You Made Me Love You

by Neesa Hart

  Liza took a calming breath. A shiver slid down her spine as she silently prayed this conversation didn’t take the nasty turn it so easily could. “Why didn’t you like Paul?”

  “He was an actor.” Grace dropped her voice as if saying a distasteful word.

  Liza prompted, “Is there something wrong with being an actor?”

  “He pretended all the time. Even when he wasn’t on stage—he still pretended. Mama didn’t think so, but he did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Mama was there, he pretended to like me.”

  “But you don’t think he really did?” She held her breath.

  “He told me he didn’t.” Grace picked at a snag on her leotard. “He told me he thought I was a spoiled brat.”

  “When?”

  “Lots of times. He used to say that when he and Mama got married, he was going to make me go away.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I could go live with my father.”

  “You could have.”

  “Paul said Father wouldn’t let me.”

  Grace’s lips had begun to tremble. Liza reached for her hand. “Did you believe him?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.” Her fingers tightened on Liza’s.

  “Why?”

  “Because Grandmother said so, too. And so did Mama. She used to tell me that Daddy never had time for me because nothing was more important to him than his work in the lab. He didn’t come to see us very often. And that made me worry—” she sniffled—“Now I’m worried that if we leave here, he’ll go back to the lab, and he won’t want me in his way anymore.”

  Liza exhaled a frustrated sigh as she considered the possibility of tracking down Paul and giving him a liberal piece of her mind. “Did you ask your father about that?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I was scared to at first. Then after—after the accident—I was more scared.”

  “Why?”

  Grace’s breathing had turned shallow. She pulled her hand from Liza’s and slid off the bench. “I can’t tell you.”

  “I’m your friend, Grace. You can trust me.”

  Grace shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “You’d tell my father, and he’d make me leave.”

  Liza carefully considered her next words. “Then is it all right if I ask you one more question?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Was there any other reason you didn’t like Paul?” Liza held her breath while she waited for Grace’s response.

  The child scooped up her gym bag and tossed it onto her shoulder. “He acted like a jerk,” she said. “May I go to lunch now?”

  Liza exhaled a sigh of relief. Grace’s ready response told her more than enough to put her mind at ease about the circumstances surrounding Mara’s relationship with her fiancé[. “Sure. Just promise you’ll consider the tap duet.”

  “I will.”

  “Why don’t you talk it over with Lindsay, and the two of you can let me know tomorrow?”

  “All right.” Grace headed for the door, then turned back. “Are you going to tell my father what I said about my grandmother and Paul?”

  “No.” Liza gave her a shrewd look. “Are you?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Fair enough. See you tomorrow.”

  As Grace hurried out the door, Liza, weak with relief, leaned back against the bench. Whatever was bothering that child, whatever scars she was carrying from her mother’s death, they weren’t as deep as Liza had once feared. The faceless Paul might have been a jerk, but at least he hadn’t been a monster. She was fairly certain she wouldn’t have had the courage to tell Eli if he had been.

  * * *

  “What the hell do you mean, you aren’t going to tell me?” Eli demanded as he studied her in the dim light of the lab.

  Liza glared at him. “Don’t yell at me.”

  “I’m not yelling.” Barely, he acknowledged, but he was managing to keep his voice under control. “But Liza, what do you expect? You come in here and tell me you had an extremely enlightening conversation with my child today, but you’re aren’t going to tell me the facts.”

  “I promised her I wouldn’t.”

  It took a supreme effort of self-control, but he managed to wrestle his straining patience to the ground. “Well, excuse me, but I was under the impression that ten-year-old children aren’t always in a position to know what’s best for them.”

  “Oh, cut it out. Don’t you think I’d tell you if it were something I felt you needed to know? For crying out loud, Eli, I’m on your side. Would you please remember that?”

  He stared at her, breathing heavily. Finally, he uttered a soft curse as he raked a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

  She continued to glare at him. “You should be. I only told you because I thought you’d like to know that she’s starting to open up a little—and that no matter what your worst fears are, they probably aren’t grounded.”

  How could she have known, he wondered. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Liza rounded the lab table to stand next to him. “You were afraid that Mara’s fiancé had hurt Grace, weren’t you?”

  The words drove a wedge of ice through his soul. He’d never voiced that fear aloud. His voice sounded hoarse when he answered her. “How did you know that?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of the world,” she told him gently. “Sometimes, I think I’ve seen too much of it—even here in my little corner of Terrance, Georgia, I’ve seen things I wish I hadn’t. Any parent in your position would have that kind of fear.” Liza touched his hand. Her fingers felt warm on his suddenly cold skin. “I can’t be absolutely sure, of course, but based on what Grace told me today, I’m almost positive. She didn’t like Paul very much, but she wasn’t afraid of him.”

  Eli closed his eyes and let the feeling of relief wash over him. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

  “Yes. You’ll have to get the rest directly from Grace.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help her?”

  “Continue to encourage her. Let her know how much you love her. You saw how well she responded to that when you talked to her in my office. She needs to feel sure of you.” I need to feel sure of you, she added silently.

  He nodded. “I’m trying.”

  “And you’re doing really well.” He must have looked skeptical then, because Liza smoothed a crease from his forehead with her forefinger. “Really, you are.”

  “I’ve been told by a number of experts that my communication skills leave something to be desired.”

  “Then they’re wrong. You communicate with me just fine.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “I thought you said I was tacky.”

  “You have your moments.”

  “And I’ve been snapping at you all week?”

  “You noticed.”

  Eyes full of laughter, he bent his head to kiss her. “Yes. Will it do me any good to apologize?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What if I tell you that my only excuse is that Martin is nagging me like an old woman, my in-laws are being a royal pain in the ass, and you’ve got me tied into knots of sexual frustration? Hell, trying to be alone with you takes a field marshall’s strategic expertise.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Don’t sound so damned happy about it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Liar.” He rubbed his hands up her spine. “When is this going to get better?”

  “Beats me. If it’s any consolation, though, your students love you. We’re getting raves about your classes. Although I heard on the student grapevine that they’re eagerly hoping for a repeat of the flower pot incident.”

  “I’m enjoying this. I wasn’t sure that I would, but I’m finding that dragging tricks out of my bag to make the topic approachable is challenging.”

  “I’ve never heard such g
lowing reviews about acid/base experiments. What exactly did you do that day?”

  “If you dissolve an Alka-Selzer in water, then dump the solution in diluted ammonia, it’ll cause a titration and turn blue.”

  She gave him a slightly chastising look. “In English?”

  Eli tweaked her nose. “If you multiply the ratio of an acid like Alka-Selzer to a base like ammonia, you can calculate the precise amount of time it takes for the mixture to react and change color. It’s the same principle as litmus paper. I synchronized twenty vials to the 1812 Overture.”

  Liza laughed and the sound warmed him. “Very clever.”

  “The girls liked it.”

  “So I heard. The math teacher is complaining that the students like you best.”

  “The math teacher,” he said with a slight smile, “is trying to teach them the Pythagorean theorem. Not much competition there.”

  “She’s not as cute as you, either.”

  “She’s sixty-three years old.”

  “See?”

  He laughed again as he smoothed his hands down her back. “So now that we’ve established that I’m the most sought after male on campus—”

  “You’re the only male on campus.”

  “A guy’s gotta love odds like that.”

  “You would.”

  He gave her an irreverent grin. “The operative question here is, just what are you going to do with me now that you’ve caught me, Ms. Kincaid?”

  She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I’m thinking of chaining you to the lab table and having my wicked way with your body.”

  Lord, Liza was the most genuine person he’d ever known. After his marriage, he’d invested the bulk of his passions and energies into his research. The few relationships he’d pursued had been with women sophisticated enough to know the rules of temporary liaisons. With Liza, everything was different. And that thought scared him to death—just not enough to walk away from it. “What if someone caught us.”

  “A little terror adds spice, I’ve heard.”

  He drew a shuddering breath as he smoothed her hair off her forehead. “Then except for the fact that I’ve got a ten-year-old daughter at home; you’ve got an apartment building full of faculty members; our class schedules; the three times a day I talk to my lawyers; and your endless round of meetings, this should be a piece of cake.”

  “I see you’re beginning to get the hang of this,” she told him with a wry smile.

  “I am.” He captured her gaze then. “That’s why I think you should come to New York with me this weekend.”

  She stilled. “What?”

  Eli nodded. “I’ve got to go. I didn’t want to, but Martin has finally drilled it into my head that I’ve got to put the fear of God in the Paschells.”

  She studied his inscrutable expression. “Things are getting worse, aren’t they?”

  “The custody issue is adding fuel to the publicity fire. Martin thinks I can do some serious damage control if I just grant a few interviews with key people.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  He shrugged. “So I’m going to go up there on Friday evening so I can spend Saturday and Sunday talking to the press. I’m going to talk to my lawyer about the Paschells—and then I’m coming back on Sunday night.” He paused. “I want you to come with me.”

  Liza eased out of his embrace. “You’ll be busy. I’m sure I’ll be in your way.”

  “No, you won’t. I didn’t say I was going to spend every waking moment with these people. Lord, they drive me up a wall after about an hour. I just want to reassure the lab that I’m taking this seriously and answer enough questions to make Dally look like an ass. The rest of the time, I’d be all yours.”

  He watched her closely. She began studying a row of test tubes as she ran her hands absently over the slate top of the lab table. “I don’t know, Eli. It’s difficult for me to leave campus, and I—”

  “Anna told me it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I’ll bet she did.”

  He touched her shoulder, then eased her around to face him. “We’ll have almost an entire weekend together. I’ll make as much time for you as I can.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “You don’t want to go,” he said carefully. “Why not?”

  “Good grief, Eli, experts agree that you’re one of the greatest minds of the century. You figure it out.”

  His mouth twitched. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. When they do those rankings, they don’t ask questions on the test about how well a person handles his interpersonal relationships.”

  She gave him a pained look. “I’m not sure I can explain it. New York is—hard for me. And if I went with you, we’d sleep together. Every night. I’d know that was your expectation, and I’d have to plan for it.” She scowled. “It would feel like prom night, for God’s sake. And once was enough, thank you.”

  With the pad of his thumb, he rubbed the corner of her mouth. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope that would be the outcome, but actually, I just thought we’d have some time together. Some time when we didn’t have the pressures of your responsibilities here.” Or, he silently added as he fought a twinge of resentment, your worries about what people are going to say.

  “When would that be? Coffee breaks during television interviews?”

  “I’ll make time,” he assured her. “I’m capable of that.”

  “Like you were capable of it when you were married to Mara? Forgive my cynicism.”

  With a sharp breath, he pulled back, stung. “That was low, Liza. And it’s not like you.”

  Her belligerent expression held a second longer, then crumbled into a look of contrition. “No. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “This whole thing is hard on me, too.”

  His eyes drifted shut. He really was a selfish bastard. He hadn’t even stopped to consider the toll that their stolen relationship, or the resultant gossip might be taking on her. He’d been so consumed with feeling sorry for himself, he hadn’t given Liza’s frustrations a second thought. “I’m a real bastard sometimes, you know that?”

  “It’s not that. Look. I’m sorry I can’t be as blas é as you are about the whole thing.”

  Was she kidding? He searched her face for a clue. No, she was serious. Dead serious. How the hell, he wondered, had he managed to convince her that he wasn’t unsettled by all this? His attraction to this woman—his cravings for this woman were beginning to consume him. And she thought he had nothing to be nervous about. “My God,” he said quietly. “You’re serious.”

  Her eyes turned cloudy. “You don’t have to make fun of me.”

  “I’m not. Lord, whatever you think, don’t think that. Believe me, honey, I’m just as much a wreck as you are.”

  He saw the look of surprise on her face. “You’re kidding.”

  “No way.”

  “What have you got to be nervous about?”

  He almost laughed out loud. “How about the fact,” he said carefully, “that my last serious relationship—” she flinched when he said the word serious, but he plowed ahead—“turned into a spectacular failure? Or maybe we could talk about the fact that we’ve both agreed we aren’t exactly well-suited temperamentally. I’m a serious mad scientist—”

  “And I’m a neurotic, temperamental artist.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “If you say so.” “You could at least try to argue with me.”

  “Liza,” Eli placed his hands on her shoulders. “I told you”—he waved a hand between them—“this is new to me. I’m not prone to impulsive acts, and especially not to impulsive relationships. You knocked the breath out of me, and I’m trying to deal with that. I just thought if we spent some time together out of this environment, we could better explore what’s going on here.”

  “So it’s sort of like changing the variables in a chemistry experiment?”

  He winced. “I wasn’t trying to make it sound clinical.”

  �
�You weren’t.” He wasn’t sure if that was a question or not, so he kept silent while she studied his face. He wished he could read the enigmatic shifts in her expression. Finally, she wrapped her fingers around his wrists and eased his hands from her shoulders. “That’s part of who you are, Eli. You like to carefully think things through before you make decisions. While I usually just jump off a cliff and worry about the consequences later.”

  He’d never thought of her that way. She seemed so—cautious. Except, an inner voice told him, when she danced, and, he’d learned, when she made love. Then, nothing held her back. “Come with me,” he said quietly. “Please.”

  She studied him a moment longer, then laid her hand against his jaw. “I shouldn’t let you do this to me.”

  “But you’re going to?”

  With a soft sigh, she nodded. “I’m afraid I am.”

  “What did she say?” Anna asked him the following afternoon.

  “She said she’d go.”

  “Hmm.” The older woman poured him a second glass of iced tea from the pitcher on her coffee table. “You’d better plan on kidnapping her. She’ll probably change her mind.”

  Eli laughed. He had come to ask Anna if she’d be willing to watch Grace for the weekend. His daughter seemed to like Anna, and the feeling was obviously mutual. He’d seen them walking across campus together several times. “Do you think so?” he asked.

  “Definitely. The more Liza thinks, the less likely she is to take a risk on something. She’ll come up with a million reasons not to go.”

  “Do you think she should go?” he asked softly.

  Anna gave him a sly grin. “Now, what kind of manager would I be if I suggested that my assistant go skipping off to New York while we’re up to our ears in administrative details?”

  “Someone who cares a lot about her.”

  Anna’s eyes twinkled. “Well, that’s true, at least.” She took a sip of her tea. “What I think is that Liza could afford a little more impulse in her life.”

  “She just tried to convince me that she makes too many decisions without considering the consequences.”

  Anna scoffed. “That’s because she still thinks she’s paying for choices she made years ago.”

  “Drew,” he said.