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 whatever 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.”
“You could try being less sure of yourself all the time. That might make you a little more endearing.”
He put the glass down, spilling some of it. “So next time a patient is bleeding out you want me to tell him I’m not sure what I’m doing? Believe it or not, when people are sick they want to feel as if they’re in good hands. They want confidence.”
“Tell me about your marriage. What went wrong?” She mopped up the water he’d spilled.
“That’s a personal question.”
“No more personal than the ones you were asking me.”
“But you didn’t answer.”
She shifted the pillows behind him so that he was more comfortable. “I told you about Charlton.”
“You told me nothing about Charlton. Was he good in bed?”
She paused, the pillow in her hands. She didn’t know whether to put it down or suffocate him with it. “I don’t know. I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I could never quite relax around him and I can’t imagine ever going to bed with a man if I can’t relax. How would that even work? Don’t answer that,” she said hastily, stuffing the pillow behind his back. “It was rhetorical.” She reached for the throw and pulled it over his legs. “Now that you’ve cooled down, we need to be careful you don’t get cold.”
“I had no idea you knew so much about caring for someone with a fever.”
“Susan gave me a list of instructions. And she called earlier to see how you were.”
“So if you didn’t sleep with Charlton, who was the last man you slept with?”
Harriet sighed. “I’m starting to wish Susan had found a way to knock you unconscious. Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I’ll rest when you’ve answered my question.”
“His name was Eric. He worked as a vet in our local practice. Are you done now?”
“No.”
“I think I preferred it when I thought you might die.”
His smile was faint, but definitely there. “That could still happen. This is a lull, brought on by an excess of painkillers and antibiotics.”
“I will write your obituary. Here lies Ethan, who never knew when to stop asking tactless questions.”
“So you slept with Eric. And the earth didn’t move.”
“I never said the earth didn’t move.”
“Your expression said it. Was that why you broke up?”
“No!” She picked up his glass, intending to refill it. Why were they even talking about this? “He didn’t want a relationship. He wanted the sex part.”
“I can understand that.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“No, I mean I understand him wanting to have sex with you. Any man would.”
She almost dropped the glass. “Stop saying things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes me uncomfortable.”
“Isn’t that what Challenge Harriet is all about? I’m pushing you out of your comfort zone. You’re welcome.”
“I’m supposed to be grateful you’re embarrassing me?”
“No. You’re supposed to answer my questions until you’re not embarrassed. It’s okay to talk about sex. It’s okay for women to love sex.”
“I don’t love sex.” The words came out before she could stop them and she saw his eyes darken.
She wanted to snatch the words back because this was a conversation she definitely didn’t want to have.
“So the earth really didn’t move.”
Not even a faint tremor, but she didn’t want to admit that to him.
It seemed she didn’t have to because he nodded. “Interesting. So who did make the earth move?”
“What’s this sudden interest in sexual seismic activity? I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“You’re shy, so whoever is with you would need to take their time and gain your confidence before going any further. I’m guessing Eric and Charlton both jumped on you like dogs in heat.”
That was exactly how it had happened.
“What happened with your wife?” If he could ask personal questions, so could she. “What went wrong?”
“She married me.” He slumped back against the pillows and let his eyes close.
“Oh no, you don’t get off that easily, buster.” Harriet folded her arms. “If you embarrass me, then I can embarrass you.”
“I’m not embarrassed. I don’t particularly like talking about my marriage, that’s all. No man wants to confront his failures.”
“She must have contributed too. A relationship is never one-sided, even a bad one.” And she’d been in a few bad ones.
“All right, let’s talk about my ex-wife. I deserve it, I guess. What do you want to know?”
“Where did you meet?”
“She’s a journalist. She was doing a series on real life in the ER. She interviewed me and then decided I was good on camera and she wanted to make the whole series about me.”
“So you’re a movie star?”
“Hardly.”
“I bet you had fan mail.”
He cracked open one eye. “What makes you think that?”
“Because people are naturally drawn to doctors. They work on the assumption that you’re caring and a bit special. That’s before they get to know you, of course.”
“Kick a man when he’s down.”
“I will.”
He gave her a sardonic look. “You don’t seem to be particularly drawn to doctors.”
“I could be. There’s a kind of built-in attraction. The word Doctor says good guy. Caring. Able to save your life if you jump from a window and fall in the Dumpster.”
“So why aren’t you drawn to me?”
She was. She really was, although she suspected that had nothing to do with the fact that he was a doctor. “Because you’re irritable, shouty, and you think you know it all.”
“Shouty? Is that even a word?”
“It is in my world.”
“I shouted at you once.”
“But it was loud.”
“You’re never going to forgive me for that one?”
“I’ve forgiven you, but we were talking about attraction. I would never date someone who makes me stammer.”
“That happened in the first five minutes of meeting you. I should get a free pass. And you’re not stammering now.”
“That’s because you’re weakened and not a threat to me.”
“What happens when I’m fully recovered?”
“By then Debra will be back and we can both go back to our normal lives.”
He frowned slightly, as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “So you’re saying you’re not at all attracted to me?”
“Not at all,” she lied. “Not even a tiny bit. You were telling me about your wife.”
“We dated for eighteen months and were married for six. Then we both woke up one day and agreed it wasn’t working. By that time we were little more than roommates. She was dedicated to her work, and I was dedicated to mine. There was no room for anything else in our lives.”
Harriet felt something tug inside her. “That’s sad.”
“Do I look sad?”
“No. And that’s what makes it even sadder.”
“Not everyone needs a long-term relationship.”
“You have plenty of long-term relationships. You love your sister. You obviously love your niece. You’re close to your parents. You have lifelong friends you still see. Those are long-term relationships.” What she didn’t say was that he had more long-term relationships than she did, although she’d gathered a few more lately since Daniel met Molly and Fliss had got back together with Seth.
She wanted one of her own. She wanted to share her life with someone special. Someone who would know her. Someone who liked the way she was and didn’t expect her to put on an act or pretend to be someone different. Was that too much to ask?
Ethan gave her a curious look. “Maybe what I mean is that I don’t need a wife.”
“You make it sound like a liability. Or an accessory. I don’t need a new coat, I’m perfectly fine with the one I already own.”
“That’s how it felt. I felt bad about myself the whole time I was married.”
She couldn’t imagine him feeling bad about anything. “Why?”
“Because I was focused on work and I felt guilty about that. And so did she. Our relationship felt like pressure, not pleasure.”
She had to admit it didn’t sound much like the relationship she was hoping to find one day. “Did you love her?”
He was silent for a moment and the simple fact that he had to think about his answer told her everything she needed to know. “Not sure,” he said finally. “I thought I did, or I wouldn’t have married her. We got together because we were similar in many ways, but being similar isn’t necessarily a good thing. Were you in love with Eric? You said he didn’t want a relationship, which implies that you did.”
She wondered how he always managed to ask the questions she didn’t want to answer. “I think I was in love with the idea of a relationship more than I was with Eric. I know I have to be careful. My childhood left me with a need for warmth and security in my home life. I have to be careful not to be so desperate for that type of comfort, that I make bad decisions.”
“That sounds sensible, if a little clinical. Do you always think everything through carefully? Haven’t you ever made a wild, wanton decision?”
“Never.”
His eyes closed again. “If I didn’t feel as if I’d just done ten rounds in a boxing ring, I’d do something about that. Challenge Harriet.”
“Right now you’re not in a position to challenge anything, Ethan.”
And she wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.