Moonlight Over Manhattan(55)

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” He swayed slightly, as if it was taking all his effort to stay standing up. “Let’s get inside.”

“If you’re tired, we could always get takeout.” And part of her thought that might be easier.

“Am I that intimidating? We’ve been eating together and talking all week. How is this different?”

Because they were going out. Just the two of them. It was intentional, instead of incidental.

And because it wasn’t a date.

How could she explain that this whole thing felt even more awkward than usual? She fully expected to stammer her way through the evening. But it seemed simpler to say yes and get it over with. That was one advantage of moving out on Monday. However embarrassing tonight was, she’d never have to see him again.

The date was today’s Challenge Harriet.

Back in the apartment she tended to Madi first, and then went to shower.

In the privacy of her bathroom, she changed her sweater three times. Black? No. White? Definitely no. She’d spill something down her front. In the end she opted for a pale cashmere sweater in a soft shade of heather that had been an early Christmas gift from a client who owned a boutique. She put her hair up and decided it looked as if she was trying too hard so took it down again. She wasn’t really a hair up type of person.

And it didn’t really matter what she wore, did it? This wasn’t a proper date. It was dating practice. Not the same thing.

Taking deep breaths, she walked out of the bedroom downstairs.

Madi was chewing her toy happily but there was no sign of Ethan.

Harriet selected one of his books from the shelf and sat down with it but she couldn’t settle. She felt as if she was in the doctor’s surgery waiting for a consultation she didn’t want to have.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

There were no sounds from upstairs.

After thirty minutes she put the book down. If he’d changed his mind he would have said so, wouldn’t he?

Wishing she had more experience in non-dating etiquette, she went upstairs and paused outside the door.

Hearing nothing, she tapped lightly. “Ethan?”

There was no reply and she opened the door a crack and saw him sprawled across the bed, still fully clothed. He hadn’t even removed his coat.

His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were closed.

She felt a stab of concern. Was he that exhausted?

Thinking back, she realized he hadn’t looked well earlier. She’d assumed he was just tired, but now she was wondering if it was something more. Maybe he was coming down with something.

Leaving him to sleep, she backed out of the room quietly and walked back downstairs.

The snow was coming down heavily and she thought that maybe it was a good thing that they hadn’t gone out to dinner. Generally she loved the snow, but tonight the skies were clogged with it and visibility was blurred to almost nothing.

After all the stress and the dressing and undressing, she was surprised to discover that she was disappointed not to be going out.

She curled up on the sofa and read for an hour, lost in her book, Madi asleep at her feet.

It was hunger that drove her to her feet again. Hunger and an undercurrent of stress and tension, the cause of which she couldn’t quite identify.

She walked to the kitchen and chopped vegetables, thinking that soup would be perfect when Ethan finally woke up hungry.

Her grandmother had taught her to cook and it had associations of comfort for Harriet. Each time she stood at the stove, she remembered standing there with her grandmother, side by side, their arms occasionally touching. A pinch of this and a touch of that. Stir, taste, stir some more. Her grandmother had cooked by instinct but it had been an excellent instinct and she’d passed that skill on to Harriet. She’d taught her how to choose the best vegetables, how to choose the freshest fish, how a stem of asparagus should snap just so.

The summers she’d spent at her grandmother’s house had been the only time Harriet had eaten properly. Mealtimes had been relaxed and fun, a celebration of the food they’d lovingly prepared together.

She took her time, and an hour later had a beautifully rich and smooth soup, but there was still no sign of Ethan. She’d eaten a bowl of soup and was halfway through the book. The apartment was eerily silent. The snow swirling beyond the windows gave the impression that they were marooned.

Marooned with Ethan Black.

Even thinking about it did strange things to her breathing, which made no sense at all. Especially given that he was currently unconscious.

She glanced at Madi. “Do you think he’s okay?” The dog thumped her tail.

Harriet went to check on him again and saw that he hadn’t moved.

That wasn’t normal, surely?

Concerned, she stepped into the room and tentatively put her fingers on his forehead.

He was burning hot.

She snatched her hand away. “You have a fever!” Horrified, she stood for a moment, frozen by indecision, and then snapped into action. Her insecurities evaporated. She may not know much about seduction, but she knew about this. “You’re sick. I have to get that coat off you. Ethan? Ethan.” She gave his shoulder a gentle shake and he opened his eyes as if he had lead attached to the lids. They glittered with fever and his gaze was bleary and unfocused.

Not good.

“I have to get you out of this coat. You’re burning up. Is this why you came home early from work? Why didn’t you say something?”