together.”
He turned back to the older couple. “I went to pick her up, and the resident director—”
“Amelia Pankhurst,” Anna supplied.
Liza gave him a dry look. Eli’s lips twitched. “Ms. Pankhurst was looking a little harried. I noticed the noise level was, uh, spectacular.”
Bill shook his head. “Nothing in the world quite like the collective squeals of teenage girls.”
“Bill,” Anna told Eli, “never had the fortune of having daughters in his home. He and Charlotte had four sons.”
Eli nodded thoughtfully. “I’m fairly certain I don’t remember doing much squealing as a teen.”
The thought was so ludicrous, Liza nearly choked on her water. Eli shot her a wry look. “All right?”
She nodded. “Just trying to picture you dreamily staring at some pin-up girl and squealing. The image got the better of me.”
“Actually,” he confessed, his eyes gleaming at her, “I was quite enamored with Marie Curie.”
With little imagination, she could see him sitting at a dimly lit desk pouring over the writings of the Nobel prize–winning woman chemist. “I’m sure you were.”
“I never could find a picture of her to hang on my wall, though.”
“Since the only picture of Madame Curie I’ve ever seen made her look more like her husband Pierre than a pin-up model, I’m not surprised.”
Eli laughed. The sound tripped a few hidden triggers in Liza’s nervous system. “I’m a brain man myself. As much as my father tried to impress on me the aesthetic value of Marilyn Monroe’s attributes, I was more, er, inspired, by neural synapses.”
Everyone laughed. Eli held Liza’s gaze a few seconds longer, then turned to Bill and deftly changed the subject, “So tell me how you got connected with Breeland, Bill.”
“Married a Breeland grad,” Bill said with characteristic pride. He loved the school almost as much as he had loved his late wife. Liza felt herself relaxing. She genuinely liked Bill Maxin, and the feeling, she knew, was mutual. With characteristic insight, Anna had known that the two men would relate well. She sent her friend a shrewd look.
Anna finally met her gaze. The creases that dug deep at the corners of her eyes were crinkled in merriment. Silently, Anna lifted her glass in a slight salute. Liza shook her head at her and leaned back in her chair. At least, she mused, Bill loved to talk. She wouldn’t be expected to pull much weight in the evening’s conversation.
As the evening progressed, Eli impressed her with his attention to Bill’s seemingly endless line of questions, his easy banter with Anna, and the almost seamless way he fitted himself into the casual atmosphere. He was accustomed, she knew, to a circle of highly sophisticated intellectuals. But he laughed a genuine laugh at Bill’s jokes, responded with smooth grace to Anna’s probing queries, and managed, somehow, to look relaxed and comfortable in the quaint atmosphere.
Blast him, Liza thought, taking another sip of her water. Her nerves were stretched tighter than Spandex. Worse, the knowing glances he sent her told her that he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Generally, nothing in his demeanor suggested that he felt the shimmering tension in the air between them. Then, in the space between one breath and the next, he’d give her a look that seared a path all the way to her nerve endings. The brightness she saw in his eyes told her that he not only knew, he was reveling in it.
Liza drew a calming breath and surreptitiously glanced at her watch. Another hour at most, and the torture would be over.
“Eli,” Anna said as they savored dessert, “it’s obvious how much you love what you do. I’d like to know what you enjoy about the process of research.”
He set his glass down with a slight smile. “Chemical research is such a challenging field. Some find it boring, I know, but it’s the mysterious nature of the science that attracts me. I’m as far out on the edge as it’s possible to be. Sometimes it can even be dangerous, but the thrill of discovery is worth the effort. When I’ve unlocked the mystery, I feel simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted.” He looked at Liza. “It’s pure magic. I imagine you feel that way when you—dance.”
She swallowed. His pause had been deliberate and suggestive, and she could cheerfully have killed him for it. With careful precision, she set down her water glass. “Actually,” she said, “when I dance, I lik
e to attack the stage. If I think of the stage as my battlefield and the choreography as my war strategy, I find that the aggression gives the art a certain energy.” She met his gaze in open challenge. “I imagine that I’m annihilating the music with each step—draining the blood from it, so to speak.”
Eli laughed. Anna, she noted from the corner of her gaze, looked on the verge of hysteria, while poor Bill seemed as oblivious and benevolent as usual. Liza didn’t take her gaze from Eli’s. “Most choreographers tell me they think twice before attempting to design a piece for me.”
“I don’t doubt it.” His dimple was back.
She felt a surge of irritation that matched the sudden flushed feeling on the surface of her skin. She dropped her folded napkin to the table. “And speaking of choreography, I still have some work to do on a few routines. I really need to go.”
She was halfway out of her chair when Eli rose and reached for the check. “Actually,” he said, “I do, too.” He flashed Anna and Bill a slight smile. “Thanks so much for inviting me tonight.”
Anna snatched the bill from him. “No, no, it’s our treat.” She glanced at Liza. “Liza will tell you, we like to make our guests feel welcome.”
Liza could think of several things she’d like to make him feel, and welcome wasn’t one of them. She flashed Anna a wry look. “Hospitality is your strong suit, not mine.”
The older woman’s eyes sparkled. “But you’re learning, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“At three.” Liza reached for her purse. “Good night, Bill. Thanks again.”
“My pleasure.” He nodded to Eli. “We’ll have to do this again before the summer’s over.”
“I’d like that.” Eli looped his fingers beneath her elbow as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “We’ll see you both later.”
Before she could respond, he was ushering her from the restaurant. She waited until they reached the sidewalk before she freed her elbow from his grip. “I should kill you.”
He gave her a deceptively innocent look. “What?”
She scowled at him and made an expressive gesture with her hands. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Those looks you were giving me, well, you practically steamed the water in my glass.”
His mouth quirked into a slight smile. “You noticed.”
“You don’t have to sound so pleased with yourself.” She stalked several paces away from him, pacing the sidewalk in agitation. “Damn it, Eli, it’s one thing for you to play this game with me when we’re alone—”
“It’s not a game, Liza.”
She chose to ignore that. “It’s another thing entirely for you to do it in public.”
“Is that why you told me dancing is like terrorism?”
“I said warfare, not terrorism.”
He was laughing at her. She could see it in his eyes. “My mistake.” Tilting his head to one side, he crossed his arms across his chest. He looked, she noted in quiet disgust, absolutely beautiful tonight. In a pristine white shirt and perfectly fitted black jeans, he oozed sex appeal—and she was the one getting slimed. “Why are you so agitated?”
At that, she stopped pacing. “Why am I—” She stopped before she started sputtering. Stalking across the few paces between them, she said in a low voice, “You tried to seduce me in front of my boss, a member of my board, and a restaurant full of people.”
He didn’t blink. “Did it work?”
The knot of frustration in her belly was giving way to humor. “You aren’t even going to deny it, are you?”
“No.” He gently toyed with one of her earrings. The warmth of his hand spread goose-bumps along her flesh. “Are you?”
Distracted, she realized, by the feel of his hand, she’d lost the thread of the conversation. “Am I what?”
“Going to deny what’s going on here.” His voice was casually amused. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“What’s going on here,” she said quietly, “is that you’ve completely lost your mind. Eli, you can’t keep doing this to me.”
“Frustrating you?” he asked. “Believe me, that’s not my plan. I’m hoping to get to the satisfaction part of this relationship just as soon as possible.”
“And everyone in there knew it, too.” She hoped the dim light from the street lamp would sufficiently disguise the flush on her skin.
His gaze turned thoughtful. “Would I have had the same response if I’d done it in private, or would you have taken the bait?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Sure about that?”
“Eli.” Liza reached for her patience—a valiant effort to be sure when he had her teetering so completely off balance. “Did you listen to a word I said earlier today?”
“All of ’em. And I decided to disregard your very practical advice that we have a logistical nightmare on our hands. Why don’t you leave that up to me?”
“You have got to be kidding.”
“Uh uh. I’m trying to seduce you into thinking of what’s between us as more than a battle of wills.” He moved an almost imperceptible distance closer. “I want you to feel the heat and like it. I like it.”
Liza threw up her hands. “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that you barely know me—and I barely know you?”
His beautiful lips moved closer to hers. “I know you, Liza. I’ve known since I watched you dance. It’s just as I said—we’re like a volatile chemical combination. Given the right environment, the results are going to be spectacular.”
The breath froze in her lungs. “Or disastrous. Look, you’re in a very difficult time in your life. I can understand why you might think that this—”
“Stop that.” He frowned at her. “This doesn’t have a damned thing to do with my former wife.”
“She just died, Eli. Surely you know—”
“I know that whatever feelings I had for Mara died years before she did. Don’t talk yourself into believing that what I feel for you is even remotely related to some latent sense of longing for Mara. It’s not.” He wiped a hand over his face. “Mara died, and it’s a tragedy that her life ended so early, but I’d be lying to you and to myself if I told you I felt anything for her other than pity.”
“Oh.”
“So now that we’ve dispatched with that, do you have any more objections you want to offer.”
She drew a calming breath. “It’s not that I’m objecting, exactly.” At the flare of heat in his eyes, she backed up a step. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Honey, you can’t make a comment like that and not expect me to get ideas.”
“The point I’m making,” she said through gritted teeth, “is that I think we should spend some time getting to know one another before we jump into something we might both regret.”
“I’m not going to regret a moment I spend with you.” He looked amused, now, and it irritated her.
“Just because you live in a world where actions have no consequences doesn’t mean—”
He had the gall to laugh. “You know, you sounded just like a schoolteacher when you said that.”
“I am a schoolteacher, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t laugh at me.”
His expression sobered. “I’m not laughing, Liza. I’m just trying to keep from pouncing on you.”
“Eli—”
“Look.” He held out his hand in silent entreaty. “I’m not totally insensitive to what you’re trying to tell me.”
“But you don’t think that maybe the timing is rotten?”
“As for my relationship with Mara, or lack thereof, you’re going to have to take my word for that. About the other, well, what’s really the harm in having the faculty and staff talking about our relationship?”
“Other than the fact that it would wreak havoc with my credibility?”
“Why? Because you’re human. Because you can feel something for someone and act on those feelings?”
No, she thought, because I made this mistake o
nce and I pay for it almost every day of my life. “No,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice calm, “but just because I feel something doesn’t mean I have to act on it, you know.”
“Let’s not forget that chemistry is my strong suit. I happen to be one of the world’s leading experts on uncontrolled reactions.”
“And modest, too,” she quipped. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I was wondering when you were going to realize that—the lucky part, I mean.”
“You mean you don’t seduce every woman you meet?”
“No.” He drew the word out until it caressed her tingling nerve endings. “Just the ones I really want.” Moving closer, he blocked her view of everything but his wide chest and impossibly dynamic face. “The ones who seduce me first.”
Liza’s eyes drifted shut. “Would it do me any good at all to launch into a lecture on the merits of self-restraint?”
His laugh made her tremble. “None.”
“I suppose you didn’t go to a Catholic school?”
“Public.”
“Darn. The nuns would have instilled a little self-control in you.”
“You got yours from Breeland?” he guessed.
“Yes.”
“Ever lost control, Liza? Ever lost control and liked it?”
Once. Once, and the consequences nearly killed me. “That’s not what—”
He interrupted her by sweeping his thumb over her sensitive skin. “I can’t help myself. The elements are already mixed. We just have to wait and see what kind of reaction we’re going to get.”
“You can’t imagine what you’re asking from me.”
He tipped her chin up with his hand, waited for her to meet his gaze. “It’ll be magic, Liza. Don’t be afraid of it.”
She trembled. “You’re not being fair.”
“I don’t have time.” He raised her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her wrist. “And unless I miss my guess, neither do you.”
6
“Absolutely not,” Eli told Martin Wilkins. “I’m not doing it.” It was Sunday afternoon, and he and Martin were having their weekly briefing on the demands for Eli’s time and professional expertise.