Moonstruck in Manhattan Read online

  “You don’t think that Hal could be behind everything that’s happened, do you?” Chelsea asked.

  “I don’t think anything yet,” Sam said, pocketing his phone. “I learned a long time ago not to jump to any conclusions until all the evidence is in. Speaking of that, I’d like to get you off this rink. You must have gathered all the data you need here.”

  “So far, with all the interruptions, I’ve gotten squat.”

  Sam grinned at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. Men have been hitting on you since you first got on the ice. First you’ve got the twirling dervish guy spinning into the railing trying to impress you. Then comes the attack of the Cub Scouts.”

  Chelsea shook her head. “They’re just kids. They saw me on TV yesterday and were fascinated because they think the skirt has special powers. Kids that age are into that kind of Merlin and magic stuff.”

  Sam threw back his head and laughed. “Sniffing lady’s skirts is something guys are into at pretty much any age. From where I was standing, they had some of the smoothest moves I’ve seen.”

  Chelsea stared at him. “I never thought about it that way. Maybe I could use it—” She broke off when she saw Zach push his way past his last fan and start toward them. When he started to wobble almost immediately, Chelsea frowned. “He can’t skate.”

  “Yeah. That’s another reason I decided to join you on the ice,” Sam said.

  “Why on earth didn’t he just say so? Why did he insist on coming out here with me?”

  Sam shot her a glance. “The guy’s batty over you.”

  Chelsea shook her head firmly. “No, he’s not.”

  “Believe me, I saw it happen to my old partner. I know the signs. One of them is you start doing crazy—”

  Chelsea never heard the rest of Sam’s sentence because she had to get to Zach. Reaching him, she grabbed one of his flailing arms and drew it across her shoulders. “What were you thinking coming out here on the ice? You don’t know how to skate.”

  “I do, too. My mother taught me right here on this rink. It’s not something you forget. It’s like riding a bike or typing.”

  Chelsea turned to him then. “How old were you when you learned?”

  “Five. What difference does that make? I learned. I know how to skate. I’m just a little rusty.”

  “If you were only five, I’ll bet your skates had double runners on them. That’s why you’re having trouble.”

  “What was Hal Davidson talking to you about?” Zach asked.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Chelsea said. “I’ll tell you all about it while I give you a skating lesson.”

  “I don’t need—” Zach began.

  “It won’t take any time at all. I started skating on runners, too. You just have to make a little transition to single blade skates.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged him along. “Push off with your left foot, glide with your right. Then push with your right foot and glide with your left. That’s it.”

  As they completed one full turn around the rink, she filled him in on Hal’s offer and he wasn’t even thinking about skating or what he was doing with his feet. He was just doing it.

  “You’ve got it,” she said. The words were barely out of her mouth when someone smacked into them. She held tight to Zach as the impact sent them both hurtling across the ice. Swerving to avoid other skaters, she was still struggling to keep them both balanced when someone slammed into them again. This time her skates flew out from under her. Her back hit the ice first, then her head. For a moment she lay staring upward watching stars mix with the whirl of snowflakes.

  A shout had her rolling over and scrambling to her knees. She saw Sam lying on top of someone on the ice. And Zach was down, too. She could see him, sprawled on the ice, one arm outstretched. Not moving.

  For a moment, her heart stopped and she couldn’t move either.

  Then he stirred, rolling over and levering himself up. She’d started to crawl toward him, had almost closed the distance, when she saw the blood staining the ice.

  ZACH THREW his legs over the side of the hospital gurney the moment the doctor stepped out of the room. It had been four hours since they’d arrived at the hospital—four hours since he’d seen Chelsea. They’d wheeled her away first since she’d whacked her head against the ice. His sliced arm had been less of a priority once the bleeding had been stopped.

  It was some consolation that the man who’d knifed him was in police custody. Sam had been in contact with the precinct where the man was being held. All he’d been able to find out so far was that the guy had a record. That was when the nurse had shooed Sam out of the room so the doctor could stitch Zach’s arm. Dropping to the floor, Zach put his good arm on the gurney to steady himself. He was halfway to the door when the pretty Asian doctor blocked his escape with a wheelchair.

  “You can’t leave without your limo,” she said, waving her hand toward the chair.

  If she’d been a man, he could have handled her. But the tiny woman in front of him had bullied and finally bribed him into getting his arm stitched up, so he did not underestimate his opponent. “What did you find out about Chelsea Brockway?”

  Her brows shot up. “She’s a much better patient than you are.”

  Zach clamped down on a spurt of temper, only because he was sure it would only delay his escape. Instead, he managed a smile while he glanced at her name tag. Iris Tong. “Dr. Tong. Iris. We had a deal. You got to practice your needlework on my arm and now I intend to find out where you’ve taken Ms. Brockway.” In his attempt to move past her, his elbow brushed the back of the wheelchair and in spite of the anesthetic, pain shot to his shoulder.

  The doctor stepped into his path. “Her X rays showed no sign of a concussion. Ms. Brockway is fine. But you won’t be if that arm starts bleeding again.”

  “I want to see her.” He started past her again, but she grabbed his good arm.

  “If you want to see your Ms. Brockway, get in the chair.”

  He hesitated.

  “I can get you to her faster in the chair because I know where she is. You don’t.”

  He looked at her, almost amused. “You have a lousy bedside manner.”

  “Yeah.” She grinned at him at he settled himself in the chair. “But my patients do what I tell them because I figure out their weak spots. And yours is Ms. Brockway. You’re crazy in love with her.”

  Zach said nothing as she wheeled him down the short hallway. He didn’t even speak to Sam when they rolled past him at the nurse’s station. All he could think of was that he couldn’t be in love with Chelsea. Attraction was one thing—but love? Fear bubbled up. No. It was impossible.

  “I’ll bet you even smell flowers when there’s none around,” Dr. Tong said.

  “How did you…?”

  “I’m a very good doctor.”

  Zach scanned the waiting room. It took him a moment to spot Chelsea because she was surrounded by men. In some part of his mind he recognized Ramón standing behind her and he registered that two of the others wore green scrubs. But his attention was riveted on the man kneeling on the floor with his head up her skirt! Zach was out of the wheelchair and across the waiting room in two quick strides.

  “There,” the headless man began. “I think that should—”

  Zach grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and jerked.

  “Zach!” Chelsea blocked his raised fist at the same time that Sam wrapped his arms around his waist from behind.

  He was about to shake both of them off when the red mist in front of his eyes cleared enough for him to recognize Daryl and to see that Chelsea had moved in front of her roommate.

  “Peace.” Daryl plucked a white handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it around Chelsea’s shoulder. “I was just doing some damage control with the skirt.”

  “To hell with the skirt. I wish I’d never seen it,” Zach said, then winced as he tried to wrap his bad arm around Chelsea. “You’re all right?”

  “I’m fine. But your arm’s
not.” She turned to the doctor. “Is it?”

  “It should be fine if he can control his impulse to punch people out,” Dr. Tong said with a smile. Then she signaled for the two men in scrubs to follow her.

  Keeping his good arm around Chelsea, Zach turned to Sam. “Have you learned anything more about the man who knifed me?”

  Sam glanced at Daryl and Ramón.

  “You can talk in front of them,” Zach said.

  “The knifer’s done it before. One of the detectives on the case thinks he may have been hired.”

  “That settles it.” Zach turned to Chelsea. “We’re going back to my apartment and you’re going to take off that skirt for good.”

  “I can’t. I’m wearing it to your aunt’s ball tonight.”

  “You’re not going.”

  “Of course, I’m going. You’re the one who should stay home.”

  Zach drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t going to win this argument by shouting. “I can’t protect you. I thought I could, but I can’t.” Even as he spoke, he thought of that moment when he’d seen the blood staining the ice and thought it was Chelsea’s. Shoving down the panic that was bubbling up all over again, he said, “I won’t allow you—the magazine can’t allow you to put your life in danger for the sake of a foolish article.”

  Chelsea stepped back from him. The hurt and anger he saw in her eyes sliced through him, but he didn’t reach for her. The only thing he could allow himself to think of was keeping her safe.

  “It’s my life and my foolish article,” she said. “I’m not the one who was knifed.”

  But you could have been. It was the image that had been flashing through his mind since they’d left the ice rink. He hadn’t been able to stop it.

  “The skirt articles are over. Metropolitan won’t be running the last two.”

  Chelsea’s chin shot up. “Fine.”

  “You’ll stay at my apartment tonight. Sam will be able to protect you there.”

  “No,” Chelsea said, taking another step back from him. “I won’t be staying at your apartment.”

  “Chels—” But when he reached for her, she stepped even further away.

  “The super got in touch with Daryl and Ramón. The apartment door’s been fixed and a security system has been installed. I’m going with them.”

  When she turned to walk away, Zach managed to keep from reaching out to her. Instead, he said to Sam. “Take care of her.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He grabbed Sam’s arm as the man moved past him. “She’s mine.”

  Sam grinned. “Yeah. I can tell. You’re acting like a total jerk. That’s a sure sign you’re crazy about her.”

  12

  FANTASY. GLITZ. GLAMOUR. It was everywhere that Chelsea looked. Miranda had worked a miracle, transforming the top floor of the Miramar Hotel into a true Christmas wonderland. Twinkling lights cascaded from the ceiling, and flowers were everywhere, banking the food and drink stations and lining the walls of windows that offered breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline. It was a treat for the senses—the scent of food mingling with flowers, candlelight gleaming off crystal and silver, violin music mixing with the sound of laughter.

  And Chelsea was absolutely miserable. Zach was furious with her. He hadn’t spoken to her once since she’d arrived at the ball with Daryl as her date.

  Even now, he was seated across from her at Miranda’s table just as far away as he could get.

  Of course, he’d been talking to board members. She’d been busy, too. Her feet hurt from dancing with all the men Miranda had introduced her to. She’d even managed a dance with Sam Romano. He’d assured her that every possible precaution was being taken to protect Zach. But not even his reassurance had melted the tight fist of fear that had settled in her stomach ever since she’d seen Zach’s blood on the ice. If the knifer’s aim had been just a bit more accurate…

  No, she wasn’t going to dwell on that. But did Zach think that while his life was in danger, she was just going to sit at his apartment and wait? Not bloody likely! Not when she could keep an eye on him herself.

  When she realized she was looking at Zach again, she tried to look away and couldn’t. Thousands of little champagne bubbles bumped against her heart. He was so reserved, so aloof, so controlled. The complete opposite of her. She could probably stare at him all evening like some lovesick puppy and he wouldn’t so much as glance her way. If she made the first move and approached him he might merely ignore her and walk away.

  Tearing her gaze away from him, she tried to gather her thoughts. She’d come here to gather data for her article and that’s what she was going to do. Miranda had been so helpful, introducing her to several celebrities, including a rap star who’d not only complimented her on her dress, but had even asked her to dance. She could already imagine how she was going to write that up.

  She’d danced with James McCarthy, the host of Good Morning, New York. He’d been very sweet, thanking her again for appearing on his show and raving about the spike in his ratings. He’d even very thoughtfully straightened the strap that had become twisted on her shoulder and offered to escort her out on one of the balconies for a breath of fresh air. They’d been stepping through the French doors when Miranda had interrupted and dragged her away.

  The skirt was clearly a success. Daryl had outdone himself. The black sequined top he’d designed had thin straps over the shoulders and fit snugly to the waist. But the real miracle he’d worked had been on the skirt itself. Somehow, with tape, staples and a little bit of smoke and mirrors, he’d fixed it so that it looked like it had been made to go with the top.

  When Miranda had introduced her to three of the board members’ wives, they’d asked for the name of her designer. Luckily, she’d been able to introduce them to Daryl. Because he was her date, not Zach.

  She pressed a hand against her heart just as the champagne bubbles bombarded it again.

  “Your boss is looking daggers at me, too,” Daryl complained in a low tone as he pantomimed pulling one out of his arm and tossed it on the floor.

  “I don’t want to talk about him,” she said.

  Miranda leaned close to Chelsea. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. Zach is clearly taken with you.”

  “He likes me about as much as he likes poison ivy.”

  “You didn’t see his face when James McCarthy was fiddling with your dress. I won’t tell you what he threatened to do if I didn’t drag you away from him. He rarely lets a woman—or anyone else for that matter—get under his skin. And you got him to go skating at Rockefeller Center. He hasn’t skated since he was five.”

  “Why not? He really does know how,” Chelsea said. “He just needed to get the feel of doing it on a single blade.”

  Miranda looked at her. “He didn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “He was skating with his mother on Christmas Eve when she collapsed. They rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. Her heart had always been weak. The doctors had warned her not to have children. I think deep down my brother blamed Zach for Mary’s death.”

  Chelsea couldn’t prevent herself from looking at Zach then. She didn’t see the man who’d rejected her that afternoon. Nor did she see the cool, aloof man who was ignoring her now. Instead, she saw the little boy who’d been skating when he’d lost his mother.

  And yet, he’d gone with her onto the ice. Hope was blooming in her heart when his gaze met hers. Cold, blue ice was what she saw. It nearly made her teeth chatter. It definitely made her spine stiffen.

  “I’d like to dance with someone,” she said.

  “At your service,” Daryl said.

  “No offense, Daryl, but we’ve established that the skirt doesn’t work on you. I need to do my job and finish gathering data.”

  Miranda scanned the dance floor. “Let’s see if we can kill two birds with one stone. Ah,” she said, rising and drawing Chelsea with her. “I have just the person. Have you met Zach’s bro
ther?”

  “Briefly,” Chelsea said. “Our meeting didn’t go well.”

  Miranda took her arm and urged her toward the dance floor. “We have him at a disadvantage now. He’s in public and he can’t afford a scene.”

  “He’s still not going to want to dance with me.”

  Miranda shot her a grin. “Let’s see if the skirt can take on a challenge, shall we?”

  ZACH WANTED to throttle her. He wanted to grab her and drag her away to safety. But he couldn’t go near her. Keeping his distance was the only way he could keep her safe. It was the only strategy that he and Sam could come up with once Daryl had called to warn them that Chelsea was determined to come to the ball and that he was coming with her. Of course, Zach should have expected it. Why had he thought even for a moment that she would do the sensible thing and stay home where she would be safe? He owed Daryl for offering to escort her.

  Unclenching his hands, Zach rose from the table and moved toward one of the drink stations so that he could keep Chelsea in sight. It would have been easier if they were any closer to figuring out who was behind the threats, but they weren’t. So far all Sam had been able to come up with was that the police had eliminated Boyd Carter because he had been out of the country skiing for two weeks.

  That left Jerry at the head of the suspect list.

  As he ordered a drink, he scanned the room and saw that he wasn’t the only one who had moved closer to Chelsea. Both Daryl and Sam had shifted to spots near the edge of the dance floor.

  Taking the drink from the bartender, Zach nearly let it slip through his fingers as his aunt tapped his brother on the shoulder. He’d taken two steps toward the dance floor before Daryl stepped into his path. “I have two messages. But I want to make sure you’re not going to kill the messenger.”

  “Go ahead,” Zach said.

  “Miranda wants Chelsea to work a little magic on your brother and I’ll cut in at the first sign of any trouble.”

  Zach studied him for a moment. “I want to thank you for bringing her tonight.”

  “No problem. After seeing the apartment, I wouldn’t have let her come alone. Ramón couldn’t possibly get away from the restaurant or he’d be here, too.”