You Made Me Love You

by Neesa Hart

  Her breath fanned across his cheek. Her eyes were still tightly shut. He could feel the little aftershocks rippling through her body, and he fully absorbed each one. A soft smile touched her lips before she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “Thanks. I’m kind of fond of you, too.”

  Something close to exultation shot through him. With a slight groan of triumph, Eli slanted his mouth over hers again, and kissed her until he felt her begin to shiver. Heat followed the shivering. He wasn’t sure anymore where he ended and she began.

  “Eli—?” She met his gaze in the dim light.

  He inhaled a great breath of her citrusy, musky scent. “Wanna go again?” he said with a slight smile.

  Liza flexed a strategically placed hand. “And again, and again . . .”

  * * *

  She awoke to a wealth of strange sensations. Her hand was asleep. The front of her body was freezing, while the back was impossibly warm. Her legs ached as if she’d spent too long on a new routine. And the bed felt—grainy. Like carpet.

  Liza’s eyes popped open. It was carpet. She and Eli had fallen asleep on the floor of his living room after he’d taken her places she’d never even dreamed of. He lay stretched against her back, with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The carpet, she realized, was rubbing her skin raw, and her hand was asleep because she’d been using her arm as a pillow. Gently, she eased away from him and sat up.

  Muscles creaked and groaned from the effort. Liza rubbed at a particularly stiff spot on her neck. A large, warm hand covered hers. “Sore?” he questioned.

  That slight purr of his accent was back. It made her shiver. He lay in the shadows, and his skin looked dark against the pale gray carpet. With his black hair spilling over his forehead and shoulders, and his amber eyes glittering at her, he reminded her of a black panther—sleek and hard and beautiful. “It’s just stiff,” she answered him, then moaned when his thumb found a particularly tender spot.

  His lips curved into a smile. His fingers kneaded the flesh, working at the knotted muscle. “Hold on,” he told her. “You’ve got quite a knot here.”

  She could feel the muscle rolling beneath the steady pressure of his fingers. “How do you do that?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.

  “Physiology training. I took classes in med school.”

  Something about that seemed impossibly funny. Liza couldn’t quite stifle a giggle.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  She shook her head. “Just wondering what else you learned in, er, physiology.”

  His grin turned wicked. “Enough to keep you awake for the rest of the night.”

  “I was sort of counting on it.” She groaned again when his hand worked its way up the knotted muscles in her neck.

  “Good grief. You’re as tight as a bowstring up here.” He eased her around so she sat between his legs, her back pressed to his chest. “Lean forward a little.”

  She didn’t want to. It felt too good where she was. He must have sensed her hesitation because his hand applied an easy pressure to her neck until she tipped forward. Gently he pushed her hair over her shoulder, then began massaging her back in slow, smooth strokes. “That’s it,” he crooned. “I’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

  She closed her eyes and let the sensation have her. The rhythm of his hands began to lull her into a deep lassitude. She was so relaxed, she hardly noticed that one of his hands had worked its way around her rib cage and to the front of her body. When it swept a slow, sensuous path from her hip, across her abdomen and lower, the lassitude gave way to an entirely different sensation. “Eli, what are you—”

  His laugh was a low purr in her ear. “What do you think?”

  Liza dropped her head back against his shoulder. “Is my massage over?”

  “Just starting.” He kissed her nape.

  Liza smiled. “You want to try the bed this time?”

  He nipped her earlobe. “Actually, I was thinking of the shower . . .”

  “You’re assuming that I can walk.”

  “I’ll carry you.”

  That made her laugh. “How chivalrous.”

  “If it offends your feminine sensibilities, you can carry me next time, how’s that?”

  It had never been like this for her, she realized. She’d never had a lover who could play and tease and laugh with her—never at her. After Drew, she’d had few relationships, and those had been short and unmemorable. An unexpected rush of tears pricked her eyes. Liza turned in his arms so she could press her mouth to his. She poured everything she had into that kiss, and when she finally released his lips, he looked at her with gentle bemusement. “What was that for?” he asked.

  “Chemistry lessons,” she told him.

  Eli managed a slight laugh, then levered himself to his feet. “Come on.” He extended his hand toward her. “I want that shower. I’ve got carpet burns on my butt.”

  Liza accepted his hand and let him pull her to her feet. She swayed once she got there. With a low chuckle, Eli wrapped an arm around her waist. “Maybe I will have to carry you.”

  “Maybe,” she said absently. Something white on the carpet caught her eye. It was a button, she realized, and then spotted another. A vague memory had her reaching for his shirt. When she shook it out, she was surprised to see the shredded placket where the buttons had put up such a fight. The cuffs, too, were torn. Liza studied the shirt for an instant, then looked at Eli in amazement. “I tore your clothes off,” she announced.

  His eyes glittered. “I noticed.”

  Liza blushed. She felt it race over her skin and was suddenly aware that they were naked. Why hadn’t she realized it before, she wondered? She pressed the shirt to her chest. “I—I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

  Eli gently pried the mangled shirt from her fingers. “Don’t bother,” he told her. With a flick of his wrist, he slung it over his shoulder. “I think I’ll keep it as a souvenir.”

  Six hours later, Eli stood with his feet braced apart, staring out the window at the weakening darkness. Orange wedges of sunlight intruded into the night sky, pushing away the inky black cover that softened the edges of the city and knocked the glare from reality. He cast a glance over his shoulder where Liza lay sleeping in his bed. This morning, he suspected, would change things forever.

  She’d been incredibly open with him—he’d seen a side of Liza Kincaid that she’d always kept closely guarded, even when they’d made love. Last night, however, she’d shown him that part—the same part he’d seen while watching her dance. He turned toward the window again. He’d been so close to her, but not, it seemed close enough.

  With a slight sigh, he padded toward the shower. Soon, the sun would be up. With the advantage of daylight, he could look more closely for answers.

  “Hi.” Liza, wrapped in his robe, walked into the kitchen.

  Eli leaned back against his kitchen counter with a cereal bowl balanced in his hand. “Good morning.” He studied her over the rim of the bowl. She looked relaxed. He was glad. He was fairly certain he would have hated it if she’d been nervous.

  Liza wiped a hand through her hair as she crossed to the refrigerator. “Do you have anything in here besides Grace’s cereal?”

  He indicated his bowl with a nod of his head. “Sorry. I forgot to tell Martin to stock the place. I cleaned it out before Grace and I left for Terrance.”

  “You have milk,” she said, her eyebrows lifting as she looked at his bowl.

  “Powdered.”

  “Ugh.”

  He laughed. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to point out that chemically speaking, there’s no difference between this and the real thing.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re eating that.”

  “I’m hungry.” He set the bowl on the counter. “I’m also curious.”

  Liza pulled open the refrigerator and stuck her head inside. “About what?”

  Eli took a deep breath. “Liza—”

  Her head appea
red from behind the door. “Geez, Eli, you don’t even have preserves in here. I thought for sure I could find crackers and jam.”

  “I want to ask you something,” he said quietly.

  She emerged from the refrigerator with a bottle of applesauce. “What?”

  He studied her face for a second, the same face that had looked at him with unbridled passion when she’d called his name. The same eyes that had met his gaze with uninhibited honesty. The same lips, he hoped, that would finally tell him the secrets that had put those shadows on her heart. “Who,” he said quietly, “is Joshua?”

  14

  Liza froze. “What?”

  “Joshua,” Eli repeated. “Who is he?”

  The color drained from her face. “Why do you ask?”

  “You said his name last night in your sleep.” Eli took a step closer. “I want to know why.”

  She blinked rapidly. “Oh.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, I have a lot to say. I just—” Her expression had turned vulnerable—“I want you to go with me somewhere before I tell you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You mentioned this on the plane last night.”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes, he noted, had misted. She was visibly struggling to maintain her composure. Baffled, Eli frowned. “Where are we going?”

  “I’d like to get there first. Then I’ll explain.”

  Wariness crept through him. He had visions of meeting one of Liza’s former lovers for a bagel and coffee. He was fairly certain he’d have trouble controlling himself if she introduced him to some self-centered bastard who’d done a number on her self-esteem. “I don’t think—”

  She disarmed him when two tears spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t ask me,” she whispered.

  Frustrated, Eli wiped a hand over his face. “I’ve never—”

  She didn’t let him finish the thought. She interrupted him by racing across the kitchen to wrap her arms around his waist. “You’ve given me so much, Eli. Give me one more hour. Please.”

  His hesitation eroded. Enfolding her in his arms, he kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going to let you run away from me. Not after what happened last night.”

  Her arms tightened. “I know.”

  Tangling a hand in her hair, he tipped her head back to meet her gaze. “Do you?” he probed.

  A long second passed, then she averted her eyes as she stepped away from his embrace. “I’m going to take a shower. I can be ready in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll call downstairs and ask for the car.”

  “No.” She thrust her hands into the pockets of the robe. It made her look impossibly vulnerable to him. “If you don’t mind I’d rather take a cab.”

  Impersonal, he thought, with uncharacteristic insight. She was taking every opportunity to distance herself, from him, and from the world in general. With little or no imagination, he could picture her like this, as an eighteen-year-old kid scraping together enough money and energy to run home to Terrance, Georgia. He released a long breath. “All right,” he told her. “Whatever you want.”

  Liza fled the kitchen. Eli stood for long seconds watching the spot where she’d stood. He had the same feeling he experienced when a new theory began to form in his mind. Elements, as yet unexplained and disconnected whirled about in apparent chaos. Instinct told him that this morning’s venture would serve as the catalyst to bring him new insight into her world.

  Liza leaned back against the emerald tiled wall of Eli’s shower and took deep, calming breaths. The icy spray pricked her skin and stung her eyes. She tried, hard, not to succumb to the numbing fear that was clawing at her insides. She had shared this trip to Joshua’s gravesite with no one. Drew had never been willing to go. For a long time, she’d hated him for that. It had taken her years to realize that although Joshua’s death had thrust her mercilessly into adulthood, Drew had escaped the same fate. The bitterness she’d felt had slowly given way to pity as she’d grown to see Drew for what he was: an immature and irresponsible young man who’d run away at the first sign of adversity.

  Still, she’d never had the courage to take another person into her personal hell. Drew’s refusal to experience even a portion of her pain had given her an iron-resolve to harbor the agony as her own. No one, she’d persuaded herself, had the right to see the depth or the horror of what that time in her life had been like.

  But from the moment she’d met him, she’d sensed a connection with Eli. Maybe it was the palpable fear that sometimes edged through his normal reserve. His fierce love for his child, and his terror that she was slipping irrevocably away from him, had found a place deep in Liza’s heart she’d thought she’d buried with her baby.

  Drawing a deep breath, she shut off the water. The time had come to face those demons.

  She found Eli in the living room, clad in a pair of jeans and a denim shirt, sitting on the single chair he’d left behind when he’d had his furniture moved to Georgia. “Ready?” he asked quietly.

  Liza shuddered. “Not really.”

  Eli surged from the chair to cross the thick carpet in three strides. Reaching for her hand, he raised it to his lips. “You look petrified.”

  She managed a weak smile. “What tipped you off?”

  “You don’t have any color in your face.” He scrutinized her closely. “You’re scaring me.”

  Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she shook her head. “It’ll be all right. Just don’t let go.”

  Eli tucked her hand close to his side. “No chance.”

  * * *

  They made the trip to the cemetery in silence. Eli gave her a curious look when the cab delivered them to the main gate at the cemetery, but said nothing as Liza paid the driver to wait for them. She stopped at a vendor car near the entrance and purchased a small bouquet of flowers.

  The walk along the brick-paved paths took minutes, but Liza felt each step draining the energy from her. Eli’s grip on her fingers remained tight and reassuring. They rounded the final turn, and Liza led him through the grass to the small white stone that marked the place where she’d buried a large portion of her heart.

  She stooped to place the flowers on the impossibly small plot of land the charity-run cemetery had allotted for her son’s grave. Her hand felt cold where it rested in Eli’s. “This,” she said, her voice thready with tears, “is where my son, Joshua, is buried.” Unexpected tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t cried here in years.

  Eli sucked in an audible breath as he pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Liza. Oh, God.” She could hear the tremor in his voice, knew he was thinking how easily this could have been his tragedy. Not so long ago, he’d faced the reality that he could have been burying his child as well as his former wife. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I had no idea. God, I’m so sorry.”

  She clung to him—she, who had never clung to anyone in her life—drawing strength from his solid, dependable presence. “He lived three months after he was born,” she told him. “He died from pneumonia. I couldn’t afford to take him to the doctor. He needed antibiotics, and I couldn’t get them for him.”

  Eli’s arms tightened. Liza pushed her face against his denim shirt. “If I’d taken him to the hospital, they would have treated him—even without insurance. I could have—”

  “Don’t do that,” he said harshly. “You can’t second guess yourself like that. You’ll go crazy.”

  “I did,” she told him sadly. “For a while, after he died, I became unbalanced.”

  “You were so young.”

  “Joshua was born less than a year after Drew and I were married.”

  His hand slowly stroked her hair, long, soothing strokes that helped ease some of the chill in her blood. “You were just a kid, Liza.” His arm tightened around her shoulders. “You couldn’t possibly have been ready for this much responsibility.”

  “Then I shouldn’t have taken it on, should I?” she asked bitterly.
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br />   “When are you going to forgive yourself for this?”

  “Probably never,” she admitted. Tipping her head back, she met his gaze. “If it were Grace, could you have forgiven yourself?”

  He hesitated. “No,” he told her. “I don’t think so.”

  With a nod, she turned to look at Joshua’s grave marker. “That’s what I thought.”

  They stood in silence for long minutes, she lost in her pain, while he sought for a way to reach her. When he finally spoke, his voice had the same husky quality she’d come to associate with him whenever he talked about Grace. “I wish I’d known him. I wish I’d known you.”

  “I had no one but Drew. We hadn’t been here long, and we didn’t know many people. Drew couldn’t handle it.” Her hands tightened convulsively on his shirt. “He wouldn’t talk about it.” She swallowed. “He never came here.”

  The steady rhythm of his heart beat against her ear. “Have you ever brought another person?” he asked quietly.

  “No.”

  “Does Anna know?”

  “She knows. But I’ve never asked her to come with me.”

  “This is where you were that morning you came to New York with me to meet Grace.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “Liza—”

  She met his gaze again. “It’s okay, Eli. You don’t have to make this better. I’ve had five thousand dollars worth of therapy to help me cope.”

  Eli simply held her for several more minutes. She couldn’t remember, later, what he said to her in the somber stillness of that place—that place that had always seemed so desolate and barren. When they finally turned, by silent consent, to make their way back through the shaded paths, something had changed. For the first time, the burden she carried away from this place where her childhood had died a miserable death, seemed easier to bear. Eli unconsciously now shouldered part of it for her. She tipped her head against his shoulder as tears rolled uninhibited down her face.

  Finally, they had come. She’d waited for them for years. Each time she’d come here, she’d wondered when she’d finally be able to shed them. Now, they poured freely, dripping onto her shirt, soaking the fabric of his sleeve. He offered his handkerchief. When she accepted it, she admitted to herself that she’d given him her heart in return.