by Sarah Morgan
“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?”
He grunted a protest as she tried to ease his coat away from his shoulders. It was only when he resisted that she realized how strong he was. And how heavy. And almost all that weight was muscle.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
“You’re a doctor.” She tugged and pulled until she removed the coat. It was no easy feat. He was bigger than her and much stronger. “You should know it’s not good to wrap up when you have a fever. We have to cool you down.”
“Go away.” His teeth were chattering. “Whatever I’ve got, you don’t want it.”
She ignored him. “Help me take your sweater off. Just move a fraction, please, Ethan.” He obviously wasn’t the type who was good at following orders because he didn’t move. She slid her hands up his arms, feeling rock solid muscles. He was built like a weight lifter. She tugged at his sweater, dragging it up the column of his back and trying to ease it over his shoulder.
He grunted a protest. “When I imagined you undressing me, it didn’t go quite like this.”
He’d imagined her undressing him? Her heart gave a little flutter and then she remembered that he had a fever. He probably didn’t know what he was saying.
Great. It took delirium for a sexy guy to pay her a compliment.
“Keep the jokes until later. Is there someone you want me to call? Who is your doctor?”
“I’m the doctor—” He broke off in a dry, hacking cough. “Get out, or you’ll catch it.”
“I never get sick.” She tugged and pulled, but he was heavy and gave her no help. By the time she’d removed his sweater she was out of breath. “Although of course now I’ve tempted fate and I’ll probably have bubonic plague by Monday, but I’ll worry about that later. Hopefully by then you’ll be better and in a position to save my life. Right now I need to get your jeans off.”
“Is that an indecent suggestion?” He coughed again and she winced.
“Stop talking. You sound as if you’re going to cough up your lung. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”
“I thought I’d be fine after a lie-down.”
“For a doctor, you’re pretty stupid.”
His breathing was raspy. “I think I might have caught something.”
“No kidding. You trained for all those years to tell me that?”
“You really should get out of here.” He spoke as if every word was an effort.
“No, because if you die in the night I don
’t want that on my conscience. I already have enough scars and baggage to deal with. Carrying any more will give me spinal problems.”
“How come you suddenly have so much to say for yourself? What happened to shy Harriet?”
“You’re weak and can’t fight back.”
“You’re right about that.” His eyes closed. “I don’t feel too good.”
“Because you’re burning up like a rocket launcher. Any minute now you’re going to be propelled into space. Still, I guess the advantage of that is that the rest of us wouldn’t catch it and to be honest it doesn’t look like a whole lot of fun. We need to get the rest of these layers off you. If I undress you are you going to take it the wrong way like you did when I cooked dinner?” She reached for the hem of his T-shirt but he stopped her.
“I was an asshole.”
“I’m not arguing with that. The only reason I didn’t walk out and leave you to deal with Madi on your own is because I care too much about her.”
“C-cold.” His teeth were chattering and his body shuddering.
“You’re not cold. I could barbecue ribs on your head. You need to strip. And I need to get you liquids.”
“Liquids. Yes.” He hacked again and slowly hauled himself to a sitting position, doubling over as she watched helplessly. She could sense his frustration, his exasperation with the weakness of his own body.
And she felt a twinge of unease.
She’d never seen anyone get so sick, so fast.
What if it wasn’t the flu? What if it was something more serious? She hoped the anxiety knotting inside her didn’t show on her face. How did he handle serious cases in the ER? She’d be standing there gnawing her nails down to the skin wondering what she was missing.
“Can you stand up? Could you make it to the shower? We need to cool you down.”
Without answering, he lay back down and covered himself with the soft throw that lay across the bed.
Harriet pulled it off again. “I’ll take that as a no, but either way I still need to get your jeans off.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
She took comfort from the fact he still had a sense of humor. If he were dying of something serious, he wouldn’t be laughing, would he?
She glanced at the snug fit of his jeans and felt her color rise. “Can you at least undo them?”
He moved his hands slowly and then let them fall away to his sides. “No.”
Rolling her eyes, Harriet took over.
It took her two attempts to unbutton his jeans, her fingers fumbling and inept as she tried to subdue her mind’s sudden determination to take her imagination to places she definitely didn’t want to go.
Thankfully he seemed pretty out of it so he wasn’t likely to remember her struggles to undress him.
Clenching her jaw, she pulled at his jeans, each tug revealing a little more masculinity. Taut, muscular abs, the light shadow of hair across his chest and on his thighs.
She averted her eyes from his black boxer shorts.
He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Not that she’d laid eyes on that many. Her love life had been as small and cautious as the rest of her life.
Boring, some would say and she wouldn’t have argued with that.
She turned away and folded his jeans.
She was fantasizing over a half-dead guy. What was wrong with her? But she knew the answer to that, of course. Right now he was vulnerable rather than intimidating. And even half-dead, Ethan Black was sexier than any guy she’d ever met.
“Stay there and don’t move. I’m going to fetch you a drink.”
“Whiskey.”
“Not that sort of drink. And we should try and cool you down. I’m going to turn up the air-conditioning. Do you have any Tylenol? Ibuprofen?” She felt a flash of exasperation as she saw him shake his head. “What sort of a doctor are you?”
“The sort who lives at the hospital.” He coughed again and she winced.
“I can’t believe you don’t even have Tylenol.” She walked into his bathroom and wet a towel. “Here. Try this.” She wiped it across his forehead and he shuddered.
“F-freezing.”
“I’m the one who is supposed to stammer. This is role reversal.”
“You’re intimidating when you’re in charge.”
She ignored that. “Stay there. And if you try and get out of bed, I’ll give you something to stammer about.”
His eyes stayed closed. “You’re only this brave because you know I’m too weak to resist.”
It was true.
She went into her own bedroom and removed Tylenol and ibuprofen from her packing.
Then she went downstairs and filled a jug with water.
She added ice, thinking that the evening was less stressful than dinner would have been. If they’d had dinner, he would have been the one in charge. The one with the experience and the expertise. Right now, she had the upper hand.
He was easier to handle when he was sick. He’d lost some of the cool authority that made her feel a little inadequate and him seem unapproachable.
On the other hand that wasn’t a good sign.
Maybe she should do an internet search on “raging flu symptoms that come on in a matter of hours.” What if it wasn’t the flu? Should she call someone?
She was about to head back upstairs when she heard the buzzer.
It had to be someone who lived in the building, otherwise the doorman would have called.
In the time she’d been staying here the only person who had arrived directly at the door was Judy when she’d come to complain about the noise.
She glanced at Madi. “If that’s a neighbor telling me you’ve been barking again you are in trouble.”
Madi wagged her tail happily.
Harriet opened the door.
A woman stood there, her hair sparkling with snow.
“Hi, I—” She broke off, clearly bemused to see Harriet. “Did I get the wrong apartment? I was looking for Ethan.”
Harriet’s heart plummeted.
In everything Ethan had said, it hadn’t occurred to her that he was dating anyone right now.
But why wouldn’t he be?
Reminding herself that his love life wasn’t exactly her business, she remembered her manners and opened the door. “This is the right apartment. Come in.”
“No need. I don’t want to disturb anything—” The other woman seemed intrigued rather than jealous and Harriet wondered why she seemed so relaxed.
“You’re not disturbing anything. I’m Harriet, the dog sitter.” She felt she had a responsibility to make that clear. Whatever this relationship was, she didn’t want to wreck it.
“I’m Susan. Ethan has a dog?” Susan’s eyes popped. “We are talking about the same Ethan? Tall. Too handsome for his own good. A touch on the arrogant side but with a heart of gold?”
She couldn’t have come up with a better description herself.
“Yes. And it’s not his dog. It’s his sister’s dog.”
“Ah. That makes a lot more sense, although even I’m surprised he agreed to take on a dog. Ethan doesn’t love disruption in his life.”
Harriet thought about how often he’d called to see how his niece was doing. “Maybe not, but he loves his sister.”
“And that,” Susan said, “is the heart of gold part. I admit I’m disappointed. For a moment there I thought you were the reason he’s been smiling more at work lately.”
Ethan had been smiling?
“I’m looking after the dog because, as you say, he doesn’t like disruption in his life. So you don’t need to be worried at all.”
“Why would I be worried? Oh—” Enlightenment dawned on her face and she gave a slow smile. “No. I’m a colleague, that’s all. We work together. He didn’t seem himself today and he hasn’t answered his phone since he left the hospital so I wanted to check on him, because I know he lives alone.”
Harriet wondered why that news would make her feel l
ighter.
“Did you say you were a doctor?”
“I am. Why? Are you sick?”
“No, but Ethan is.” Harriet opened the door wider. “He’s barely moved since he arrived home and he has a fever. I assume it’s the flu, but I’m worried it might not be because he got sick faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. Could you take a look at him?”
Susan walked into the apartment and stripped off her coat. “Show me to the patient. Is he irritable and cursing you?”
“No. He’s been well behaved.”
“That’s bad.”
“It is?”
“Ethan is a guy who likes things to go his way. And he’s not good at being sick. Makes him irritable as hell. If he’s not irritable, that’s bad.” She took the stairs two a time and Harriet followed more slowly, thinking that the two of them together in the emergency room must be a force to be reckoned with.
“His room is the first on the left.”
“Got it.” Susan pushed open the door and stood there for a moment. “Well hell, Black, what have you done to yourself this time?”
Ethan didn’t stir and Susan strode over to the bed. “Ethan?” She touched his forehead and her eyebrows rose. “You are one hot man, and for once I’m not talking about your pecs or your abs.”
“I took his clothes off.” Harriet had no idea why that admission should make her blush.
“Good move.” As Susan put her bag down by the bed, Ethan opened his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” The words were little more than a hoarse rasp and set off a coughing fit that lasted a full minute.
“Which one of our goddamn patients gave you that?” Susan leaned forward and hauled him into a sitting position. “Harriet? Can you hold him? I need to listen to his chest.”
Ethan grunted. “I don’t need—”
“I’ll decide what you need. Now shut up or you’ll make yourself cough, and if you give it to me I’ll kill you myself.” Susan pulled a stethoscope out of her bag. “Harriet?”
