Moonlight over Manhattan Page 14

  To intensify the discomfort of the moment the elevator stopped on the next floor and a woman stepped in holding hands with a man. They were laughing together, clearly enjoying a shared joke. Harriet felt a stab of envy. You only had to look at them, the eye contact, the pleasure they took in each other’s company, to know they hadn’t “settled.”

  To make room for them Harriet was forced to step back and in doing so she tripped over Madi’s leash, which had somehow wound itself round her ankles.

  She fell against Ethan with a thud and a gasp of apology.

  His arms came up and he steadied her, his hands closing around her upper arms, holding her firm until she regained her balance and untangled her legs from the offending leash.

  Keeping her hand on Ethan’s broad chest for balance, she bent to free herself and saw Madi looking at her.

  She could have sworn the dog had done it on purpose.

  Madi the matchmaker.

  It was only moments until she was back on her feet, but in those few moments she learned two things. Firstly, that Ethan’s strength wasn’t only restricted to his character. And secondly, that she was capable of all manner of feelings she hadn’t previously encountered. Apparently her heart was capable of beating harder and faster than she’d ever thought possible, and her stomach was able to perform a strange, fluttery maneuver that she couldn’t begin to describe let alone put a name to.

  She wondered what Ethan was thinking.

  Probably that she was clumsy, and that for an expert who supposedly did this every day, she was surprisingly slow at dodging the potential obstacle of a dog’s leash.

  Or maybe he wasn’t thinking of her at all.

  He was simply taking his sister’s dog for a walk.

  She was the one who was unpicking each element of the situation and analyzing it until her brain hurt.

  She was the one with the problem.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ETHAN FOLLOWED HARRIET out into the street, for once glad of the cold air.

  The elevator had felt stifling, or maybe the heat had come from inside him. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his height had given him a perfect view of Harriet’s hair. It spilled over her shoulders in a subtle blend of pale gold and buttermilk, reminding him of long, lazy summers growing up when his priority had been to do nothing.

  Right now he would have been happy to do nothing with Harriet.

  The thought startled him. Not just the doing nothing part, which would in itself have been enough to make those who knew him raise an eyebrow, but that she would have been his choice of companion.

  She chose that moment to look at him. “What? Why the frown?”

  “It’s colder than I thought it would be.” He said the first thing that came into his head, although in fact it was the second thing. Because she’d been the first thing. He’d been thinking about how her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and how shiny her hair was under the lights of the elevator. He’d been thinking about how her eyes had blazed when she’d confronted him, how patient she was with Madi, and how the food she’d made had been the best thing he’d ever eaten. “Really cold.”

  He turned up the collar of his coat in support of his statement about the cold. And it was cold. There was no way he’d be caught in a lie.

  “Wasn’t it cold a few hours ago?”

  She obviously thought his behavior was strange.

  He thought it was strange too.

  He knew she was still feeling awkward around him.

  He knew that was entirely his fault.

  He also knew that the edge of awareness he felt when he was with her was something he was going to keep to himself. He and Alison had been similar in many ways, which was why when they drifted in and out of their ill-fated marriage, neither of them had been hurt. The fact that their separation hadn’t left so much as a bruise on either of them showed the depth of feeling involved.

  Harriet wasn’t like that. He suspected she was the type of woman who bruised easily, which meant he needed to keep well away from her.

  They walked along the snowy streets, their breaths clouding the freezing air. This part of Manhattan had a small, intimate feel. Snow fell like frozen confetti, muffling street noise and carpeting the cobbled streets. In this part of the street the trees reached across and touched each other, street lamps bathing the snow with an ethereal glow.

  She walked with purpose and confidence, jeans tucked into her snow boots. He decided he preferred her like this to all dressed up in stilettos. Not because he particularly cared what she wore, but because it was obvious she cared. She seemed comfortable. A thousand times more comfortable than that night he’d first met her.

  “It looks like a Christmas card.” She paused under the light from the street lamp and took a photograph, then turned the camera toward Madi and took a photo of the dog. “I’ll send that to Debra.”

  “You’re sending her a photo of her dog?”

  “Of course.” She fiddled with her phone, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated. “All our clients love to see what their dogs are doing when they’re away, and a photo is so much stronger than words.”

  “That photo will tell her I’m not taking good care of her dog.”

  She pushed her phone back into her pocket and looked up. “Not true. It will tell her you’re taking excellent care of her dog.”

  “The fact that you’re involved tells her I couldn’t cope.”

  “The fact that I’m involved tells her you cared enough about Madi’s welfare to call me. She’ll be impressed.”

  Ethan wasn’t convinced. He thought his sister was more likely to roll her eyes and make some comment about the fact that he was in charge of people’s lives, and yet couldn’t take care of one little dog.

  He was also aware that once Debra discovered Harriet was staying in his apartment, he would be a target for more of her matchmaking efforts. His sister might not be as slick as a dating app, he thought, but she was a lot harder to delete.

  Aware that he could no longer feel his fingers, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “Are you always this positive?”

  “Is it being positive? I see it as the truth.” She paused. “In the ER your job is to determine what a patient needs, is that right? So if a patient has a brain injury you don’t handle it yourself, you call the expert in that specialty.”

  “That’s right.”

  “This is no different.” She waited as Madi sniffed the snow. “You called an expert. Not that I’m comparing myself to a neurosurgeon, you understand. I’m guessing you must see some pretty gross things.”

  “Gross is all a matter of interpretation.” He watched as she cleaned up after Madi. “What you’re doing now is pretty gross.”

  “It’s part of responsible dog ownership. Have you ever had anything come into the ER that you couldn’t deal with?”

  “It’s my job to deal with it, just as it’s your job to deal with all dogs, even one you find challenging.”

  “It’s hardly the same thing. If it’s a little child, don’t you get emotional?”

  “Children are generally dealt with by the pediatric trauma unit. But whoever the patient, I try and detach myself emotionally because I need to be able to think clearly. Child or adult, their loved ones are relying on me to make the best decisions. I can’t do that if I’m thinking about the emotional impact on the family. It doesn’t help anyone.”

  “That sounds great in theory, but is it really that easy to do in practice?”

  “Not at first. It’s a skill I learned over time. Or maybe it’s not a skill. Maybe it’s a failing. Or maybe I just got a little too good at disconnecting and not feeling.”

  “So you’re a block of ice inside?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He paused. “It’s not that you don’t feel emotion, more that you learn to suppress it and then process it in your own way, in your own time.” But he’d discovered that if you suppressed emotion enough, it seemed to disappear altogethe
r.

  “What’s your way?”

  “I practice karate. I’m a black belt.” He saw her eyes widen.

  “So you beat people up and send them to the emergency room you just left?”

  “No. If I injure anyone, I try and fix them right away.”

  They strolled along the snowy streets, avoiding the noise and bustle of the west highway.

  As the cold nipped bare flesh, he shivered. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “No. I spend most of my working day outdoors. I dress for the weather. You don’t want to know how many layers I’m wearing.” She tipped her face up to the sky. “It’s snowing again.”

  “You say that as if it’s something to be delighted about instead of an inconvenience that will no doubt bring misery to many.” He saw snow and thought about the accidents it would cause, and the fact that the emergency room would be full to the brim.

  “I know it can be a nuisance, but I still think there’s something magical about snow, don’t you?” She held out her hands and caught a snowflake, examining it the way another woman might a diamond.

  Ethan was charmed, which came as a shock. These days he was rarely, if ever, charmed.

  Cynical, tired and disillusioned? All the time.

  Charmed? Never.

  “Magical?”

  “Just seeing snow lifts the spirits.”

  “I like snow when I’m skiing. In New York City, snow means the ER will be extra busy.”

  “I’m surprised you ski, knowing everything you know about injuries.” She shrugged. “I guess you can fix yourself if you break something.”

  He laughed. “If only it were that easy. Fortunately, I don’t plan on breaking anything.”

  “You ski often?”

  “I’m taking a vacation the week before Christmas. My godmother is getting married and my whole family is attending the wedding, always assuming Karen is cleared to fly by then.”

  “Your godmother?”

  “Elizabeth O’Neil. She’s one of my mother’s closest friends. They met while they were both doing a cookery course in Paris. They stayed friends. We used to go and stay with them every year when we were growing up. Twice, some years. Summer and winter. The family owns a resort by a lake in Vermont.”

  “Sounds dreamy.”

  “It is, although keeping it going hasn’t always been easy for them. It’s been in the family for three generations but it had started to decline. Michael, Elizabeth’s first husband, wasn’t much of a businessman from what I can gather. He died a few years ago, and Jackson, the oldest son, took it over. He has built it up into a destination resort. It’s very much a family concern and always has been. His brother Tyler helps now too, but Sean, the third brother, is an orthopedic surgeon so he isn’t directly involved.”

  “I saw the photo of you on a ski slope. I thought maybe they were your brothers.”

  “Growing up, we were as close as brothers. Now we see each other a few times a year. Jackson comes up to Manhattan for business, I go there for skiing—” he shrugged “—a few summers ago we walked part of the Appalachian Trail together.”

  “And now Elizabeth is getting married again? How old is she?”

  “Sixties? I’m not good at guessing ages. You’ve already discovered how tactless I can be, so don’t push me on that one.”

  “I think it’s wonderful that she’s fallen in love again. So you’re all going to the wedding?”

  He’d talked to her about the business and yet the subject that interested her most was the fact that Elizabeth was getting married again.

  “We usually go at this time of year anyway. That’s probably why Elizabeth fixed this date. It’s before Christmas, so not too crazy, but there should be good skiing. We’ve booked out a few cabins.”

  “Cabins?”

  “The accommodation at Snow Crystal is mostly in luxury log cabins around the lake.”

  “Sounds perfect. A winter wedding in a snowy forest. That would be my dream.”

  The fact that she dreamed of weddings should have been enough to send him skidding back to his apartment but for some reason he was still standing here.

  “Do you ski?”

  “Never intentionally.” She grinned. “Only when I lose my balance when walking. Which happens pretty often at this time of year.” They reached the curve of Morton Street and turned around, returning the way they’d come. “So being a trauma doctor doesn’t put you off adventurous sports?”

  “No, although some things are off-limits.”

  “Such as?”

  “I hate motorcycles.”

  “Did you always want to be a doctor?”

  “Yes.” They arrived back at his building and he held the door for her. “My father and grandfather are both doctors. Family practice in Connecticut.”

  “You didn’t want to join them? Follow in the family footsteps?”

  “I wanted something faster paced.”

  “Was your father angry with you for not wanting to join him?”

  “Angry?” The question surprised him. “Why would he be angry?”

  “Oh, because—” She gave a little shake of her head. “I thought maybe he wanted you to join him, and that you doing something different might have made him angry.”

  “He wanted me to do whatever it was that interested me. In my case that was trauma.” He stood aside to let her walk first into the elevator. “Did you always want to own your own business?”

  “No. In fact it would have been the last thing on my mind.” She unwound her scarf from her neck. “I’m not that good with people and I’m not good with accounts.”

  “My sister says the Bark Rangers virtually own the whole of the East Side of Manhattan.”

  “We’re doing well. Most of that is down to my sister, Fliss. She’s the business brain.”

  He watched as she soothed Madi.

  The dog had been so well behaved the whole time they’d been out he hardly recognized her as the same animal he’d met when he’d walked through the door that first day.

  “Does Fliss have your sophisticated skills as an animal tamer?”

  “Animal tamer?” She straightened. “Aren’t you slightly exaggerating my skills?”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “I thought ‘animal tamer’ was reserved for someone who works in a circus, or at least with dangerous animals.”

  “My apartment looked like a circus when you arrived the other day and as for what’s dangerous—it’s all about perspective. You turned Madi from a marauding mass of teeth and fur into a well-behaved animal. She’s looking at you for praise and attention all the time. She’s walking close to your leg and waiting for you to give her instructions. If that isn’t animal taming I don’t know what is.”

  “She’s a good girl.”

  He noticed that the moment they arrived in his apartment, she removed Madi’s coat. The dog’s comfort was always her priority.

  “You love your job.”

  “I adore it. Don’t you love yours?”

  Did he love his? Ethan frowned. It was a question he hadn’t asked himself in a long time. “Love is probably the wrong word. It’s satisfying. Challenging. So now your sister is working from the Hamptons? You weren’t tempted to join her?”

  “No. I love Manhattan. I love the Hamptons too, but I wouldn’t want to live there. I’ve worked with some of my clients for eight years. They feel like family. And this place feels like home.” She took Madi to her crate and the dog settled down without argument.

  “What about your real family? Are your parents still alive?”

  She stroked Madi’s head. “They’re divorced. My mom is traveling right now so I don’t see much of her.”

  “And your father?” The moment he asked the question he knew it was the wrong one.

  Her smile faded like a light bulb on a dimmer switch. “I don’t see him, either. Good night, Ethan.” She stood up and walked toward the stairs without looking back, leaving him with the uncomfor
table knowledge that he’d just asked the wrong question.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HARRIET TOOK A shower and slid into bed, even though she knew there was no chance of sleeping. Her mind was churning like the inside of a washing machine.

  He’d asked her a question, that was all. Not even a particularly personal question.

  And what had she done? Had she shifted the conversation to more comfortable territory? No. She’d bolted like Madi after a stick in the park.

  His question might not have been personal, but she’d taken it personally. She’d let it release a flock of insecurities.

  Infuriated and stressed, she reached for the book she’d tucked under her pillow.

  Why was she so bad at conversation?

  And why did she find it so awkward to talk about her parents?

  Plenty of people had parents who were divorced. They’re divorced. That was all she needed to say. She didn’t need to deliver any more details. Ethan hadn’t wanted her life history, just a normal to and fro exchange of words.

  But, no. She’d had to overreact.

  Still clutching the book, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

  It had been more than a decade since she’d left home.

  The mere mention of her father shouldn’t send her pulse rate thumping and she certainly shouldn’t find it awkward to talk about it.

  Why should it bother her that she didn’t see him? Why did she find that detail embarrassing?

  But she knew the answer to that. Because she believed, deep in her heart, that family was something worth fighting for. That no circumstances, however dark, should succeed in tearing a family apart. And yet theirs had been torn apart and even the knowledge that it had been her father who had done the tearing didn’t comfort her. If anything it made it worse, as if his desire for no contact somehow reflected on her and made her less of a person.

  The truth was, her father didn’t like her and she had spent her lifetime trying to adjust to that reality. But how did you adjust to something that felt so wrong? It wasn’t right for a parent not to love a child. In the universe she inhabited in her head, parents loved their children unconditionally. They didn’t find them irritating and seek every reason not to spend time with them.