HARRIET PUT THE tray down on the desk in the bedroom, but didn’t touch it.
She was too upset and angry to eat.
Upset with Ethan, and angry with herself because he’d been scarily close to the truth.
When she’d planned and cooked the meal, she had assumed he’d be joining her. Not because she had designs on him romantically, but because it seemed like the civilized thing to do. She’d pictured herself serving the meal, and imagined his enjoyment at finally tasting real food instead of endless takeout meals and fast food. She’d tried to make it special. She’d even had a quick look in the kitchen cabinets to see if she could find candles for the table.
Candles?
With a groan, Harriet leaned her head against the window.
How could she have been so incredibly stupid?
This was what happened when you moved outside your comfort zone, outside the circle of people who knew you well.
Creating a home wherever she went was something she did automatically. No matter where she was, she always wanted the atmosphere to be as comforting and soothing as possible. Her siblings teased her for it. They removed cushions before they sat on the sofa, ignored napkins she placed on the table.
Before Molly had arrived on the scene, when she and Fliss had still been sharing the apartment, Daniel had often dropped in for breakfast. Sundays had become her favorite day. She’d made homemade granola and stacks of fresh pancakes, and both her brother and sister had eaten so much they could barely drag themselves to the sofa.
She particularly wanted mealtimes to be relaxing, probably because growing up they had been anything but. Every meal had been fraught with tension, and for years after she’d left home Harriet had worked hard to even want to sit at a table to eat. The solution she’d found had been to make it as different from her childhood experience as possible. She enjoyed cooking, but there was so much more to her enjoyment than simply a fascination with recipes and food.
For her, cooking and eating was symbolic of something bigger. Cooking was her way of expressing love. A way of creating a warm, comforting space, and you didn’t need a degree in psychology to know that the origins of her need for that were to be found in her childhood.
There had been nothing warm or comforting about her home growing up. Nothing warm or comforting about mealtimes. Sitting round the table together had been something to be endured. The atmosphere had been strained, the food nothing more than punctuation in an hour of rising stress levels.
Harriet had eaten little. As a child her weight had been on the low side of normal, not because she had food issues, but simply because she couldn’t seem to push it past the lump of tension wedged in her throat and chest. She’d willed mealtimes to be over as fast as possible so she could escape back to her room. Sometimes she’d ended up under the table, hiding while the battle raged above her head.
Now, she wanted fine dining and good conversation. Instead of shouting, she wanted to hear the clink of glass and the hum of laughter. She wanted everyone relaxed and focused on the food, instead of glancing at the time and wondering how quickly they could escape.
In her later teenage years she’d used candles as a method of calming herself, and it had been easy enough to add those to a meal table.
Her brother Daniel had teased her for creating a romantic atmosphere, and she’d admitted that it had nothing at all to do with romance and everything to do with her own rituals for keeping calm in a situation she’d always found stressful.
What if she’d found candles and matches? In all probability she would have used them, and Ethan would have come home to fine dining and candlelight. She would have had a big problem explaining her way out of that one.
She could have told him it was the way she liked to live her life now. When she’d moved into an apartment with her sister, she’d immediately set about creating a space that felt safe and cozy. Plants, cushions, rugs—she was the one who had turned their place into a home, and although Fliss teased her and wouldn’t have watered a plant if her life depended on it, Harriet knew she’d enjoyed living there too.
Up until a few months ago, she’d shared almost every aspect of her life with her twin.
And she was missing that. Because a home was so much more than four walls, some pretty throw cushions and a few healthy plants, wasn’t it? A home was about the people. Atmosphere.
And right now her home was depressingly silent. She missed the feeling of coming home to someone.
Had that been part of the reason she’d accepted Ethan’s invitation to stay at his place? Had she been avoiding her own? Or had she secretly hoped that something might develop between them?
Pathetic, she muttered, and sat down in the chair by the window to eat her meal. Alone.
This was what Challenge Harriet was all about. If she had a problem with the way she was living her life, then she needed to fix it. And wanting things to go back to the way they were wasn’t a fix.
If she missed people then the answer was to fill her home with more people. It shouldn’t matter that Fliss wasn’t living with her anymore. She should simply make some calls and have people over. Maybe she should call Molly and suggest meeting for brunch. Or her friend Matilda. Except that Matilda was spending most of her time in the Hamptons with her new baby.
She needed to make new friends. Be self-sufficient and adventurous.
Maybe she ought to book a week away somewhere. She could go hiking. Get some fresh air. Snatch some time away from the city. A change of scene would be good.
She was pondering that when there was a tap on the door.
She put her spoon down, knowing this wasn’t a conversation she was going to be able to avoid.
Ethan opened the door but didn’t walk into the room. “If I step inside this room are you going to throw food at my head?”
“I don’t know. It depends on what you say when you step in here.”
“Would an apology work?” His smile was crooked. “I seem to spend my life apologizing to you. Believe it or not, I’m not usually this bad with people.”
“So I bring out the worst in you?” She wasn’t going to be charmed by that smile. Absolutely not.
“It’s not you, so much as the circumstances.” Ethan glanced down as Madi, who pushed her nose against his leg. “My life has changed quite a bit over the past couple of days. I think I’m still getting over the shock.” He crouched down to stroke Madi’s head. “There, Madi. Lovely Madi.”
“That’s not going to work this time.” But at least he was trying. She relented. “It’s not easy having an animal around when you’re not used to it.”
“It’s not just Madi. I’ve lived on my own for a long time. I’m used to being in my own space and doing what I want to do when I want to do it.”
He made living alone sound like the ultimate indulgence.
Harriet was in that position too, and so far she hated it.
“You like living on your own?”
He glanced at her. “Yes. It’s easy. I don’t have to think about anyone but myself. I’d be the first to admit I’m not good at compromising. Nor am I used to walking through the door to the delicious smells of home cooking. I made assumptions that were totally wrong.”
His apology disarmed her as much as his honesty. She thought about the dates she’d been on, and the lies people had told to make themselves look better. She didn’t understand how relationships were ever supposed to work if people weren’t honest about who they were. What was the point of pretending to be interested in reading if you never picked up a book? Why lie about what work you did, or your income or your age? If you had to pretend to be someone different, how was that ever going to work?
With that in mind, she was honest too.
“You weren’t wrong. I did assume you would want to eat too. And it was stupid of me.”
“Not stupid at all. A reasonable assumption that I’d be hungry, and a kind gesture to cook. You were thoughtful. And kind. And I was a jerk.” He stared at the food on the tray. “What is it?”
“It’s boeuf bourguignon. A French dish of beef marinated in wine and herbs.”
“It smells good.”
Discovering a wicked streak she hadn’t even known she had, Harriet took another mouthful and savored it. “It tastes good. Deliciously warming after being out in the cold.”
He laughed. “You’re a cruel woman.”
“I intended to share it with you. You made it clear I’d overstepped the mark. How does that make me cruel?”
“You want me to apologize again? Grovel?”
Harriet took another mouthful and pondered. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I think I do.”
“Please, Harriet, may I help myself to a bowl of your beef whatever-it’s-called?”
She finished her bowl. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t have enough?”
“I have more than enough. But feeding you casserole might be dangerous.” She put her bowl on the tray and stood up. “I’m a seriously good cook. If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, then you’d fall in love with me and then we’d both be in trouble because there is no way I’d ever go on a date with you.” She had no idea why she was teasing him. Or was it flirting? It wasn’t something she was even aware she knew how to do.
The way he smiled back at her told her he knew everything there was to know about flirting.
“My knowledge of anatomy is excellent. I know that you don’t get to the heart through the stomach, so we’re both safe.” He left the room and she followed him.
Downstairs, she put her empty plate on the counter and watched as he served himself a generous portion of food.
Was she supposed to join him? Watch him eat?
He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her so she had little choice but to sit down at the table with him.
And now she wished she hadn’t taken her food to her room, because it felt a little uncomfortable sitting here watching while he ate.
To distract herself, she looked over his shoulder to the living room of the apartment.
It was about three times the size of hers, and the high ceilings and tall windows enhanced the feeling of space. If she’d had the money, she would have chosen a place exactly like this.
Or maybe a pretty house near the water in the Hamptons. A village, where she’d walk dogs and greet everyone by name. She could call in and see her sister—
Harriet stopped the thought in midtrack.
She was building a new life now. A different life.
Fliss would always be her sister. Always be her twin. But she was kidding herself if she thought things weren’t going to change. They’d already changed.
And truthfully she wouldn’t want to live in the Hamptons. She loved Manhattan.
She took a large mouthful of wine.
Ethan glanced at her. “You’re quiet.”
“So are you.”
“I was eating.” He put his fork down, his plate clear. “You’re right. You’re a seriously good cook. Would you really have cooked that for yourself?”
“Yes. I don’t see why you need to eat boring food just because you live alone. And to be honest I haven’t adjusted to being alone yet. I still think I’m cooking for two. Most days I have a ton of food left over. My freezer is bulging.”
“You just broke up with someone?”
“Not exactly.” Although thinking back, that was probably the way she’d made it sound. “My twin sister recently moved out of the apartment we shared.”
“How long have the two of you lived together?”
Harriet took a sip of wine. “Almost all our lives. There was a brief moment between college and work where we didn’t, but not for long.”
“So you’ve always lived with her and now you’re alone.” He put his glass down. “That must feel strange.”
“It feels like a lot of things. I guess strange is somewhere on that list.” It didn’t begin to describe the emotions that were churning inside her.
“So where is your sister now?”
“She’s living in the Hamptons, with the man she’s going to marry. For the second time.”
Ethan leaned back in his chair. “They’ve been married before?”
“Briefly, when Fliss was eighteen. It didn’t last.”
“So they’re doing it again? They don’t learn from their mistakes?”
“Their mistake,” Harriet said, “was breaking up in the first place.”
“So you think getting back together is the right thing to do?”
“It’s not my decision but since you asked then yes, I think it’s the right thing to do. They’re perfect together. They always were. Their breakup was—complicated.”
“Relationships always are. Tell me about Challenge Harriet.” He glanced at her. “You said you were internet dating as a challenge. What did you mean?”
“Nothing.” Why on earth had she mentioned that? That particular detail of her life was far too personal to share with a stranger.
“You weren’t dating because you wanted to meet someone?”
“In a way, but it was more about doing something I found difficult. I went on three dates.”
“And on the last one you escaped through the window.” His eyes gleamed. “That sounds like quite a challenge. Three dates, and not one of the men were interesting?”
“I’m sure there are women out there who would have found them interesting.” Maybe the problem lay with her. She wasn’t good on dates. Especially not first dates. When she didn’t know someone she found it almost impossible to relax. Maybe, if she could conquer her initial shyness in a first date she might be able to make it through to a second date and possibly even a third.
“But you still met up with them.”
“Once. No second dates.”
“Three evenings of your life you’ll never get back. But you made yourself do it. Are you always this hard on yourself?”
“Plenty of people use internet dating. In today’s world where it’s hard to meet anyone, it’s a legitimate way to find a partner.”
“Maybe, but you found it hard. So I wonder why you didn’t find another way.”
“That’s why. Because I found it hard. That’s why I’m doing this. Normally I live life in my comfort zone.”
“Most people do. Is there anything wrong with being in your comfort zone?”
“If you don’t push yourself to do the things that scare you, how will you ever find out if there’s more to life than the one you’re living?” She felt heat warm her cheeks. This conversation was becoming far deeper than she’d intended. Talking to strangers wasn’t something she was good at. Confiding in strangers wasn’t something she ever did.
The only person she’d discussed Challenge Harriet with was Glenys.
He gave her a speculative look. “Good point. And now you’re making me wonder if I should rethink my life.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“No.” There was no sign of mockery in his eyes. “Most of us wake up in the morning and do the same thing we always do. Follow the same habits. Most people hate change, and only do it when it’s forced on them. You are actively embracing it.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say I’m embracing it,” Harriet muttered. “That implies that I’m running forward into change enthusiastically. I’m forcing myself kicking and screaming, looking for excuses to back out and generally struggling all the way.”
“But you’re doing it.” He topped off her glass and did the same with his own. “Doing something you don’t want to do takes self-discipline. I’m impressed.”
He was impressed? “You’re a doctor. You save lives every single day.”
“I thought you weren’t impressed by doctors.”
“That isn’t what I said. I said that being a doctor didn’t increase your appeal as dating material.”
“I feel thoroughly put in my place. If I ever thought being a doctor might earn me bonus points, I stand corrected.” But he seemed amused rather than offended. “Thanks to you, I wouldn’t even have the courage to use a dating app now. My confidence is wrecked.”
He didn’t look as if his confidence had ever suffered even the slightest dent.
“People whose confidence is wrecked don’t smile the way you’re smiling. I bet you’ve never suffered a single confidence wobble in your life.”
“You’d be surprised. So what sort of man would be high on your list as a potential date?”
“Someone who shows interest in something, and someone, other than themselves I suppose.”
Which he was doing.
Since he’d sat down at the table he’d done nothing but ask questions about her, something not one of her three dates had done. And he looked at her while he asked the questions, as if he was genuinely interested in hearing her answer.
She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t a date. Which made the situation all the more ironic. None of her dates had been as interesting as this non-date. None of the men she’d met had captured her attention the way Ethan Black did. And if none of them had also caused that little kick in her pulse rate or that rush of sensation across her nerve endings she chose to ignore that.
Madi nudged her leg and gave a little whine.
Grateful for a reason to leave her thoughts behind, Harriet stood up. “She wants to go out. I’ll take her for a walk.”
“Now?” He glanced at his phone. “It’s late. I’ll come with you.”
“No need.” She already had Madi in her coat and was grabbing her backpack.
“You’re not walking the streets of Manhattan by yourself at this time.” He retrieved his coat from the back of his chair. His movements were slow and controlled, the way they’d been in the emergency room that day. As if he knew that haste was achieved by thoughtful strategy and not by panic.
She couldn’t imagine Ethan panicking. She couldn’t imagine him lying about who he was, or what he did. Or spending a whole evening talking about himself. He wasn’t the sort who would fill a silence with words for the sake of it.
He was the sort who would take care of his sister’s dog even though it meant turning his own life upside down.
That was the part that turned her heart upside down.
That was the part that made him dangerous.
“It’s not that late. And I do it all the time. It’s my job.”
“You don’t want my company?”
She wanted his company very much. That was the problem. “If you’re going to come with me, you might as well have walked Madi yourself. You don’t need me.”
“I need you.” His gaze held hers and for a crazy moment she felt a rush of awareness she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.
Ethan Black needed her.
Then she remembered he needed her for her canine skills. Not for anything else.
“You don’t need me.”
He glanced at Madi. “You only have to look at how calm and well behaved she is to understand how much I need you. In this situation, you’re the team leader.”
“Excuse me?”
“In the emergency room, we have a trauma team leader. Someone who calls the shots during resuscitation. The team leader decides on the priorities, and the timing and sequence of investigations so everyone is clear what they’re doing. They’re not involved in the actually clinical procedures—their job is to stand back and make the decisions.”
“You’re the leader?”
“Yes, because that’s my role. My area of expertise. Dogs fall outside my area of expertise.”
She had no problem imagining him as the leader. He had a calm air of authority that would no doubt translate into calm in an otherwise tense atmosphere. The confidence and presence that she found a little intimidating would be reassuring to an injured patient and a busy staff.
Harriet attached Madi’s lead. She couldn’t help wishing he needed her for more than her dog-walking skills. “I hardly think you can compare the skill and complexity of what you do in the emergency room, with what I’m doing here.”
“Skill is the ability to do something well. That usually involves two elements—training and practice. Being a doctor is all about training and practice. It’s not magic.”
She was sure there was a great deal more to it than he described, but she wasn’t about to argue because Madi was looking at her anxiously and she recognized that look.
“We need to get her outside now, or she’s going to have an accident and that wouldn’t be good for your beautiful oak floor.” She crouched down and took Madi’s face in her hands. “We are going in the elevator and you are going to be a good girl. And if we meet Judy you are going to sit and not bark. Is that clear?”
Madi wagged her tail.
Harriet reached for her own coat but Ethan already had it in his hands.
He helped her on with it, and the old-fashioned gesture made her stomach flutter.
Some people would probably find reason to object to the fact that he’d helped her, also the fact that he held the door for her as she walked out of his apartment, but she thought there was nothing wrong with good old-fashioned manners.
They’d been sadly lacking in the last three men she’d dated.
As had interesting conversation.
As they stepped into the elevator she was suddenly aware of the claustrophobic nature of their surroundings. Her arm brushed against his and she felt a shock of sexual awareness. It caught her off guard and she stepped back with a murmur of apology. Their earlier misunderstanding had flavored the air with something sharp and a little dangerous. He’d put thoughts in her head that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe they’d been there but she hadn’t recognized them. All she knew was that if he could turn the simple act of making a meal for someone into something more complicated, what was preventing him from thinking she was brushing against him on purpose? It was a good thing he couldn’t read her mind, because her mind was going to all sorts of places he certainly wasn’t invited.
That brief physical encounter left her with an impression of hard muscle under the wool of his coat. Her nerve endings tingled and she kept her gaze fixed on the seam of the elevator doors, wondering what it was about elevator rides that was so excruciatingly awkward. It was the air of false intimacy, she decided. People who barely knew each other—in this case two people—forced into close proximity by limited space. Where were you supposed to look? To stare at the floor felt apologetic and she had nothing to apologize for. To maintain eye contact felt awkward, and eye contact could be as easily misread as a meal cooked for two.
Harriet continued to stare at the doors, even though there was nothing about them that deserved such close attention.
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.