You Made Me Love You

by Neesa Hart

  “The restaurant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a fancy place. Girls like it when men take them to fancy places. It says you think they have class.”

  He felt a smile tugging at his lips. Never in his wildest dreams had he pictured himself receiving dating advice from his daughter. “Really?”

  “Yes,” she assured him. “You should dress up.” She slipped from the bed and walked to the closet. Her carriage, he noted, looked just like Liza’s. She had a dancer’s elegance. “You should wear something really nice.” Grace disappeared into his closet. “Something that makes you look handsome and elegant.” Her voice sounded hollow in the confines of the large walk-in space. She emerged seconds later with his black suit. “You should wear this.”

  Eli accepted the suit from her. “Why this one?”

  “Because it makes you look very exotic.”

  He almost choked. “Oh?”

  She studied the suit for a minute, then went back into the closet. She returned with an ivory collarless shirt. “Wear it with this. No tie.” She handed him the shirt. “It’s very fashionable.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He started to remove the shirt from the hanger so he could add it to his suitcase. “Anything else I should know?”

  She studied him for a few seconds while he put the suit and the shirt in his bag. “Yes,” she finally said. “When you go to dinner, open the door for her.”

  “The door?”

  “Good manners are important. She should feel like you enjoy paying attention to her.”

  “I see.”

  “Oh, and tell her the color of her dress makes her look really good.”

  “How do I know what color it will be?”

  Grace gave him a pained look. “Daddy,” she said, her voice slightly strained, “it doesn’t matter what color it is, you’re just supposed to tell her she looks good in it. Girls like that.”

  “Oh,” was all he could say.

  Grace smiled at him. “I have to go now. I have to finish my homework for tomorrow,” she told him.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No. I just have to finish writing a story for Mrs. Petrie.”

  He had a fleeting memory of Liza referring to sex as the transcendental plane of existential bliss. “Do you want me to check it?”

  “Are you too busy?”

  “No,” he assured her. “If you want me to read it, I’ll be glad to.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring it in when I’m done.”

  “Deal.”

  She turned toward the door. “Grace—” Eli arrested her attention.

  “What?”

  “I love you.”

  She hesitated, then smiled at him again. “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  She left the room and Eli sank down on the side of the bed, reeling from the shock.

  13

  How in the world, he wondered the next evening as the plane cut through the ocean-black sky, had he gotten so fortunate? He tilted his head slightly so he could study Liza’s profile. “Did I happen to mention how glad I am that you decided to come?”

  Liza pulled her gaze from the window where she’d been staring at the inky sea of clouds. “Twice.”

  “How many times did you think about changing your mind?”

  “Too many to count,” she confessed. “I had a hundred reasons to stay home.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “If I told you, you’d think I was nuts.”

  Eli wished the lighting in the plane weren’t so dim. He’d give a year of his life if he could decipher her expression. What he needed were a few halogen lightbulbs and a stainless steel work surface. Liza was showing him that, despite his theories to the contrary, courting a woman was nothing at all like conducting research. At least in chemistry, some things were delightfully predictable. “Try me,” he prompted.

  “I heard the music,” she said without blinking. “I decided to dance to it.”

  Eli froze. Liza continued to watch him through narrowed eyes. “I can’t really explain it, Eli,” she told him quietly. “I’m smart enough to know that after this weekend, we’ll no longer have what might be called a casual fling. This is a planned sort of thing. The stakes change when you plan things.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, I’m basically insane for doing this, but do I need to understand why?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  That won him a slight smile. “You’re a brave guy What if I ask you to talk about your feelings?”

  He braced his hands on the arm rests of his seat to keep himself from reaching for her. “I assure you, I’ve not only survived the tender mercies of the paparazzi, but I’ve lived through psychotherapy. You can’t shock me.”

  She swallowed. He liked the way a heated recognition flared in her gaze. “I’ll, uh, try to remember that.”

  “So what is it you wanted?” he prompted. He knew exactly what he wanted, and the closer he leaned to her, the more he wanted it. Her scent, citrusy and delicate, had haunted him for days.

  “I want to know what your plans are for tomorrow morning.”

  A rush of energy shot through him when he considered just how to answer her. The dim cabin light made her eyes look black and exotic. Clad in a purple tee-shirt and slim-fitting green jeans she looked simultaneously innocent and seductive. His plans, he mused, were to wake up with Liza wrapped around him—preferably in the king-sized bed in his apartment, but he was willing to compromise on the venue. “I was hoping,” he said carefully, “that since we’d be taking some of the pressure off by getting away from Breeland for a couple of days, we’d be able to spend some quality time together on the ‘transcendental plane of existential bliss.’”

  “Did they teach you this subtle conversation technique in PR class?” she quipped.

  She was adorable—not to mention sexy as hell. He was fighting the urge to kiss her, knew she’d be embarrassed if he did. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d respond well if I told you I planned to wake up with you draped all over me. Naked.”

  Her mouth twitched. “You’re honest at least.”

  “I try.” He lifted his eyebrows. “But I think I’ve become the master of understatement and subtlety since I’ve been at Breeland. Your colleagues are, uh, interested in what’s going on between us, and they aren’t shy about asking questions.”

  Liza gave him a chastising look. “You don’t think it has anything to do with the way you flirt with me at faculty meetings, do you?”

  He shook his head. Her lips were trembling just enough to taunt him. “Who said I was flirting?”

  Liza tried to frown at him, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think you were in top form when you asked me if I’d be personally modeling the new uniforms we’re considering for the students.”

  “I’m a scientist.” He deliberately kept his voice bland. “I need to do significant research before I can make a decision.”

  Liza drummed her fingers on the arm rest. “Is that why you told Anna you considered this trip to New York to be a fact finding mission?”

  He winced. What was he supposed to have said when Anna had pinned him for an answer—that he was hoping if he spent three days making love to Liza it might take some of the edge off his desire for her and help him think straight again? He shook his head. “I told her that because I didn’t know what else to say.”

  “It seemed repugnant, maybe, to say you were hoping for a little uninterrupted quality time in the sack?”

  That made him frown. “Don’t make this sound ugly. It’s not.”

  She momentarily closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he saw a hint of storminess there. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m edgy, and I’m taking it out on you.”

  “It’s okay. I just don’t want you to think I’m not taking this very seriously.
”

  “Me too.”

  “Good.” He paused. “So what are your plans for tomorrow morning?”

  She took a deep breath. “I want you to promise,” she said softly, “that you’ll go somewhere with me. We can do it early if you have a meeting, but I have something I have to do.”

  Curious at the thready note in her voice, he narrowed his eyes. “My meetings don’t start until after noon. I wanted the morning to spend with you.”

  “So you said. This doesn’t fit into your plans,” she warned him. “I wouldn’t exactly refer to where we’re going as a transcendental plane.”

  He reached for her hand. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Not until tomorrow morning,” she said. Her fingers fluttered in his. “I was sort of hoping you’d help me forget about it until then.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Liza—”

  “I meant that the way it sounded,” she assured him. “I’ve heard that existential bliss is an excellent remedy for anxiety and stress.”

  “Ah, Liza,” he muttered, and gave in to the urge to kiss her. Made necessary by the presence of the other passengers, he kept it brief, but when he raised his head, his pulse had shot as high as their present altitude.

  A lingering sadness still touched her gaze; she seemed to fight a mental battle with it, and finally won. “Since this obviously isn’t going anywhere until we’re on the ground, why don’t we talk about something else?”

  He glanced quickly at the cabin, gauged the proximity of the other passengers. “This is worse than faculty meetings,” he admitted.

  A laugh escaped her. “Uh huh. If it makes you feel any better, I think I read somewhere that the anticipation is almost as satisfying as the, er, culmination.”

  “I’ll bet you a thousand bucks you read that in a woman’s magazine.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because any self-respecting male would tell you that’s a crock. Culmination beats the hell out of anticipation every time. Hands down.”

  Liza laughed. It tickled his nerve endings into razor sharp awareness. The throaty sound of it had him straining for patience. And, he thought wryly as he shifted in his seat, other things, as well. In a deliberate effort to end his own torture, he seized on her invitation to change the subject. “By the way,” he said, “I didn’t have a chance to tell you about my conversation with Grace yesterday.”

  Liza’s eyes lit. “Something good happened, didn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  “She seemed—different—in class today. Lighter. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.” He told her about his conversation with his daughter, careful to leave out Grace’s advice about his relationship with Liza. “Sometimes,” he said as he finished the story, “I wish Mara were still alive. I’d like to give her a piece of my mind.”

  Liza squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad, Eli.”

  “You knew how anxious she was. You tried to tell me.”

  “I suspected at first, but after the conversation you two had in my office, and then that day she talked to me about it after class, I knew. She didn’t actually say it, but I sensed it. Evidently, Paul told her she’d have to go to boarding school after he and Mara were married. When she said she’d live with you, he told her that wouldn’t be an option.”

  Eli swore. “The bastard.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “Who the hell did he think he was?”

  “Who knows.” She rubbed her thumb over his hand. “The important thing is, though, that Grace trusted you enough to let you see how insecure she felt. It means a lot, Eli.”

  “I know. After she left the room, I practically sobbed.”

  Her smile was incredibly tender. “I would have stayed, you know. If she’d wanted to go, I would have stayed.”

  He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I know. I never doubted it.”

  “I hope Grace didn’t either. I hope she knows it would have been all right if she’d decided to come with you.”

  “I think she does. Actually, I don’t think she really wanted to come. It was almost a test, really.” He remembered her parting advice about how he should go about wooing Liza and suppressed a slight smile. Actually, he admitted, Grace had seemed downright ecstatic.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Liza said. “Just knowing you would have brought her was all she needed.”

  He smiled at her then. “Oh, and before I forget, that shirt is a great color on you.”

  Liza tamped down a shiver as she slid into the back seat of the town car with Eli. Tomorrow, she would face the demons. Tonight, she needed oblivion.

  Charlie shut the door behind them, then rounded the car to slide into the driver’s seat. He met Eli’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Where to, Doc?”

  “Home,” Eli said, and crushed Liza’s hand in his.

  Charlie nodded, then silently closed the privacy window between the seats. It slid shut on a soft whir and Eli wasted no more time. He pulled Liza into his arms with a slight groan of triumph. His lips slanted over hers. His hands molded her to him, and her last cognizant thought was the grateful realization that she wouldn’t have to beg for oblivion after all.

  He couldn’t remember the ride from the airport. Nor did he recall the trip up the elevator or the act of finding his key. As he broke their kiss, Eli realized that he and Liza were in his apartment, standing just inside the door. The dim light from the back hallway told him that Martin had stopped by to make sure the place was ready for his arrival—Martin always left a light on.

  His lungs ached from the effort he was making to breathe. Liza’s lips were pressed to his throat, while her hands held him impossibly tight. The tingling sensation in his fingertips drew his attention, and, finally, he realized that he’d worked his fingers under a portion of her tee-shirt. He slid them over her flesh, delighted with the way it quivered and flexed beneath his hands. Lord, the woman was going to kill him.

  As if she’d read his mind, Liza nipped his earlobe. “Eli—” Her voice sounded husky. “Are you still with me?”

  He managed a slight smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She tugged at his head. “Kiss me again.”

  “Liza.” He rubbed his hands up her spine. “Honey, we have all night. Let’s slow down a little.”

  “Why?” Her fingers worked their way to the buttons of his shirt. “Don’t want to,” she mumbled against the hollow of his throat. “Can’t.”

  Eli mentally paused, aware that something seemed wrong. He couldn’t pin the thought down—couldn’t pin anything down as Liza’s mouth worked its way up the column of his neck. But why slow down, indeed, he thought?

  Eli took charge again, covering her mouth with his, making love to her lips with deep, marauding kisses. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this gnawing, aching hunger—perhaps never. Liza was pulling on his hand, so he followed her, oblivious now to everything but the scent and taste of the extraordinary woman in his arms.

  A faint popping sound alerted him that she’d lost patience with his buttons. He felt several of them bounce off his bare feet. When had he lost his shoes? Liza had his shirt open now, and was moving her fingers over his chest, skimming the waistband of his jeans.

  Eli gave her tee-shirt a sharp tug and wrenched it free of her jeans. “Lift your arms,” he muttered. She did, and he sent the shirt sailing across the room. Her bra followed—a filmy wisp of a thing that he dimly noted on its way to the floor—when he thought that maybe he wouldn’t lose his mind if he didn’t have her soon.

  “Eli,” she said against his skin as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. The cuffs caught at his wrists.

  She yanked until those buttons popped off as well. He dragged breath into his lungs. “Honey, wait a minute—”

  She shook her head as she reached for his mouth. He turned away so her lips skimmed his jaw. “I’ve got to get something from my room,” he said softly.
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br />   “Later,” she mumbled.

  “Honey,” he captured her hands, brought them to his chest. Liza’s eye drifted open. At that moment, he thought, she looked heart-stoppingly beautiful. Her lips were swollen, a flush stained her cheeks, and her eyes glowed with a fierce passion. He was fairly certain that no woman had ever looked at him with that ‘take me, I’m yours’ look in her eyes. He swallowed, hard, and held her hands still. “I can’t protect you,” he said. “I’ve got to go . . .”

  Liza shook her head. “You don’t. I took care of it.”

  The admission sent heat rocketing through him. Could she have known how much he craved the undiminished feel of her? “I’m healthy,” he said, years of medical training exerting their influence. “You don’t have to worry.”

  A smile teased the corner of her mouth. “I never do when I’m with you. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” She skated a hand across his collar bone. “Can we stop talking now?”

  He groaned, a deep, guttural kind of sound that simultaneously shocked and amazed him. He’d experienced passion—he’d even had what he’d thought of as really great sex, but nothing in his experience had prepared him for the unraveling sensation he felt whenever Liza touched him. How was she doing this to him? What was she doing to him?

  Seconds later, he admitted that he didn’t care as they sank to the carpet—he didn’t care that a perfectly decent bed was a few steps away, or that he should be taking his time with her, or that maybe she wouldn’t want it this way. All he cared about at the moment was joining himself to her. He needed it, he realized. He ached for it.

  “Liza,” his voice was gravelly. It hurt to talk. “Baby, tell me—”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Oh, yes.”

  Eli didn’t need further encouragement. With a swift flex of his hips, he put himself where he most wanted to be. An instant later, she was following him to the moon. Liza clung to him when they toppled over the edge. She held him so tightly, his ribs ached.

  It felt good. So damned good. He closed his eyes and reveled in the sense of freedom that followed the realization that they belonged to each other now. Threading his hands through her hair, he smoothed it over the carpet. He brought his mouth to hers, nipped gently at her lower lip. “You’re amazing,” he whispered. “Amazing.”