Moonlight Over Manhattan: A charming, heart-warming and lovely read that won’t disappoint!

Satisfied that Madi’s needs were going to be met by someone, if not by him, Ethan focused on his work.

His first patient was a forty-five-year-old male who had suffered chest pains while shoveling snow.

The first responders at the scene had already transmitted the twelve-lead EKG. Someone showed it to Ethan and he instructed them to page the on-call interventional cardiologist.

Moments later the man arrived in the department.

“I was clearing the snow from the steps and I started to feel funny,” he told Ethan. “My chest was kind of tight, like someone was squeezing it. And I thought I was being a wimp, so I carried on. But then my wife appears at the top of the steps and she says, ‘Mike, you’re whiter than the damn snow.’ She called 911.”

“Good decision. I’ve already checked the EKG the first responders sent through and it shows that you’re having a heart attack.” Ethan saw the fear in the man’s eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in good hands, Michael. We’re going to take good care of you and I’ve called the cardiologists.” He turned to the team. “Can we get a repeat EKG? We need two large-bore IVs and let’s get him on a nitro drip. We need to prepare him for the cath lab.” He turned back to his patient, explained what was happening and questioned him carefully.

“I can’t believe it’s my heart. I feel pathetic. It was just a bit of snow. How the hell can this happen?”

“You’re underestimating the physical demands of shoveling snow, especially heavy snow like the storm we had last night.” Ethan slotted his stethoscope into his ears and listened to the man’s chest. “It can be as demanding as a sprint, except that clearing snow usually lasts longer. Maybe a better comparison would be a heavy session on the treadmill. And the combination of cold and physical exertion increases the load on your heart. You probably had a spike in your blood pressure. At least you had the good sense to stop and call 911. We see plenty of folks who keep going, who think they’re being weak and don’t stop. You stopped. That was smart.”

“You’re sure it’s a heart attack?”

Ethan showed him the EKG. “This shows that you’re having what we call a STEMI. That stands for an ST Elevation Myocardial Infarction. We’re going to keep you attached to a heart monitor for now and send you for an angiogram.”

They prepared him for transfer to the cardiac catheterization lab, placing a portable monitor and oxygen tank on the bed.

One of the less experienced interns looked stunned. “Shoveling snow? If he’d been a walk-in I would have assumed he’d pulled a muscle.”

“If someone comes in with chest pains after they’ve been shoveling snow, assume it’s a heart attack. He needs PCI in the cardiac catheterization lab. We aim for a door-to-balloon time of ninety minutes or less.”

“Ethan? Could you take a look at this?” The triage nurse called him over and Ethan moved on to the next patient.

It was a busy day. His mind was taken up by the demands of his job. His patients.

He didn’t give his sister or her dog a single thought.

HARRIET TUGGED HER wool hat further over her ears and checked the address twice. Normally she picked Madi up from Debra’s house, but her client was flying to the West Coast for a couple of weeks to deal with a family emergency and had left Madi with her brother. He lived in the West Village, which was technically out of the area the Bark Rangers covered, but Harriet told herself this was an exception. She went where her clients went, and if Madi was staying in the west side of lower Manhattan then that was where Harriet would go. It would require some redesigning of her schedule because she wouldn’t be able to handle the walks on the Upper East Side, but they had enough dog walkers in that area to ensure that she should be able to accommodate this latest change of plan.

The temperature had plummeted and an icy wind bit through her clothing. The promised snow had finally started falling.

Harriet was wearing her weatherproof coat and her weatherproof trousers, but still she was shivering.

Debra wanted Harriet to walk Madi twice a day, every day.

“My brother is wonderful and I adore him, but he has no clue about dogs. I’ve promised him you will walk Madi and do whatever is needed. He’s a doctor. Busy. I don’t want Madi to be a bother.”

Knowing Madi as well as she did, Harriet didn’t hold out much hope in that direction.

It wasn’t that Madi was a bother exactly, more that she was acting in a way representative of the breed. Madi was a spaniel, a working dog, intelligent and inquisitive. Harriet adored her, but she hadn’t found her particularly adaptable. She wasn’t convinced she would respond to a change of environment as smoothly as Debra was anticipating.

It was probably a good thing Debra’s brother was a doctor. Presumably he’d be patient and caring and adept at handling difficult situations.

Someone patient and kind was exactly what Madi needed to help her settle into her new home.

She checked the address again. This part of Manhattan was a maze of winding streets. There were bookstores and bistros, bars and coffee houses. It was an area rich in history, with cobblestone streets lined with brownstones and beautiful town houses. It was also an easy place to get lost.

According to Debra, her brother lived in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom duplex loft apartment.

By the time Harriet found the apartment block, the light was fading and the tips of her fingers were numb.

She planned to take Madi for a half-hour walk, although she wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Not only was her ankle throbbing, but it was never great for the dogs when it had been snowing. The streets were mucky and winter was always hard on the dogs’ paws. She constantly thought about the dogs, about their welfare and what she could do to make their lives the best they could be.

Fliss said it was the reason they had a thriving client base, but Harriet never thought about that side of it. She didn’t do it for the owners, she did it for the animals. Their comfort and happiness was what mattered to her and if that led to a happy owner, then that was a bonus.

Snow or no snow, Madi needed the exercise. Debra had given her the key, and the moment she opened the door to the apartment she knew something was wrong.

She’d fostered enough pets to sense disaster when it was close by.

She had no idea what the apartment looked like normally, but she guessed it was nothing like this.

Cushions lay scattered on the floor, their stuffing surrounding them like clouds. Toilet paper was festooned over the furniture like giant ribbons.

Staring at the mess in dismay and disbelief, Harriet walked through to the kitchen.

There, on top of a mound of dried pasta sat Madi, looking guilty.

“Oh dear. Did you do this? All by yourself? Boy, are you in trouble, young lady. And a bag of flour too. You’ve been busy.” Harriet eyed the snow-like substance covering everything in sight. She dropped her bag, dragged off her hat and her coat and tried to work out where to start. Take the dog out first? Clear up?

She decided that Madi had to be her priority. She’d never known the animal to behave badly before, which had to mean she was distressed. Clearing up could wait. “Poor Madi. What happened? Were you bored? Scared? Is this a very strange place?” She stooped to make a fuss over the dog. She pulled her onto her lap and removed pieces of pasta from her fur. “Don’t worry. I’m here now and everything is going to be fine.”

“I don’t think so. In fact I’d say everything is far from fine.” An icy voice came from the doorway and Harriet turned her head quickly. She hadn’t heard anyone else enter the apartment, and neither had Madi, who wriggled off her lap and bolted for safety, scattering pasta and rice.

The man in the doorway topped six foot, the collar of his long coat turned up against the bitter winter chill, his eyes a steely blue.

Blue eyes. Ice-blue, to go with the icy voice.

She recognized those eyes, and the handsome face, and her heart skipped a beat. It made her feel a little dizzy, but she was comforted by the fact that if she collapsed in front of him he’d know what to do about it.

Why hadn’t it occurred to her that Debra’s brother might be the doctor who had treated her?

Dr. E. Black.

Not Edward, but Ethan.

Broad shoulders hunched, he scanned the wreckage of his kitchen and his living room with incredulity. “What the hell happened here?”

It was a fair question but she wished he’d asked it in a less threatening tone.

Harriet dragged herself back from the land of dreams to uncomfortable reality.

“I’m guessing Madi didn’t appreciate being left alone all day in a strange environment. The poor thing was scared.”

“The ‘poor thing’? What about my poor apartment?”

He strode into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. The noise echoed around them and was the final straw for Madi, who fled behind the kitchen island.

Harriet was about to go to her when there was a knock on his door. Cursing under his breath, Ethan went back to it and dragged it open.

A woman stood there. Harriet guessed she was in her seventies. Her hair was the color of the bag of flour Madi had just exploded over the floor and walls. She was slightly bent and barely reached Ethan’s chest, but the look she gave him was fierce.

“Dr. Black.” She peered at him over the top of her glasses. “We appreciate how hard you work and your contribution to society. I’d even go so far as to say you’re something of a hero around here, but that doesn’t change the fact that your dog has been howling all day. I’m sorry, but we cannot tolerate it.”

“Howling?” His bemused response made it clear he had no idea how a dog might respond if left alone in a strange apartment all day.

Harriet knew.

She looked questioningly at Madi, who looked back with sorrowful eyes.

“Howling. It has driven us all crazy. As you know, well-mannered dogs are allowed in this building, but—” She broke off, her attention caught by something over his shoulder. “Oh my—whatever has happened?”

“I have yet to work that out, Mrs. Crouch. When I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Have you had a break-in? An intruder? Because—”

“No break-in. My intruder has four legs. He’s my sister’s dog. She had to fly to San Francisco because my niece has been in a serious accident. I’m helping her out.”

Harriet frowned.

Did he not realize Madi was a girl?

Mrs. Crouch seemed to soften a fraction. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know how close you are to your family. How is she doing?”

“I haven’t called the hospital yet. I’m going to do that in a moment.” He raked his fingers through his hair, still damp from the snow. “I apologize for the howling, it won’t happen again. I understand your frustration and I share it. I’d be grateful for your patience while I fix this, and you have my word that I will fix it.”

Mrs. Crouch melted. She patted him on the arm. “Don’t you worry, Dr. Black. We can cope with a little howling if that’s what it takes. Call your sister. You must be worrying to death. I’m sorry to have bothered you at such a difficult time.”

Harriet blinked. He’d turned her from attack to apology with a few sentences.

He probably had a wealth of experience dealing with difficult situations in the emergency room, but still that was a particularly smooth performance. He’d been kind, polite and caring.

The man was wasted as a doctor. He should be a hostage negotiator.

Which was a relief, because for a moment there he’d made her a little nervous.

By the time he finally closed the door again, Harriet had relaxed a little. That feeling lasted until he turned back to her and she saw that the dangerous glint in his eyes was back.

Whatever restraint had prevailed when he’d talked to his neighbor appeared to have abandoned him. And she knew why. Mrs. Crouch wasn’t the focus of his anger.

That seemed to be reserved for Harriet, although she had no idea why he should be holding her responsible. She wasn’t the one who had burst the bag of flour and thrown pasta and toilet paper around his apartment.

Whatever the reason, he was angry, and she wasn’t good with angry men.

Part of her wanted to follow Madi and hide behind the sofa but she stood her ground and reminded herself that he had reason to be a little annoyed, but he shouldn’t be angry with her.

“You’re the dog sitter my sister talked about?” His words were clipped and she swallowed.

“I’m not a sitter. I’m a dog walker, and yes, I’m—”

“So if you’re a dog walker, why didn’t you walk the damn dog?”

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Harriet had to force herself to inhale. “Excuse me?”

“If your job was to walk the dog, why didn’t you do it?” The anger in his voice rattled her composure so badly it took her a moment to respond.

“I arrived five minutes before you did. My plan was to take Madi out and then clear up.”

“Two walks.” He spoke between his teeth, as if he didn’t dare move his lips in case a torrent of heated words flowed out and scalded them both. “Debra said she’d arranged for you to walk the dog twice a day.”

“That’s true, but she told me not to come this morning because she’d make sure Madi was walked and settled before leaving her.”

He scanned the rooms, his expression one of naked incredulity. “Does she look settled to you?”

Madi whined.

“Could you lower your voice? You’re making her nervous.” Not only Madi. Ignoring the fact that her heart was thumping and her palms were sweaty, she stood up and crossed the room to Madi. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared. There’s nothing to be scared of.” She was talking to herself as much as the dog.

“It most certainly is not ‘okay.’ What did you say your name was again?”

It felt a little better with Madi in her arms. She could feel the warmth of her body through her sleek fur. The rapid pounding of her little heart. She was sure hers was doing the same.

“Harriet. Harriet Knight.”

“Well, Miss Knight, I have had a long and testing day so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not altogether delighted to return home and find my apartment trashed.”

“I wouldn’t describe it as trashed exactly—”

“No?” He stared at the pasta that carpeted the floor. “How would you describe that? What even happened to it?”

“I’m guessing she was interested in the contents of the bag so she decided to take a closer look. While she’s living with you it’s probably a good idea to put food away in the cupboards so it’s secure. I’ll deal with it.” Technically it wasn’t part of her job, but she didn’t want him to be angry with Madi.

“And what happens tomorrow?” He prowled across the apartment, advancing on her with an ominous sense of purpose. “And the day after that? Am I going to be coming home to this every day?”

“I d-d—” She tried to respond but she couldn’t get the word out. It was stuck. Blocked. Horror washed over her. Horror and embarrassment. Had that really just happened? Yes, it had. She’d stammered. After all these years of never stammering once, she’d stammered. She tried again. “I d-d-d.”

No. No!

Madi gave a yelp of protest and Harriet realized it was because she was squeezing the dog a little too tightly.

She relaxed her grip and forced herself to breathe.

Why had this happened now? But she knew the answer to that, of course. It was because Ethan Black was yelling at her. She wasn’t good with angry people. Or maybe the stress of continually pushing herself out of her comfort zone was getting to her. Yes, maybe it was that.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have noticed her speech issues. He was too preoccupied by the mess in his apartment.

She swallowed, hoping that it was just a blip. She wanted to try speaking again to test that theory.

“There are days when I’m rarely home. Debra assured me the dog would be no problem.”

“Madi was b-b-b-ored.” Not a blip. Now that the stammering had started, she didn’t seem able to stop it. Mortified, Harriet decided the only option was to stop talking. She had to get out of here and try and calm herself down. Had to work out what had gone wrong.

She felt like a teenager again, terrified to speak in case the words jammed in her mouth.

Terrified of impatient glances or, worse, pity.

It didn’t matter what Ethan Black thought of her, she couldn’t sort herself out with him scowling at her.

She scrambled to her feet, grabbed Madi’s lead and her coat and took her to the door, grabbing her own coat on the way.

“Where are you going?”

“Walk.” She used a single word and didn’t hang around for a longer conversation. She fled.

This was one challenge too far.

CHAPTER SIX

ETHAN STARED AT the closed door in frustration and disbelief.

Walk? Walk where? It was snowing outside and the temperature was dropping. Not to mention the fact that they’d been in the middle of a conversation about how to handle the dog.

The dog.

It occurred to him that a stranger had just walked out of his apartment with his sister’s beloved pet.

“Dammit.” He ran his hand over his face. What was he supposed to do now?

She’d taken the dog. His sister’s dog, who was his responsibility. And by the look on her face, she wasn’t intending to return in a hurry. Maybe not at all.

Why had she run out like that?

Guilt flashed through him and he ran through the conversation in his mind.

He’d walked through the door, seen the mess and—

Yelled.

He winced, hit by a stab of regret and remorse. He’d definitely yelled.

And something about her had changed when he’d done that.

She’d been tense and defensive and then she’d stammered.

He thought back, remembering the look of dismay on her face.

At the time he hadn’t thought anything of it, mostly because he’d been too focused on his own emotions. He’d registered the disfluency in her speech, but ignored it.

Now he remembered the flash of panic and mortification in her eyes, as if something dire and desperate had happened.

Her appalled reaction told him this was something she fought against. He’d dated a speech-language pathologist for a while when he was an intern, and he remembered her telling him that stressful situations could sometimes trigger a relapse in people who generally had the condition under control.

What if he’d caused the stressful situation?

What if Harriet Knight didn’t normally stammer?

He probably shouldn’t have yelled at her, but he’d had a seriously bad day and returning to find his apartment looking like the inside of a garbage disposal unit hadn’t helped. Surely she could see that?

And he hadn’t been yelling at her exactly. He’d been yelling generally.

His attempt to justify his behavior had no impact on his guilt levels because the truth was none of it was her fault.

He was about to work out whether he should go after them or not, when his phone rang.

He saw from the caller display that it was his sister in California.

Great.

Perfect timing.

His concern for his niece eclipsing his worry about the dog, Ethan answered the phone.

He was relieved when Debra told him everything was going smoothly.

“Good.”

“How about you? How is Madi? Has she been good today? Is she settling in?”

Ethan looked round his wrecked apartment. Neither his sister nor his niece needed anything else to be anxious about. And he certainly didn’t dare confess that right now he didn’t even know where their precious dog was. He had to hope Harriet returned with her. If she didn’t—well, he’d worry about that when it happened. “She seems to be settling fine.”

“And Harriet showed up on time? Well, of course she did. I don’t know why I’m even asking that. Harriet is the most reliable person on the planet. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Ethan thought of the way she’d scolded him for upsetting the dog. “Charming.”

“I knew you’d like her. I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me before but she’d be perfect for you.”

“What?! Debs—”

“Just trying to turbo boost your romantic life.”

“My romantic life is fine, thanks.”

“No, your sex life is fine. Your romantic life is dead.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “I draw the line at talking about sex with my sister. And I have all the romance I want, or need.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You were married. Been there, tried that, yada yada. But just because you and Alison ended up on the rocks doesn’t mean you can’t try again. I don’t know Harriet that well but I love what I know and I would have said you’re exactly her type.”

Ethan doubted Harriet would agree.

He’d never met a woman more eager to get away from him.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he was the reason she’d fled the apartment in such a hurry.

The odd thing was that she seemed familiar, and yet for the life of him he couldn’t think why. He didn’t own a dog, and he wasn’t the type of guy who forgot the women he dated. Could she be a friend of a friend? Someone he’d met in a group?

He asked a few more questions about his niece, ended the call and poured himself a whiskey. He drank it neat, but it did nothing to salve his conscience.

He had a right to be annoyed, but he didn’t have a right to make her the target of his frustration.

Since when had he been a bully?

To work off his tension, he grabbed two large garbage bags and started cleaning the apartment. He tried to look on the positive side. At least the dog didn’t seem to have bathroom issues. There was no water damage. Nothing lasting. The dog—he had to remember to call it Madi. Madi Madi—hadn’t peed.

But what if tomorrow she did?

What if tomorrow she took her boredom out on his sofa? And if she carried on howling it would make him unpopular with his neighbors. He didn’t have time to deal with aggravation in his private life. Hopefully Harriet would return with the dog, but even if she did the problem wouldn’t be solved. There was tomorrow to think about. And the next day.

He took his frustrations out on the cleaning and didn’t stop until the place was shining. No one would have guessed a dog had ever entered his apartment.

He’d cleared up the last of the mess when the doorman called up to tell him Harriet was downstairs.

Despite the fact that he was about to let the perpetrator of the mess back into his apartment, Ethan felt nothing but relief.

She’d returned with the dog and saved him difficult explanations and more stress.

He opened the door and Harriet walked straight past him, keeping her head down.

Ethan closed the door carefully, knowing he had a situation far more complicated to unravel than the one with Mrs. Crouch.

What was the best approach? Should he raise the fact that she’d stammered? Should he apologize or would that embarrass her more? No, it was probably better to pretend he hadn’t noticed. He’d keep his apology general.

“I apologize for shouting. Not that it’s an excuse, but I had a difficult day.”

Finally she looked at him, and her eyes were accusatory and angry. “So did Madi.”

He tried again. “I meant that my day was difficult before I arrived home. I work in the emergency room. I lost a patient.” The moments the word left his lips, he regretted them. Why had he said that? Death was part of his job. He dealt with it in his own way, and his way never involved sharing his feelings with other people. What was he hoping for? Sympathy? Or was he simply offering up an excuse for his behavior, hoping for forgiveness.