Moonlight over Manhattan

by Sarah Morgan

  Harriet stepped forward, wondering how she was supposed to hold him upright.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and put her hands on his upper arms, trying to hold him steady, but he swayed backward, the weight of him pulling her with him and she had no choice but to wrap her arms round him and pull him toward her.

  She held her breath, not because she was afraid of catching something but because she suddenly couldn’t remember how to get air in and out of her lungs. She felt the pressure of his chest against hers, the width of his shoulders and the strength of his muscles.

  Her face was close to his. She tried to keep her gaze fixed on the wall behind her but she couldn’t help noticing the stubble that darkened his jaw and the thickness of his eyelashes. He was shockingly pale but that didn’t stop her from wanting to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.

  It occurred to her that this was probably the closest she was ever going to get to Ethan Black.

  Susan finished her examination and propped pillows behind him.

  “When you undressed him, did you see a rash?”

  “No. But I wasn’t looking.” She’d made a point of it. Her imagination had been active enough by itself, without adding reality into the mix.

  “I’m going to give you antibiotics.”

  Ethan scowled. “I don’t need—”

  “Did I ask for your opinion? You’re the patient, I’m the doctor. You’re going to take them.”

  Harriet waited for Ethan to argue again but he seemed to have given up the fight. He lay with his eyes closed, as if the effort required to sit up had drained the last of his energy.

  Susan opened her bag again and placed two small boxes by the bed. “Take two now.”

  “I have Tylenol,” Harriet said. “Presumably he should have those?”

  “Yes, and ibuprofen.” Susan dug in her back again. “It will bring the fever down. You can alternate them. Are you staying here tonight? He needs someone to check on him.”

  Ethan opened his eyes a crack. “Don’t need anyone.”

  “Yeah, I know that’s how you prefer to live your life. Not needing anyone.” Susan snapped her bag shut. “But right now, you need someone. So what you are trying to say is ‘thank you.’ Be nice to Harriet because if she walks out and I have to come back and sit with you, it won’t be fun.”

  Ethan started to protest but ended up coughing again, this time so hard that even Susan frowned.

  “I won’t walk out,” Harriet said. “I need to be here for Madi.” What she didn’t say was that she wouldn’t have walked out anyway. She tried telling herself it was because she wouldn’t leave anyone in the state Ethan was in, but even she didn’t believe that.

  “Hear that?” Susan stood up. “You’re one step lower than a dog in her priorities. When you’re better, you might want to think about that.”

  Ethan used language that made Harriet blink.

  Susan grinned. “The great thing about the emergency room is that it extends your vocabulary.” She walked to the door. “If you’re worried, call me. I’m only a few blocks away. This is my number.” She thrust a card into Harriet’s hand.

  “Thank you.” Harriet followed her downstairs. “So you think it’s the flu?”

  “Hopefully. I don’t think it’s anything that requires more than a few days in bed and some antibiotics. Don’t let him order you around.”

  “Would you like a drink or something before you leave?”

  “By drink, do you mean alcohol? Because I could get behind that idea.”

  Harriet removed a bottle of white from the fridge and lifted two glasses out of the cabinet.

  The least Ethan could do was provide them both with a glass of decent wine. “You know him well?”

  “Yes.” Susan took the glass from her. “He’s the best doctor I’ve worked with. Coolheaded. Smart. His brain works faster than anyone else’s. But those same qualities that make him the best doctor I’ve worked with, can make you want to strangle him outside work.”

  Harriet blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “He’s used to being in charge. Giving the commands. Sometimes he finds it hard to remember he has left work.”

  Harriet thought of the first encounter they’d had and laughed. “That sounds right.”

  “He’s compassionate too.” Susan had already half finished her wine. “A lot of doctors in his position get cynical, but Ethan is always the one who remembers there is a person under the problem.”

  Harriet had a sudden burning need to find out more about Ethan. “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

  Susan stared at her. “You made soup? It’s not from a tin or a carton?”

  “Fresh. From real vegetables.”

  “Hell yes.” Susan dropped her bag and walked to the kitchen, the wineglass still in her hand. “Do you have any idea how long it is since I had home-cooked food?”

  “If you’re anything like Ethan, I’m guessing it’s been a while.” She wondered why it was doctors found it so hard to cook for themselves.

  “It’s been too long.” Susan lifted the lid and peered into the pot. “That smells incredible. I’m going to buy a dog and have you come and live with me.”

  Harriet grinned. “I don’t do dog sitting.”

  “And yet you’re here.” Susan ladled soup into a bowl, and leaned forward to inhale. “Man, that smells good.”

  “I’m doing a favor for my client.”

  “And is your client the dog or the owner?” Susan put her bowl on the kitchen island and sat down.

  “Both, but it’s the dog’s needs that come first for me.” Harriet put a fresh sourdough loaf in front of Susan and sat down next to her. “Originally I was supposed to be walking Madi, but she was very unsettled and almost wrecked the place so Ethan asked me to base myself here.” She told Susan everything.

  “So you’ve been living here all week.” Susan finished the soup, eating as if she were starved. “That explains a lot.”

  “It does?” Harriet took Susan’s bowl and filled it up again. The loaf of bread she’d baked that afternoon was already almost gone. Maybe she should set up a stall near the emergency room and nourish underfed doctors.

  “Ignore me.” Susan all but snatched the soup out of her hands. “So when is Debra back?”

  “Next week.” And then she’d be moving out and Harriet would never see Ethan again. It was something she found oddly depressing. “You eat quickly.”

  “It’s one of the side effects of being a doctor. You never know when your meal will be interrupted so you learn to eat quickly.” Susan finished the second bowl of soup and sat back. “That was amazing. Anytime you want to invite me to dinner, consider it a yes from me. I’ll call the hospital and tell them Ethan won’t be in over the weekend. Hopefully by Monday he’ll be well enough to call them himself with an update. You’re sure you’re going to be okay here?”

  “Yes. I feel better now someone qualified has taken a look at him. I was worried.”

  “He’s going to be fine. Don’t let him take advantage of you.”

  Susan left half an hour later, leaving Harriet alone in the apartment with Ethan.

  Madi was asleep.

  Her own room beckoned, the bed waiting for her.

  Instead, she walked into Ethan’s room.

  His eyes were closed, but she could hear the faint rasp of his breathing.

  She touched his forehead lightly and discovered he was still burning up.

  She walked into his bathroom and dampened a washcloth. The bathroom was sleek and masculine, dark gray tiles broken up by an entire wall that was mirrored.

  Everything was neatly ordered. Nothing strewn about the place, as it had been in her own bathroom when Fliss was living with her.

  She placed the cloth on his forehead but this time he didn’t stir.

  Telling herself that the meds would take time to work, she curled up in the chair near his bed.

  If he was going to die, it wasn’t going to be on her watch.<
br />
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ETHAN WOKE COUGHING several times in the night and each time Harriet helped him to sit up, forced him to drink fluids and did what she could to bring down the fever. She’d never seen anyone so ill. Despite Susan’s reassurances, she didn’t like leaving him on his own for long.

  She tried sleeping on top of her bed with her door open so that she’d hear him if he called for her, but then she found she was listening out for him all the time and wondering if he was still breathing, so she gave up on that and made herself comfortable in the deep armchair in the corner of his room.

  It was almost as comfortable as her bed, and she slept in fitful bouts, her mind hovering between wakefulness and sleep, conscious of Ethan within arm’s reach. It felt strange, this intimacy between two people who barely knew each other.

  It was a long night.

  Every time he coughed she fetched him drinks and tried to help him sit up. When he slept, she tried to sleep.

  Morning came, the weak winter sun spilling diffuse light through the window.

  Ethan didn’t stir and Harriet leaned closer to check he was breathing before going downstairs to make breakfast.

  After a night of almost no sleep, her head throbbed and she felt as if she’d been hit over the head with a hammer.

  Madi was waiting for her, tail wagging.

  Deciding that she had no choice but to leave Ethan while she took the dog for a walk, she scribbled a note and left it by his bedside along with his phone.

  The moment she stepped outside the apartment the cold hit her, driving away the smothering fog of sleep.

  She wrapped her scarf more tightly round her neck and huddled deeper into her coat.

  The city was oddly silent, all sound muffled by a fresh layer of snow.

  Worried about Ethan, she kept the walk as short as she felt was fair on Madi and when she returned to the apartment Ethan still hadn’t moved.

  Harriet touched his forehead and decided he felt a little cooler.

  That had to be a good thing, surely? As was the fact that he was finally sleeping.

  The dark shadow on his jaw that had been no more than whisker grain the day before was more pronounced now, accentuating the pallor of his skin.

  Halfway through the afternoon she was in the kitchen when she heard a crash from the bedroom.

  She took the stairs two at a time and found Ethan clutching the end of the bed, eyeing the bathroom as if he were an explorer contemplating a long and dangerous sea voyage.

  She took his arm and he leaned on her heavily, his legs almost buckling as he reached the bathroom door.

  “I need to take a shower.”

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea? You don’t seem exactly steady on your feet. If you do, don’t lock the door. I’ll wait right here.”

  His blue gaze connected with hers. “You could join me. I could put my healing hands on you.”

  So he had heard.

  She decided to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. He’d had a fever when he’d overheard that conversation, hadn’t he? It was amazing how fever could blur the brain.

  “Don’t make offers you’re not capable of seeing through. And right now you’re the one who needs healing. I could knock you over with a touch of my finger.”

  “I won’t always be sick, Harriet. Then you and I are going to talk.” He started to cough and she rolled her eyes.

  “But right now you are sick, so let’s focus on that.” And once he was better, she’d be out of here.

  “You’re a beautiful woman.”

  Her heart almost stopped. “I—what did you say?”

  “I said you’re beautiful.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there.

  Her skin tingled. She felt as if she’d been electrocuted. “I’ve been up all night and I haven’t even brushed my hair.”

  His mouth curved slightly. “That must be it. You look as if you just emerged from a wild night of sin.”

  She wanted to say that she wouldn’t know sin if she fell over it, but instead she pushed him toward the bathroom. “You’re delirious. That happens with a fever. Get in the shower, Ethan, and I suggest you turn it to cold.”

  She made sure he was steady on his feet—because if he fell and banged his head, that would be something else she would have to fix—and backed out of the room.

  She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe.

  Beautiful? Last time she’d checked, she’d looked like a ghost. He had to be hallucinating.

  During her average working day she didn’t pay much attention to her appearance. She worked with dogs. Her objective was to find practical clothing that was warm in winter, and cool in summer. Sensible shoes more suitable for pounding the paths of Central Park than walking a red carpet.

  Pulling herself together, she walked back into his bedroom and took advantage of the fact he wasn’t there to change the bedding. Then she busied herself in her own room, made a couple of calls to clients, answered a couple of calls from dog walkers and handled a few schedule changes. And all the time she kept listening for the moment the shower was turned off. She tried not to think about the water sliding over his naked body. Tried not to think about those wide shoulders, those flat abs, his sense of humor, all that heart-melting charm under that rough exterior—

  Stop it, Harriet!

  She hoped he didn’t pass out because she didn’t want to be the one to walk into that shower and drag his body out.

  She gave him ten minutes and walked back into his room.

  He’d pulled on a loose black tee and a pair of trackpants. His hair stood in shiny spikes, droplets of water still clinging to his neck. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, as if trying to make up his mind if he had what it took to get back to the bed. If she were to judge on appearances she would have said he’d used every last scrap of energy.

  He watched as she piled up the pillows. “Thank you for looking after me.”

  “I’m doing it for Madi.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The dog cares about my well-being?”

  “If you die, she will be unsettled again. She needs stability.”

  “It’s good to have a reason to cling to life.” His dry tone told her he had to be feeling better.

  She sent mental thanks to Susan. “Have you taken your meds?”

  “I have.” He walked carefully to the bed. Before that remark about her being beautiful she would have helped him, but now she decided it was safer to keep her distance. She no longer knew the rules of this relationship.

  She shook her head. “You look pitiful. Do you want to sleep some more? Watch TV?”

  “I don’t have TV in the bedroom.” He collapsed onto the freshly made bed. “The bedroom is for two things only. Sleep and—”

  “Okay, I get it.” She interrupted him quickly and reached for the throw. She didn’t want to hear about the things that had happened in that huge bed of his. On balance she’d preferred it when he had less to say for himself.

  “For a woman of almost thirty—”

  “How do you know my age?” She pulled the throw over him.

  “I treated you in the ER. I was going to say that for a woman of almost thirty, you’re shy about sex. Tell me about your previous boyfriends.”

  She gave a start. “Are you delirious?”

  “No, but I feel like crap and I want distraction.”

  “Then you don’t want to talk about my boyfriends because there’s not a lot of distraction there.”

  “There haven’t been many?”

  “I never really saw the point of dating for the sake of it.”

  “So I was right.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re not the type for casual sex.”

  Up until she’d met him, she would have agreed but right now she wasn’t sure.

  She seemed to think about nothing but sex when she was with him. Serious, casual, right now she would have taken whateve
r was on offer.

  She was agonizingly aware of him watching her as she moved around the room.

  “I suppose I’m more of a relationship sort of person.”

  “I guessed that about you. Tell me about the last guy you had sex with.”

  “Excuse me?” Her cheeks flamed. She never talked about sex with anyone. Not even her sister. Why would he ask her that question? And why now, with the sun spotlighting her every reaction?

  “I’m trying to even the score. You’ve undressed me and seen me almost naked. That gives me certain rights.”

  “It gives you no rights.”

  “Well I’m taking them anyway. Tell me about the last guy you dated.”

  She picked up the clothes he’d dropped on the floor, not because she particularly felt the need to tidy, but because it made it easier to hide her face. “Charlton Morris.”

  “Where did you meet him, how long did it last and why did you break up?” He started coughing again and this time she looked at him without sympathy.

  “That’s your punishment for asking so many questions, none of which are your business.”

  “I was supposed to be taking you on a training date. Consider this research.”

  “I don’t need a training date. I don’t plan on dating a man who makes me feel so uncomfortable I have to be coached to get through the evening. I want someone I’m comfortable with. How hard is that?” She threw his clothes into the laundry hamper as if they were personally responsible for her deficiencies in that area.

  “Hard. It’s not easy to meet people, least of all someone you feel comfortable with.” He reached for his water and it was so obviously a struggle that she took pity and handed it to him.

  “Sit up. And you probably need another dose of antibiotics. I like Susan, by the way. You should marry her. She’d be good for you.”

  He choked on the water. “I’m not marrying anyone ever again, least of all Susan.”

  “Why ‘least of all’? She came round here after her shift to check on you. She cares about you.”

  “And I care about her. But all we have is friendship. If it turned to anything more we would kill each other in a day.”