Moonstruck in Manhattan Read online

  “What I think is that we’ve got some puzzle pieces. We won’t know how they all fit together until we get some more. In the meantime, I think that both of you need protection.” He flipped to a new page in his notebook. “It’s the weekend so it would help if you could provide me with an itinerary of your plans for the next two days.”

  “Tomorrow, I’m going to the MOMA, the skating rink at Rockefeller Center and then—”

  “You’re going to have to change your plans,” Zach said turning to Sam. “Tell her it’s too dangerous.”

  Sam’s grin flashed quick and easy as he held up both hands, palms out. “I have this rule not to get involved in domestic disputes. It dates back to my P.I. days.”

  Chelsea wanted to hug him, but she stifled the impulse and smiled at him instead. “Thank you very much, Sam.” She turned to Zach. “You’re determined to print the articles. That means I have to write them. The sooner I do, the sooner this will be over.”

  She was right. He turned to Sam. “Can you protect her?”

  “I have a pair of skates I haven’t used in a few years,” Sam said. “I used to be fairly competent on the ice. If someone is after one or the both of you, we’re not going to lure them out if you hole up for the weekend.”

  “I’ll be coming along, too,” Zach said.

  “Great,” Sam said, his grin widening. “That’ll make it real simple to protect you.”

  “YOU CAN’T SKATE with me,” Chelsea said.

  Not bothering to glance up, Zach jerked at a knot in the laces of his skate. “We settled this in the taxi. You’re not going out on that ice alone.”

  As far as Chelsea was concerned, the only thing that had been settled in the taxi was that Sam had lost the coin toss deciding who was going to go out on the ice with her. The rest of the ride had been taken up with arguing. But the arguing was better than the wall of silence that Zach had built between them since they’d made love.

  When they’d reached his apartment last night, it was as if he’d forgotten that they’d made love together. He’d escorted her politely to one of the guestrooms and told her that they both needed to sleep.

  His control was back in place. He’d probably spent the night listing all the pluses and minuses of making love with her again. The minuses clearly had won. They always did when it came to the men in her life.

  Fine. She took a deep breath. She would just stick to her own agenda. The focus of her second article was to see how the skirt worked at various New York landmarks. She was ahead of schedule thanks to the fact that they’d been asked to leave the Museum of Modern Art.

  From the bench they were sitting on, she could see that the rink was already crowded with a variety of skaters, from children to older couples, from obvious beginners to a young man who was just coming out of a professional-looking spin. There were definitely some men skating without partners. That was a good sign.

  The question was: would the skirt have some effect on them?

  Beside her, Zach muttered under his breath as one of his laces broke.

  Perhaps the bigger question was: would the man sitting next to her let her put the skirt to a test without interfering again?

  Leaning closer to Zach, she said, “I think we need to set up some ground rules here. When you come out on the ice with me, you have to keep your distance and give the skirt a chance to work. No one will come near me if you start lurking too close like you did at the MOMA.”

  “My lurking saved you from being assaulted by a dirty old man.”

  Her brows shot up. “Funny how the security guard thought that you were the one harassing me. You were the one he asked to leave the museum.”

  “Yeah, well, he was conveniently looking the other way when that old man started to paw you. All he saw was my reaction.”

  “You grabbed a helpless old man and pinned him against the wall!”

  When Zach straightened from tying his skate, Chelsea became suddenly aware of how close they were—nearly mouth to mouth.

  “Chels, come back to the apartment with me.”

  She could feel the heat of his breath on her lips. The cool reserve that had been in his eyes since they’d left the office last night had vanished. In its place was something hot, dark and reckless. It had her heart fluttering like the snowflakes that had begun to tumble from the sky.

  When his hand moved to rest along the side of her throat, she felt her pulse skip, then quicken. She wanted him. It was just that quick, that simple, that elemental.

  “Chels—”

  There was a part of her that wanted very much to forget what they’d come here to do and go back to Zach’s apartment. She was even willing to forget the way that he’d pushed her away.

  “What do you say? We could go back and spend the rest of the day—”

  He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. Her whole brain began to fog as he described exactly what they could do for the rest of the day. In some part of her mind, she was aware of sounds—someone clearing their throat, a snatch of music escaping briefly from someone’s headphones. But she was totally lost in the images that Zach was creating. They were so tempting and it would be so easy… She had to say something, anything, or her body was just going to get up and go with him.

  “Excuse me. I was wondering if…”

  Zach didn’t release Chelsea as he turned. “What do you want?”

  The woman, a frazzled looking brunette flanked by two little girls, took a quick step back at Zach’s tone. “I wanted to use the bench. My daughters and I need to put on our skates. I thought because your skates are on, we could…”

  “Of course you can use the bench,” Chelsea said, and the moment that Zach loosened his grip, she stood up.

  Zach pulled her back down. “It’ll just take us a moment to get out of our skates.”

  “Get out of our—” Chelsea felt the sensual fog she’d been trapped in finally lift. “No, we can’t go yet. I have to skate.” She stilled his hands on the laces. Though their faces were close, she didn’t look at him. If she did, all her newfound resolve would waver. “We decided all this last night with Sam and again just now in the taxi. I need this research to finish the articles. The sooner I do, the safer we both will be.”

  Standing, Chelsea smiled at the woman and her two daughters. “Sorry we held you up.”

  SHE WAS AWAY from him in a flash. Although Zach found it difficult to run after her on skates, it got worse once both of his blades hit the ice. Immediately, he began to wobble. Quickly, he grabbed for the nearby rail to steady himself, and by the time he did, he’d lost sight of Chelsea.

  Fighting down a bubble of fear that had already formed in his stomach, he began to swear steadily and silently to himself as he scanned the skaters moving in a wide oval pattern around the rink.

  No need to panic. She was on the rink. She would have to skate past him. All he had to do was wait. When he noticed how white his knuckles were on the hand gripping the rail, he concentrated on relaxing his fingers.

  Then he spotted her at the far end of the rink, skating as if she didn’t have a care in the world. His relief began to war with anger. At her, at himself. She was safe, he reminded himself. They were in a very public place. No one would try anything here. But nothing in the little lecture he was giving himself was having any effect on the urge he had to shake her.

  Frowning, he watched the whirling dervish who’d been wowing the crowd skate alongside of her. He had to clamp down tight on his desire to go punch the guy in the face.

  No one had ever gotten to him this way. He’d never allowed anyone to chip through the careful control he’d layered around himself. Not until Chelsea.

  He’d made an absolute fool of himself at the museum. Not that he was sorry. That old man would think twice before he put his hands on another young woman. But Zach couldn’t forget the fact that for the first time in his life, he’d actually seen red. Just thinking about it was enough to have the fury bubbling up again. If Sam hadn’t been there,
he might have done more than pin that old guy to the wall.

  It wasn’t just his temper that he seemed to lose control of whenever he was around Chelsea. Although that was troubling enough. The fact was he couldn’t stop thinking about making love to her.

  Lord knows, he’d tried. At his insistence, she’d spent the night in his apartment, but he’d put her in his guest room, not in his bed. He’d told her it was because he wanted her to get some sleep. And it was partly the truth. They wouldn’t have gotten any sleep at all if she’d been in his bed. He’d told himself that he needed to keep some objectivity if he wanted to protect her. But he’d also wanted to prove to himself that he could keep some distance between them.

  Well, he’d done that all right. All in all, it was a night that he could be proud of, he thought as disgust rolled around in his belly. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep and he’d hurt Chelsea. Not that she’d said anything to him. But she’d sensed his withdrawal and no doubt was viewing it as rejection.

  “Great work, McDaniels,” he muttered to himself as she sailed past without even a glance in his direction. Only the fact that Mr. Show-off was still at her side kept him at the railing. Close up, the young man looked harmless enough, a teenager out to impress an older woman—although, the kid might not realize that Chelsea was older. She looked like a teenager herself, whipping around the ice in that skirt. His gaze was on her skirt when it happened. Mr. Show-off went into a sudden spin and one of his skates caught the back of Chelsea’s. She was pitching forward onto the ice when Zach pushed off from the railing.

  To offset the fact that his feet immediately sailed out from under him, he lurched forward. Then just as he was about to topple face first into the ice, he jerked his body backward. In a last ditch attempt to find his equilibrium, he flailed his arms in huge circles. Even then, he might have achieved some kind of balance—if he hadn’t been struck suddenly from behind. Seconds later he kissed the ice.

  11

  THE NEXT THING Zach knew he was lying facedown with a huge weight pressing him into the ice.

  “Zach, are you all right?”

  Twisting around, he saw Chelsea’s face first. He managed to take in one good breath before another face blocked hers out. This one was chubby and freckled, framed in a riot of red curls and grinning ear to ear.

  “That was a great trick. Will you show me how to do it?” it asked and then burst into a fit of giggles.

  “Who are you?” Zach asked as he lifted the owner of the face off of him. He figured the kid was about seven or eight.

  “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” the kid said.

  Zach sat up. “This is my friend Chelsea and I’m Zach.”

  “Hi. Here come my friends.”

  Zach turned in time to see a kid in a red jacket throw himself down on the ice and skid into his thigh. A blue-jacketed bullet came next, hitting him in the shoulder as a dynamo in black somersaulted over him.

  “Joey, Sid and Carl,” the redhead said. “I’m Marty.”

  “Zach,” he said, shaking hands with each one, “and my friend Chelsea.”

  “We already know her,” Marty said. “She’s the skirt lady we saw at the TV station yesterday. We got her autograph.”

  As if on signal, another little boy slammed into her and she ended up sitting on the ice next to Zach. “Cub Scouts,” she explained. “They were visiting the TV studio yesterday.”

  “Can I touch the skirt?” Marty asked, crawling across Zach.

  “Sure.”

  At Chelsea’s consent, the boy made a grab for the hem. “It’s soft.” Then lifting it to his nose, he began to sniff it. “It smells like flowers.”

  Immediately, three other little guys began to sniff the skirt.

  “I’m beginning to think this skirt should come with a warning from the Surgeon General,” Zach muttered as he pried the first one loose. “That’s it guys. Cub Scouts don’t sniff ladies’ skirts.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said the blond woman skating to a stop next to Chelsea. “I hope they’re not bothering you. You were so nice to give them your autograph yesterday. Marty, let the nice lady…” Her voice trailed off as he gaze fell on Zach. “Oh, my heavens. You’re the—” She turned to Chelsea. “It’s him, isn’t it? The hottie.”

  Making a quick pivot on the ice, she began to wave frantically. “Mary! Bethany! Come over here! It’s him!”

  CHELSEA SCRAMBLED to her feet, then found herself quickly edged aside by the two other women who had crossed the ice with the speed and focused determination of Olympic racers. Within seconds, they had admonished their sons not to race, had Zach on his feet and backed up against the railing, signing autographs.

  When he sent her a pleading and desperate glance, she couldn’t prevent a smile. He was sweet, she thought. There’d been a gentleness in the way he’d handled little Marty that she hadn’t seen before. And he was being so patient with the women. As her gaze was held by his, a warmth moved through her that was totally different from the other feelings that he’d engendered in her.

  It struck her then and she had to skate to the railing to keep herself from sitting right down on the ice.

  She was in love with Zach McDaniels. Keeping a tight grip on the rail, she turned to stare at him. He was still scribbling on the notebooks the women were pushing at him, but his eyes were on her. Could he tell what she was thinking, she wondered as a sliver of panic skipped up her spine.

  Maybe it wasn’t too late to nip this in the bud. Quickly, she tried to list the minuses in her mind—all the reasons why Zach McDaniels was the last person in the world she should be in love with. Topping the list was a biggie.

  He was not in love with her.

  Oh, he might want to have sex with her, but it ended there. She tried to concentrate on this one inescapable fact, but the feelings swirling within her told her that she was sinking fast. That first spurt of panic had given way to something else—something that made her want to go into a spin on the ice that she might not come out of. It made her want to shout and even start singing.

  That would clear the rink, she thought with a quick glance around. On the other hand, it would leave her alone with Zach. In her mind, she pictured them alone on the ice, skating toward each other, the music swelling.

  The only thing wrong with the picture in her mind was that Zach wouldn’t hang around very long—especially if she told him she was falling in love with him.

  “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re one smooth operator.”

  Chelsea tore her gaze from Zach to find Hal Davidson, the political editor from Metropolitan, standing next to her on the ice. “What are you doing here?”

  Hal waved a hand at his skates. “Same as you. The rink’s open to the public. I just didn’t think to invite the boss.”

  Chelsea studied him for a moment. His smile seemed genuine, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I didn’t invite him,” she said. “And it’s not what you think. I’m doing research for my next article and Mr. McDaniels insisted on coming along.”

  “Mr. McDaniels? Surely, you’re on a first-name basis with him by now—someone who works as quickly as you do.”

  In spite of the fact that she was in a public place and perfectly safe, Chelsea felt a sliver of anxiety skip up her spine. It didn’t help one bit that Zach was still surrounded by the Cub Scout moms or that she couldn’t see any sign of Sam Romano.

  “He’s usually more careful and more selective about the women he lets himself get involved with.”

  Chelsea could feel the heat flooding her cheeks, but she managed to keep her voice even. “Since we both came here to skate, I think that’s what we should do.”

  He took her arm as she pushed past him, and he turned up the wattage on his smile. “Look, I didn’t mean to insult you. We’re two of a kind, you and me. Confidentially, I’m impressed that you convinced McDaniels to honor your contract. And getting yourself on Good Morning, New York was a brilliant move. At least I thou
ght it was until yesterday afternoon. But it’s backfired.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Hal frowned. “McDaniels didn’t tell you about the bad news we got at the staff meeting yesterday? Three longtime advertisers have canceled their accounts with Metropolitan, and they cited your articles as the reason they’re leaving. They don’t approve of the direction the magazine is obviously going in. By Tuesday, other advertisers will be stumbling over each other trying to jump ship. It’s only a matter of time—a very short amount of time—until your boss and perhaps the magazine will be history.”

  Chelsea lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Hal’s grip on her arm tightened. “Oh, but I am. And if you’re smart, you’ll count on it too. I have an offer from New York Now, and they want you, too. I told them I could get you. McDaniels should be more than happy to release you from your contract now that he knows those articles are going to be the cause of Metropolitan’s demise. Think about it. You’ll be in a much better bargaining position if you go to them before you’re fired by the new editor-in-chief.”

  Before she could reply, Hal had turned and disappeared smoothly into the throng of skaters now circling the rink.

  “Are you all right?”

  This time Chelsea was surprised and relieved to find Sam at her elbow. “I’m fine. Better now that you’re here. But I thought your plan was to stay off the ice.”

  “That changed once you got separated from McDaniels. That guy who just left—who was he?”

  “Hal Davidson. He’s the political editor at Metropolitan.”

  “Quite a coincidence that he’d turn up skating today, don’t you think?” As Sam spoke, she followed Hal’s progress as he left the rink and made his way to a bench.

  “I don’t think it was a coincidence at all.” By the time she’d filled in Sam on the offer Hal had made her, Sam was on his cell phone, giving curt orders to someone. “Yeah, I want you to tail him. Let me know where he goes. And call the office, see what we’ve turned up on him so far.”