Sunset In Central Park (29 page)

I’m grateful to all my wonderful readers. So many of you take time to email and chat to me on Facebook, and your kind comments and supportive messages always make my day. To those of you who take the time to leave reviews and post about my books on social media—thank you a million times. It really helps! To all the wonderful bloggers who are always so kind, enthusiastic and vocal about my books, I’m so grateful for your time, energy and support.

Seeing my books on sale around the world is a dream come true for me, made real by the team at Harlequin, who has always encouraged me to write whatever story excited me. I’m fortunate to have such fantastic support from my publisher.

I definitely struck lucky the day I was given Flo Nicoll as my editor. Working with her is such fun, and I’m thankful for the vision, patience and enthusiasm she displays as we work together on each book.

I’m grateful to my agent, Susan Ginsburg, and the team at Writers House for everything they do.

I have the best family in the world and I’m continually grateful for their unwavering support. You’re the best!

Hopeless romantic Eva Jordan loves everything about Christmas. She might be spending the holidays alone this year, but when she’s given an opportunity to house-sit a spectacular penthouse on Fifth Avenue she leaps at the chance. What better place to celebrate than in snow-kissed Manhattan? What she doesn’t expect is to find the penthouse still occupied by its gorgeous—and mysterious
—
owner
…

Read on for an extract from MIRACLE ON 5
^TH
AVENUE by Sarah Morgan’s

E
va held her breath and then heard another noise—this one definitely inside the apartment. It sounded like a footstep. A stealthy footstep … as if the owner didn’t want to reveal himself.

She glanced up and saw something move in the shadows up above her.

Fear was sharp and paralyzing.

She’d interrupted a break-in. The hows and whys didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of here.

The door seemed a long way in the distance.

Could she make it?

Her heart was racing and her palms had turned sweaty.

She wished now that she hadn’t removed her shoes.

She made for the door and at the same time grabbed her phone from her pocket. Her hand was shaking so much she almost dropped it.

She hit the emergency button, heard a woman say, “911 Emergency,” and tried to whisper into the phone.

“Help. There’s someone in the apartment.”

“You’ll have to speak up, ma’am.”

The door was there.
Right there.

‘There’s someone in the apartment.’ She needed to get downstairs to the doorman—Albert. He’d—

A hand clamped over her mouth and before Eva could utter a squeak she’d landed on her back on the floor, crushed by the hard weight of a powerful male body.

The man pinned her. One of his hands was still across her mouth and the other gripped her wrists with brutal strength.

Holy crap.

If she could have screamed she would have done, but she couldn’t open her mouth.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe—although, bizarrely, her senses were still sufficiently alert for her to realize that her attacker smelled
really
good.

It was an irony that finally, after almost two years of dreaming and hoping, she was finally horizontal with a man. It was a shame he was trying to kill her.

A shame and a tragic waste.

Was that really going to be her last thought? Clearly the mind was capable of strange things in the last moment before it was robbed of oxygen. And, having written her eulogy, she was going to die—right here in the dark, in this empty apartment, three weeks before Christmas, flattened by this gloriously smelling hunk of solid muscle. If Lucas Blade, the owner of the apartment, decided to postpone his
return her body might not be found for weeks. They were in the middle of a snowstorm—or a “winter weather emergency” as it was officially called.

The thought rallied her.

No!
She didn’t want to die without saying goodbye to her friends. She’d found Paige and Frankie perfect Christmas gifts and she hadn’t told anyone where they were hidden. And her apartment was a total mess. She’d been meaning to tidy up for ages, but hadn’t quite found the time. What if the police wanted to look through her things for clues? Most of her possessions were strewn across the floor. It would be horribly embarrassing. But most of all she didn’t want to miss enjoying New York City at Christmas, and she didn’t want to die without having amazing, mind-blowing sex at least once in her life.

She didn’t want this to be her last experience of having a man on top of her.

She wanted to
live.

With a huge effort she tried to head-butt the man, but he took evasive action. She heard the rasp of his breath, caught a glimpse of jet-black hair and fierce, smoldering eyes—and then there was a hammering on the door and shouts from the police.

Relief weakened her limbs.

They must have traced the call.

She sent silent thanks and heard her attacker curse softly moments before the police burst into the apartment—followed by Albert.

There were no words for how much Eva loved Albert at that moment.

“NYPD—freeze!”

The apartment was flooded with light and the man crushing her finally relieved her of his weight.

Sucking air into her starving lungs, Eva screwed up her eyes against the lights and felt the man wrench the hat off her head. Her hair, released from the confines of wool and warmth, unraveled itself and tumbled over her shoulders.

For a brief moment her gaze collided with his and she saw shock and disbelief.

“You’re a woman.”

He had a deep, sexy voice. Sexy voice, sexy body—shame about his criminal lifestyle.

“I am. Or at least I was. Right now I’m not sure I’m alive.” Eva lay there, stunned, gingerly testing various parts of her body to check they were still attached.

The man sprang to his feet in a lithe, fluid movement and she saw the expression on the police officer’s face change.

“
Lucas?
” There was shock on his face. “We had no idea you were here. We had a call from an unknown female, reporting an intruder.”

Lucas? Her attacker was Lucas Blade? He wasn’t a criminal. He was the owner of the apartment.

She took her first good look at him and realized that he did look familiar. She’d seen his face on book covers. And it was a memorable face. She studied the slash of his cheekbones and the bold sweep of his nose. His hair and his eyes were dark. He looked as good as he smelled, and as for his body … She didn’t need to study the width of his shoulders or the power of those muscles to know how strong he was. She’d been pinned to the ground under the solid weight of him, so she already knew all there was to know about
that.

Remembering triggered a fluttery feeling in her tummy.

What was
wrong
with her?

This man had half killed her and she was having sexy thoughts.

Which was yet more evidence that she’d gone far too long without sex. She was
definitely
going to fix that this Christmas.

In the meantime, she dragged her gaze away from the magnetic pull of his and tried to be practical.

What was he doing in the apartment? He wasn’t supposed to be home.

“
She’s
the intruder.”

His expression was grim, and Eva realized that everyone was glaring at her. Everyone except Albert, who looked as confused as she felt.

“I’m not an intruder. I was told the apartment was empty.” The injustice of it stung. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“And how would you know that? Do you research which apartments are empty at Christmas?” He might be sexy, but he didn’t give away smiles lightly.

Eva wondered how she’d suddenly turned into the bad guy. “Of course not. I was asked to do this.”

“You had an accomplice?”

“If I were an intruder, would I have dialed 911?”

“Why not? Once you realized there was someone home it would have been the perfect way of appearing innocent.”

“I
am
innocent.” Eva looked at him in disbelief. “Your mind is a strange, twisted thing.”

She glanced at the police officer for support, but found none.

“On your feet.”

His tone was cold and brusque and Eva eased her bruised, crushed body into a sitting position.

“That’s easier said than done. I have at least four hundred broken bones.”

Lucas reached down and hauled her upright. “The human body does not
have
four hundred bones.”

“It does when most of them have been snapped in half.”

His strength shouldn’t have surprised her, given that he’d already crushed her to the ground under his body.

“Why is everyone glaring at
me
? Instead of interrogating me about breaking and entering, they should be arresting
you
for assault. What are you doing here, anyway? You’re supposed to be in Vermont—not skulking here.”

“I own the apartment. A person can’t ‘skulk’ in their own apartment.” His brows came together in a fierce frown. “How did you know I was supposed to be in Vermont?”

“Your grandmother told me.” Eva tested her ankle gingerly. “And you were definitely skulking. Creeping around in the dark.”

“
You
were the one creeping around in the dark.”

“I was admiring the snow. I’m a romantic. As far as I know that isn’t a crime.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” The officer stepped forward. “We’ll take her down to the precinct, Lucas.”

“Wait—” Lucas barely moved his hand, but it was enough to stop the man in his tracks. “Did you say my
grandmother
told you I was in Vermont?”

“That’s right, Mr. Blade.” Albert intervened. “This is Eva, and she’s here at the request of your grandmother. I verified it myself. None of us knew you were in residence.”

There was a faint hint of reproach in his voice. Lucas ignored it.

“You
know
my grandmother?”

“I do. She employed me.”

“To do what, exactly?”

His eyes had darkened. It was like looking at a threatening sky before a very,
very
bad storm.

His grandmother had told her many things about her grandson Lucas. She’d mentioned that he was an expert skier, that he had once spent a year living in a cabin in the Arctic, that he was fluent in French, Italian and Russian, was skilled in at least four different forms of martial arts and that he never showed anyone his books until they were finished.

She’d failed to mention that he could be intimidating.

“She employed me to prepare your apartment for Christmas.”

“And …?”

“And what? That’s it. What other reason could there have been?” She saw the sardonic gleam in his eyes. “Are you suggesting I broke in here so that I could meet
you
?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Women
do
that?” Outrage mingled with fascination. Even she couldn’t imagine ever going to those lengths to find a man. “How exactly does that work? Once they get inside they leap on you and pin you down?”

“You tell me.” He folded his arms and looked at her expectantly. “What plan did you cook up with my grandmother?”

She laughed—and then realized he wasn’t joking.

“I’m good in the kitchen, but even
I
have never managed to ‘cook up’ a romance. I wonder what the recipe would be? One cup of hope mixed with a pinch of delusion?” She tilted her head to one side. “Not that I’m not one of those women who thinks a guy has to make the first move, or anything,
but I’ve never gone as far as breaking into a man’s apartment to get their attention. Do I
look
desperate, Mr. Blade?”

In fact she
was
pretty desperate, but he had no way of knowing that unless he searched her purse and found her single lonely condom. She had hoped to give it a spectacular end to its so far uneventful life, but that was looking increasingly unlikely.

“Desperation wears many faces.”

“If I
were
to break into a man’s apartment with the intention of seducing him, do you really think I’d do it while wearing snow boots and a chunky sweater? I’m starting to understand why you need such a large apartment, even though there’s only one of you. Your ego must take up a lot of space
—and
need its own bathroom—but I forgive you for your arrogance because you’re rich and good-looking, so you’re probably telling the truth about your past experience. However, the flaw in your reasoning is that you are supposed to be in Vermont.”

His gaze held hers. “I’m not in Vermont.”

“I know that
now
. I have bruises to prove it.”

The police officer didn’t smile. “Do you believe that story, Lucas?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Morgan