Moonstruck in Manhattan Read online

  “Before we get into that, tell me about Boyd Carter.”

  Chelsea sighed. “I’d rather not. Talking about him makes me feel stupid.”

  “Perez thinks he may have been the one who trashed your apartment.”

  Chelsea shook her head. “I told Detective Gray it wasn’t Boyd. I simply wasn’t that important to him.” The taxi lurched forward, sending a pedestrian scurrying back to the curb.

  “Where did you meet him?”

  She sent him an exasperated glance. “You’re just going to keep badgering me with questions aren’t you?”

  “Until you convince me that Carter didn’t destroy your apartment. Where did you meet him?”

  “In the restaurant where Daryl and Ramón work. I used to wait tables there part-time. He was charming and attentive. I guess you have to be if you need to have a lot of women in your life. We dated for about three months before I found out that I was merely his weekday amusement. It turned out that I was just a little fling for him. It was just about a year ago at this time that he informed me he wanted to break things off and hoped there were no bad feelings. Then he brought one of his weekend girls to the restaurant for dinner—just to drive home his point.”

  “The jerk,” Zach said.

  “It helped when Daryl spilled red wine on her dress.” It also helped that Zach had taken her hand in his.

  “Remind me to congratulate Daryl.”

  “You can cross Boyd the bum off your list. Believe me, he hasn’t given me a thought since he dumped me. I was never that important to him.”

  When he said nothing, merely raised her hand to his lips, something started to flutter in her stomach. It was the same feeling she’d experienced at the restaurant when Zach had mentioned to Daryl that she’d be staying with him at his apartment.

  Not fear. It was much different than the iciness that had been rolling around inside of her from the moment that she’d seen her apartment door slightly ajar.

  It wasn’t nerves she was feeling either because it was nothing like the butterflies that whammed around inside of her when she went to the dentist. No, she was almost positive that the quick skip of her heart she experienced whenever she pictured herself alone with Zach in his apartment was anticipation.

  “About staying in your apartment…” She paused as the taxi careened around a corner into Central Park and her hand slipped from Zach’s. “It’s not necessary. My roommates can keep an eye on me.”

  “Yes.”

  The short December day had ended. Even when a streetlight briefly illuminated his features, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But he’d agreed with her. She should be feeling relief, not disappointment. Beyond him through the window, she could see the Tavern on the Green lit up like a fairy-tale castle.

  There was always a midnight, said the warning voice in the back of her mind.

  “Yes what?” she asked.

  “Yes, you have two roommates who can keep an eye on you. But they don’t get home from work until almost two in the morning. I promised Detective Perez that I would personally keep an eye on you.”

  Chelsea clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. What in the world was the matter with her? She wanted to go to Zach McDaniels’s apartment, to be alone with him. There was a part of her that had wanted that from the first time that he’d kissed her. The heat that shot through her every time she pictured being alone with him, kissing him again, was…desire. Giving in to it would be the worst possible thing that either one of them could do.

  “I don’t think that going to your apartment would be the smartest idea,” she said.

  “No.”

  Chelsea felt her heart sink to her stomach. “Then it’s settled.”

  He turned to her then. “Chelsea, you’re staying with me until we find out who’s responsible for the threats.”

  It was joy she was feeling now, wild and free. It was ridiculous and it was wrong and it was absolutely wonderful.

  “Ramón and Daryl will be staying at my place too, until your landlord fixes the door and beefs up the security system. I have three guest rooms, plenty of space for everyone. That way all of us will have our eyes on you.”

  Chelsea stared at him while her heart plummeted right down to her toes.

  “I thought you’d feel more comfortable so I made the arrangements with Daryl when we stopped by the restaurant. He has a key.”

  “You think of everything.” Everything except what she’d been thinking. And wanting.

  CHELSEA STARED at herself in the small mirror that graced the executive bathroom in Zach’s office. Studying her reflection only confirmed what she knew already. She had a straight nose, okay mouth, flyaway hair and fairly plain features.

  No one would ever mistake her for a beauty and until this very minute she’d never aspired to be one.

  She’d had a different kind of a dream.

  Zach McDaniels was mixing her all up. Turning, she paced the small distance to the shower, then whirled and walked to the door. She wanted him in spite of the fact that he was a total mistake—a heartbreaker, everything her mother had ever warned her against in a man.

  In the plus column, he wasn’t a bum. A bum didn’t offer to take you and your roommates into his home. She might prefer that Zach wanted to carry her off alone to his apartment, but she couldn’t deny that his willingness to provide shelter for her roommates was sweet.

  She paced to the shower and back to the door. On the minus side, he didn’t seem to want her.

  And that was a big minus—a real sticking point.

  For the past half hour since they’d arrived at his office he’d either been on the phone or sitting at his conference table totally absorbed in the page proofs for the next issue of the magazine. He seemed to have forgotten all about her.

  Turning, she walked back to the mirror and studied her reflection again. The truth was she was totally forgettable. All her life men had walked away from her and never given her another thought. Her father had been the first, but certainly not the last. Boyd the bum had only been the most recent in a string of men who’d forgotten her. There’d been Jimmy, the boy who’d given her her first—rather sloppy and disgusting—kiss.

  She turned away from the mirror and paced to the door again. It wouldn’t do to go through a litany of all of them. It was simply too depressing. Once this business with the threats was over and her articles had all been written and printed, Zach would walk away and forget her, too.

  Unless she did something about it…

  Stopping short on her path to the shower, she glanced down at the skirt. Could she use it? There were times when she was sure it had worked on Zach.

  It was only recently that it hadn’t. Could it be losing its power? Quickly, she pressed a hand to the bubble of panic that was blossoming in her stomach. Perhaps, the staples and the tape had weakened it.

  Unfastening it at the waist, she pulled down the zipper, then wiggled it down her legs. When she picked it up, she heard two staples ping against the tile floor. Carefully hanging it over the towel rack, she ran her hand down it and rubbed the hem between her fingers.

  It looked just the way she felt herself—limp and tired. She didn’t see any trace of that shininess that she’d glimpsed when Torrie had tossed it high in the air at the wedding. Moving back, she let the light over the mirror hit it straight on.

  Nothing. It looked like an ordinary, basic black skirt.

  She sank down onto the toilet and studied it. A few hours ago, she’d been worried that the skirt was working too well on Zach—that he’d never be attracted to her just for herself. Now she was worried that it wasn’t working at all. Suddenly, the humor of the situation struck her and she began to laugh.

  The sudden knock on the door had her covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Are you all right in there?”

  She spread her fingers enough to say, “Fine. I’m fine.” Then she clamped them shut over her lips to smother a fresh burst of giggles. C
lenching her other hand into a fist, she dug her nails into the palm of her hand and took deep breaths. She had to get control.

  Control. She flew up off the toilet seat. That was it. Whirling, she began to pace again. Zach had a thing about it. He didn’t want to want her. He didn’t even like it. She was just going to have to figure out a way to break through that tight control he had.

  Frowning, she studied the skirt again. Surely, it hadn’t lost its power entirely. Miranda had sworn that it had worked on Harrison Marsh. Maybe there was a way to revive it. Taking it off the rack, she gave it a little shake. More staples pinged against the tiles and a strip of tape floated to the floor. But when she held it to the light, there still wasn’t even the glimmer of a shine.

  Moonlight, she thought suddenly. Perhaps that was the key. There’d been a full moon in the sky when they’d entered the building.

  As the last piece of tape hit the floor, a thought struck her. How in the world was she going to keep the thing on?

  9

  ZACH PACED to the bathroom door again. She’d been in there forever. He had his hand raised to knock when he heard the low sound—a moan?

  He rapped on the door. “Chelsea?”

  “I’m…fine.”

  She didn’t sound fine. She sounded upset. Hell, she had a right to be. Every time he thought of what might have happened if she’d been in her apartment, if she hadn’t had the sense to run, fear and a sense of helplessness twisted in his gut. His hand was reaching for the knob when he caught himself.

  She was safe. That was the important thing. If she was upset, crying, and he opened the door right now, he would take her into his arms. And once he touched her…

  He wouldn’t be able to stop there. Turning, he made himself walk to the window, as far away from the bathroom door as he could get. The sky was clear enough to reveal a few stars—he counted five, one brighter than the others.

  Keep her safe. The moment he’d made the wish in his mind, he frowned. He hadn’t wished on a star in years. Not since he’d learned that wishes didn’t come true.

  Shifting his attention to the moon, he saw that it was huge and so bright that it nearly made him blink.

  You’ll never let her go…

  He didn’t want to let Chelsea go. The realization streamed through him, leaving him stunned. He wanted to take care of her and protect her. He had from the first moment that he’d seen her.

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out. All the more reason to stick to his plan. He wasn’t going to touch Chelsea again until whoever had destroyed her apartment was behind bars. How could he when he might be responsible for what had happened?

  She might not believe that Carter was behind it, but he wouldn’t rest easy on that score until he could have it checked out. What if it had been his brother?

  A sudden noise from the bathroom had him whirling around and sprinting to the door. Grabbing the handle, he yanked it open and saw Chelsea standing there, clutching the skirt in front of her, her eyes bright with tears.

  “Chels.” A wave of helplessness washed over him and he was reaching for her when she giggled.

  “What is so funny?” he demanded, dropping his hands and struggling to get his system to level.

  “This.” She waved the skirt like a flag in front of her. He heard two sharp pings, then watched her bend over as a fresh wave of giggles erupted. “Whatever magic Daryl worked with this skirt is totally neutralized. The clock has struck twelve and I’m reduced to rags.”

  He was trying to make some sense out of what she was saying when she tucked the skirt over the towel rack and his throat went dry as dust.

  “I can’t wear the skirt.”

  He tried to nod intelligently, but he was having trouble separating sounds into words.

  “Just when I had plans for it.”

  “Right.” His gaze and his mind were focused totally on her legs. The neat little blazer she wore only skimmed the very tops of her thighs. It no longer made him think of a school uniform.

  “Do you have any suggestions about what I should do?”

  Several tumbled into his mind, but one was foremost—he couldn’t seem to push it away. It would be so easy to lift her to the edge of the vanity. Within seconds, he could slide her thighs apart and eliminate any barriers. Then with her legs wrapped around him, he would begin to move….

  He heard a roaring in his ears, his own pulse. More than anything, he wanted to step forward and make the fantasy he’d conjured up in his mind a reality.

  But if he did, he would shatter his resolution into a thousand pieces. Taking a quick step back from the doorway, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’d better put that skirt back on. When you’re decent, we’ll talk.”

  DECENT! CHELSEA frowned at the door Zach had closed behind him. So that was his plan—she was to put her skirt back on so she’d be decent and then they’d talk.

  She shot a glance at the skirt. If she put it back on, she’d be decent all right. The hem would hit her at midcalf—not exactly the look she was going for.

  Still, if she was going to derail his plan and replace it with one of her own, she was going to need all the help she could get. A man-magnet skirt—even if it had been weakened by staples and tape—could not be ignored.

  Reaching for the skirt, she pulled it on, hiking the waistband up to her chest. Then she carefully buttoned her blazer over it and glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung from one wall.

  The big minus was she looked like a cross between a bag lady and the poor little match girl.

  Maybe the skirt wasn’t as pooped out as it looked. She turned sideways. And maybe it was.

  Eyes narrowed, she faced her reflection. Either way, what did she have to lose? If Zach McDaniels intended to walk away from her, she might only have this one night. She wouldn’t have anything at all if she stayed in the bathroom all night.

  As she turned and walked toward the door, she felt the waistband of the skirt start to slip. Suddenly a plan began to take shape in her mind. Maybe she could find a way for the skirt to help her after all. Smiling, she reached for the knob. With any luck at all, she probably wouldn’t be wearing it for very long.

  The office was dark except for the small pool of light falling on the conference table. It took her a moment to locate Zach at the window. His back was to her, one hand was fisted on his hip, the other holding his cell phone to his ear. Beyond him, a full moon shone brightly above the sweep of the New York skyline.

  “What do you mean you can’t locate this…” Zach paused long enough to glance at the card he held in his hand “… Sam Romano?”

  He wasn’t even looking at her, much less thinking about her. Chelsea made herself walk forward. The skirt dropped another inch.

  “Yes, I know he’s supposed to meet me at my office at seven-thirty, but something’s come up—an emergency.” Pausing again, Zach sighed. “Doesn’t he have a cell phone or a beeper that you could reach him on?”

  There was a brief silence before Zach spoke again. “I see. Yes, I’ll expect to see him at seven-thirty then.”

  Chelsea cleared her throat. “I’m decent.” Only because the damn skirt had stopped dropping right at her waist.

  Zach didn’t even glance her way. Propping one forearm against the window, he gazed down into the street. “I was hoping to move our appointment with the security expert up. That way he could get started, take you back to my apartment and you could get some rest.”

  “What about you?” Chelsea asked, moving closer.

  “I have work to catch up on. I’ll be staying here tonight. Mr. Romano will be arranging twenty-four hour protection for you, so you’ll be safe.”

  For a moment, Chelsea said nothing. Zach’s message was pretty clear. He was going to make sure she was taken care of—just not by him. It was a message she’d been given before—by her father. This time she tried to ignore the wave of rejection washing over her. An infant was hardly in a position to change the
mind of a reluctant parent. But she wasn’t an infant anymore. This time, even if she couldn’t change Zach’s mind, she’d have a memory of this one night.

  Dropping her left hand, she grabbed a fistful of the fabric of the skirt and tugged hard. Then she repeated the same procedure with her right hand, wiggling her hips as she did so. But her blazer was doing too good a job of holding the skirt in place. And Zach seemed altogether fascinated by the scene outside the window. While she gave the skirt another sharp tug, she followed the direction of his gaze.

  A Christmas fantasy, she thought as she gazed down at the holiday scene in progress at Rockefeller Center. The tree sparkled with hundreds of lights while skaters blurred together into a rainbow of color as they whirled on the ice rink.

  “For a man who claims not to like Christmas, you sure seem fascinated by that picture-postcard scene.”

  Zach blinked. The truth was he hadn’t been looking at the scene below. From the moment she’d joined him at the window, all he’d been able to see was her reflection in the glass. She looked so pale—like an ethereal creature of the moonlight. Someone who couldn’t be touched or captured. But the woman standing beside him was real. He could touch her, hold her. In spite of all his resolution, all he could think of was reaching out and doing just that. Fisting his hands, he shoved them into his pockets and said, “I don’t like Christmas.”

  “Okay then.” She began unfastening the buttons of her blazer. “You know what they say?” Slipping out of it, she dropped it to the floor.

  “What?”

  “The best way to get rid of a bad memory is to replace it with a new one.” She pulled the button free at her waist.

  “Chelsea, what are you doing?”

  She shot him one look. Green fire, he thought as he backed to the far side of his desk.

  “If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.” She jerked at the zipper. “And this skirt is not helping one bit. It’s supposed to draw you like a magnet, and it’s having the same effect on you as insect repellent.”

  Moonlight pooled around her as she moved toward him. For a moment, the skirt seemed to catch the light and glow. Then it once more became transparent and Zach felt his blood begin to pound.