Seduced by Moonlight (17 page)

When Harry drew the curtain aside and strode in and she saw his deeply furrowed brow she gave a short laugh. “Stop worrying about me, Harry. I'm fine. This isn't exactly my idea of a romantic weekend, though. And I hope Slowpoke didn't come to any harm, poor baby. He must have really been spooked to take off like that!”

Harry grabbed a tall stool that was sitting in the corner of the room and set it next to Cherisse's exam table. After sitting, he grasped her hand in his. “I'm sure Slowpoke knows the way home. How're you feeling?”

“I'll be sore in the morning, but I'm doing okay right now. My back and my ankle are a little sore but otherwise I feel fine.”

“No one has examined you yet?” asked Harry, turning to glance at the entrance to the cubicle. “Maybe I ought to go light a fire under somebody.”

Cherisse held on tightly to him. “See that?” she said, indicating her ability to hold on to him with such strength. “That means I don't have any nerve damage, which speaks well to my not having any damage to my spine. A nurse has been in. I'm waiting on the doctor. Stay with me, Harry, and tell me how gorgeous I am.”

Harry laughed softly. Her hair was damp from melted snow but, resilient hair that it was, it hadn't lost its waves. But somewhere between the ranch and here she'd lost the black tie she'd used to put it in a ponytail. It was a loose halo about her head on the pillow now. He gently ran a finger along her jawline. “You're breathtaking.”

“She's definitely a sight for sore eyes,” said a male voice from the open curtain.

A dark-skinned man in his early thirties with black hair and brown eyes came into the exam room and shoved his hand into Harry's. “Dr. Mehta,” he said in a British accented voice. “When they told me there was a black woman in exam room three I didn't believe them. I've been here for two years and I've never seen anyone who looks like me. I'm from India.” He smiled, showing perfect white teeth in his brown face. “Hello, Ms. Washington.”

Cherisse didn't know what to think about this gleeful human being's delight at seeing her and Harry. Shouldn't he be examining her? “Dr. Mehta,” she acknowledged.

After his introduction he immediately dropped Harry's hand and turned his attention to Cherisse. “Fell off a horse, did you?” He examined her eyes with a penlight. “Looks good. How does your head feel?”

“No pain. I think my new Stetson protected it when I fell.”

“Love those Stetsons,” said Dr. Mehta cheerfully. “Although I recommend a helmet the next time you go riding.”

“There won't be a next time,” Harry said.

“Now, now, one must get back on the horse,” admonished the good doctor. “Isn't that the old saying?” He put on his stethoscope. “Deep breaths, please, Ms. Washington.”

Cherisse breathed deeply while he listened to her lungs and then her heart. She knew to remain silent while he was listening but as soon as he finished, she said, “Is it true, I'm the only black patient you've seen since you've been here?”

“Oh, yes, the population of black and brown people is practically zero in this area.”

“Well, what kind of reception have you gotten?” Harry asked.

“Mostly the people are perfectly nice,” said Dr. Mehta. “Although there was the incident of someone writing the ‘N' word on my car with spray paint. And I haven't been able to get a date since I've been here.”

Cherisse didn't know why that should be. He was a good-looking guy. Kind of reminded her of a Bollywood actor.

“I suppose Montana is still very remote,” Cherisse said. “It shouldn't be surprising that this area is predominately white, but I thought that at least ten percent of the people would be of other races.”

Dr. Mehta laughed. “Yes, that's what I thought before coming here. America as a melting pot, you know? Then I got here and learned I was the only black bean in the pot.”

“Gave you a shock, huh?” said Harry, warming up to the guy even though he was spending an inordinate amount of time holding Cherisse's hand when he wasn't even taking her pulse.

“I'm still in shock. I sometimes fly to New York City on weekends, where I have friends and relatives, just to get my perspective back.” He once again gave all of his attention to his patient. “You complained about your right ankle hurting, as well?”

“Yes,” said Cherisse.

Dr. Mehta went to the end of the examination table and gingerly removed Cherisse's boot and sock and then ran his hand all over her foot, gently twisting it this way and that way, making sure her ankle had normal range of motion. “Nothing's broken,” he said after a few minutes of this. “But I do believe you have a minor sprain. I'll wrap in for you and prescribe a mild painkiller, unless you've got extra-strength Tylenol at home.”

“I always carry a bottle in my purse,” Cherisse said.

“Then you can use that,” said Dr. Mehta. “When you get home, take a long hot bath, really soak. It may ward off some of the soreness you're going to have tomorrow, it may not. But it won't hurt. If you suddenly start having double vision, nausea, or a headache that won't go away, come back and see me. Your injuries may be more serious than I'm judging they are right now. But I truly don't believe you have anything to worry about.”

The doctor was still holding Cherisse's foot in his hand as he delivered his diagnosis.

Harry cleared his throat. “You said something about wrapping her ankle.”

“Ah, yes,” said Dr. Mehta, smiling foolishly at Cherisse and gently putting her foot down on the exam table. Humming, he went to the supply cabinet located next to the sink in the nine-by-nine-foot room.

After he had all the supplies—Ace bandages, scissors and the metal clamps that would hold the Ace bandage together once he had it wrapped around Cherisse's ankle—he returned and began applying the bandage.

Harry stood aside with his arms akimbo, not cracking a smile. Cherisse turned her head to smile at him while Dr. Mehta was humming and wrapping her ankle.

Harry smiled back and his heart thudded in his chest. He blamed himself. He should never have let her get on that horse. Sure, she had insisted, saying that even though it had been years since she'd been on a horse, she wasn't a novice and was looking forward to the trail ride. Still, he should have shown more circumspection. It was okay to risk his own neck on a strange animal, but not hers!

When Dr. Mehta finished wrapping Cherisse's ankle he asked her to get off the table. He wanted to know if her ankle hurt when she put weight on it.

She did, and it did.

Harry saw her wince in pain, and yet, heard her say, “It's not so bad,” as she hobbled around the exam room.

Dr. Mehta had obviously not been convinced, either, because he said, “What are you, a martyr? Sit down. And you're not walking out of here. You will get into a wheelchair. So don't give the nurse any problems when she comes for you. Stay off that ankle for at least twenty-four hours. Let your husband carry you. He's a big guy.” With this he smiled nervously at Harry.

Harry picked Cherisse up and put her back on the exam table. “You heard the doctor.” Then he offered Dr. Mehta his hand. “Thanks, Doctor.”

Dr. Mehta heartily shook Harry's hand. Then he smiled at Cherisse. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Washington.”

“And you, as well, Doctor,” said Cherisse with a warm smile.

Dr. Mehta blushed and beat a hasty retreat.

In his absence, Harry said, “Now that you're done flirting with the doctor I want to say how sorry I am that I let you get on that horse.”

Cherisse was in the process of trying to put her sock back on, but stopped to stare at Harry. Harry stepped forward and took over putting the sock on while she found the appropriate words with which to lash out at him, he was sure. Her lovely eyes were narrowed to slits, and she was breathing erratically, all signs she was irritated with him.

After Harry had put the sock on he gestured to her foot with the boot. “The sock was hard enough to get back on, forget the boot,” she said. Then, she grabbed him and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. Harry thoroughly enjoyed that kiss.

That is until Cherisse pushed him away and said, “Harry Payne, you didn't
let
me get on Slowpoke, it was my choice! I've been taking responsibility for my own actions for quite some time now.”

Harry started to say something and Cherisse cut him off with, “I don't want to hear anything else on the subject. My accident was my fault, not yours. I'm sure if I'd remembered what I'd been taught about controlling a spooked horse this never would have happened, but I panicked, Slowpoke panicked and here I am.” She laughed. “I think they ought to rename him. Call him Speedy Gonzales or something more appropriate.”

Shaking his head at her resilience, Harry laughed. He thought
she
ought to be renamed, something like Mrs. Harry Payne. He could get used to that. Of course, it was much too early to declare his love for her. Although love her, he did. He knew it with a clarity and a certainly that blew his mind. He was a man who did not believe in love at first sight, or second sight, or third, but he had known this woman would bring something special into his life the night he'd met her. At first he'd chalked it up to the moonlight and the fact that upon meeting Cheri he had been disappointed in Marcia.

A man would always grasp at the kindness of the next woman who came along when the present woman in his life mistreated him or proved herself inconsistent with his image of her. He thought that was why he considered Cheri his moonlight angel.

However when he had seen her again a week later, he had had to throw that theory out. She was in reality more wonderful than the imaginary moonlight angel because, really, he had had to attribute imagined personality traits to his angel. The real woman came with her own set of personality traits. Traits he had found extremely enticing.

Now, after learning more about her he knew he could spend the rest of his life getting to know her and would never learn enough. Isn't that what a marriage was, continually discovering your mate, day by day, year by year?

How long did it take to choose a mate? Harry was a pragmatist. He made business decisions based on possibilities. It was always a gamble. He might have crashed when he'd invested in Karibu nearly six years ago. But he'd taken the risk and the resort was a resounding success. So much so that he was able to consider buying another property.

Not that loving Cherisse had anything to do with business. The woman, most of all, made him itch in a profoundly sexual way. Okay, so he had known many women who turned him on, just not to this extent. It was as if the two of them were meant to be, that's how strong the attraction was. He could no more ignore it than he could ignore the fact that his hands were attached to his wrists. It just
was
.

Was he excited by this revelation? Yes! Would he let Cherisse in on it? Not anytime soon. She was a woman who took things by degrees. She was swept off her feet by Charlie Washington when she was eighteen. Would she ever let herself be swept off her feet again by any man, no matter how charming? Not hardly.

Harry had to bide his time.

He laughed when Cherisse suddenly shook him and cried, “Harry, why are you staring at me like that?”

“I just think you're the cutest invalid I've ever seen,” Harry told her, and kissed her forehead.

A nurse, a petite brunette in her late forties, interrupted whatever response Cherisse had on her tongue. She bustled into the exam room pushing a wheelchair and talking rapidly. “Your chariot awaits, my dear. Dr. Mehta told me to take good care of you.”

“Allow me,” Harry said and effortlessly lifted Cherisse and put her into the wheelchair.

“My, he's handy to have around, isn't he?” said the nurse with a flirtatious wink at Harry. Cherisse smiled up at her. “He's good to look at, too.”

Harry walked behind them, Cherisse's boot grasped in his hand, a smile on his lips and a bounce in his step. Now he knew what his happily married buddies knew. You can love one woman forever. Love her, and revel in it.

“What's your opinion of the property so far?” Cherisse asked Harry on the drive back to Ponderosa Pines Ranch. She was wondering if he were thinking the same thing she was—that no matter how wonderful the resort was it wouldn't matter if blacks felt unwelcome in the area.

Harry briefly smiled at her before returning his attention to the road. “I like it. But I don't know if I want a resort that's this remote. The guests I've come to know like to explore the surrounding area. I don't know if I want to integrate this area. I'm a businessman, not a civil rights leader. I know that may sound selfish but that's how I feel.”

“It doesn't sound selfish, Harry. It sounds reasonable. This is 2008 for goodness' sake. I'm also tired of fighting battles with ignorant people. There are other properties around the world where the racial climate is friendlier. On the other hand, you can't base your opinion on one man's comments.”