Moonlight Over Manhattan(67)
And then there was that moment when he’d leaned on her a little too heavily. She’d been convinced he was about to kiss her, but he hadn’t.
Why?
She zipped her case with so much vigor she almost broke it.
A man like Ethan Black didn’t hang around asking for permission. If he’d wanted to kiss her he would have done it.
She wished he had.
“Ugh.” Cross with herself, she hauled her suitcase to the door.
She’d come here to do a job, and she’d done that job.
Time to go home.
Time to get on with her real life. Not her dream life.
She was going to miss Madi. The dog was adorable. Bouncy, fun and endlessly affectionate.
But most of all she was going to miss Ethan.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“SO WHAT’S GOING ON?” Susan rested her hips against the desk as Ethan studied the scan in front of him.
“He’s had a bleed—” Ethan pointed at it with his pen but she shook her head.
“I meant with you.”
“Me?” Dragging his gaze from the scan, he turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“You seem different.”
Ethan leaned back in his chair. “Different? In what way am I different? I had the flu. I may have lost weight.”
“You poor, pathetic baby. No, it’s not that. You’re more relaxed. More like the old Ethan.”
“There was an old Ethan?” That was news to him.
“When I first met you, you were fun. Occasionally you even made me laugh. Lately you’ve gotten more serious.”
“You may not have noticed, but this is a serious job we do here. Life and death. That kind of thing.”
“All the more reason to enjoy the life part. So come on.” She nudged him so violently he wondered if he should be concerned about internal injuries.
“Come on, what?”
“Tell me the truth. It’s Harriet, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“The reason you’re suddenly mellow. She has softened all your rough edges. Living with her is good for you.”
“I’m not living with her.”
“Are you sure about that? Because last time I called by your apartment she had her things in the room next to yours. And she was mopping your fevered brow and looking like she gave a damn whether you lived or died.”
“She was dog sitting.”
“Right. Now you mention it, I remember seeing a dog.” Susan folded her arms. “Cute little black-and-white spaniel. But you seemed to be the one getting all the attention.”
“I was sick.”
“Yeah, well you won’t find me arguing with that.”
“She moved out a week ago.”
“That is a damn shame.” She leaned toward him. “Listen carefully, Dr. Hot, because I’m about to tell you something for free. Any woman who doesn’t want to kill a man when he’s sick is a keeper.”
“Maybe she did want to kill me. Can we maybe talk about something—”
“No. We’re talking about this. Why did she move out?”
“Because my sister came and collected Madi.”
“Madi?” Susan frowned. “Who the hell is Madi? Oh, you mean the dog?”
“Do not call her ‘the dog’ in front of Harriet,” Ethan muttered and Susan grinned.
“She really has whipped you into shape. So the dog left, and you let Harriet leave too.”
“I’ve told you—she was there as dog sitter. Without a dog to sit with, there wasn’t much of a reason for her to stay.”
“And you couldn’t think of a reason? What has happened to your brain?”
“My brain is good, thank you. She has her own home. Her own life.”
Susan shook her head. “Your lack of creativity is depressing. Have you called her since she moved out?”
“Why would I call her?” He’d intended to take her on a date, but then he’d gone down with the flu. And it wouldn’t have been a real date anyway. He’d been offering to do her a favor, that was all. Help her out, to make up for all the help she’d given him.
He ignored the small side of him that said he was lying to himself. That dinner with Harriet would have been a really good way to spend an evening.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t eaten dinner with her before. They’d eaten together most nights when he was home in time. Admittedly it had been casual, sitting at the kitchen island, chatting about what had happened during their day. No romantic lighting or dressing up. But he’d enjoyed it. In fact he’d enjoyed being with Harriet more than he could remember being with anyone in a long time.
There was something calming about her.
“To say thank you, to check how she’s doing, to ask her to dinner—I don’t know. You’re the man with the reputation with women, although clearly that reputation is not well deserved if you let her get away from you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Gorgeous girl, right there in your apartment, mopping your fevered brow, and you didn’t ravish her?”
“Ravish? What sort of word is ravish? It might have escaped your notice but I had trouble dragging myself to the bathroom for the first forty-eight hours. Ravishing anyone was beyond my capabilities.” But he’d thought about it.