by Sarah Morgan
“She’s a great mother.” Frankie looked out the window of the cab. “We’re going the wrong way. This isn’t home.”
“I’m not ready to go home yet. There are things I need to say to you and things I want to hear you say to me. And I don’t want to do it in the chaos of the house. I love our friends, but today I want you to myself.”
“What about Claws?”
“Eva texted when you were in the emergency room. The vet has given her some antibiotics and we’re to watch for infection, but they didn’t seem too worried. Eva has agreed to keep her in her apartment until we’re home.”
“Claws and I can heal together.” Frankie glanced out the window again, nerves fluttering in her belly. She’d had a plan, but that had all gone awry thanks to Eddy. Now she didn’t know what to do. When was the best time to say what she wanted to say? “So where are we going?”
“Central Park?” Matt looked at her leg, the bandage exposed by the dress. “Will you be able to walk?”
“Of course.” She settled back in her seat and watched New York slide past her, store windows, jostling crowds, people jabbering into cell phones. A million lives blended into a small island. Small, and yet big in so many ways.
The cab dropped them off near Columbus Circle and they walked toward Bow Bridge along winding paths, past small children playing baseball and families with strollers.
It was a perfect late-September day.
“Another month and the ice rink will be back.” She slid her arm through Matt’s. “We should go. All of us.”
“You hate ice-skating.”
“I know, but it’s Eva’s favorite thing. Last Christmas was so hard for her. I want this one to be better. Shall we suggest it?”
“That depends. Will you still love me if I land on my butt?” They’d reached the bridge and they both stopped, as if subconsciously they’d both been aiming for the same destination.
Matt leaned on the graceful arch and looked over the lake.
Frankie glanced at him and then at the water, watching the reflections play across the surface.
“Nothing will stop me loving you.” The words came naturally and when he turned to her she continued in a rush. “Before you say anything, there are some things I need to tell you. I spoke to my mother this morning.”
“She called you again?”
“No. I called her. I asked her to meet me. We talked. Properly. In fact, I think it’s probably the first honest conversation we’ve ever had.”
“How honest?”
“I told her about my dad.”
“All of it?”
“All of it. Turned out that wasn’t his first affair. He’d had others. He even had one when she was expecting me.” It still hadn’t really sunk in. “She forgave him. But she had no idea that I knew about the last affair.”
“Do you feel better now that she knows?”
“Yes, but what really helped was telling you.” She paused, wondering how she could make him understand. “I’m not like Eva. I don’t find it easy talking to people about emotional things. I guess it makes me feel too vulnerable. Naked.”
“I like you naked.”
“When my mother arrived, and she was so upset, it was like being catapulted back in time. I felt as if everything was unraveling. As if suddenly I was unlearning everything I’d learned.” She leaned her head against Matt’s shoulder. “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He curved his arm around her and pulled her close. “Your mother spent her whole visit giving you a bunch of reasons not to fall in love, reminding you of all the reasons you’ve spent your life avoiding it, so it was hardly surprising you started backing off. I should have given you space instead of pressing you. My timing couldn’t have been worse.”
“I shouldn’t have let her words affect me the way they did. I do trust what we have. It’s special, and real and the most powerful thing I’ve ever known.” Her throat felt thick. “Back there in the apartment you said that I didn’t need you for anything, but that isn’t true. I need you for so many things, Matt. You’re the only person I’ve ever been truly myself with. I love every single moment we spend together, whether we’re up on a roof terrace hauling paving stones, or naked in bed. With you, I’m allowed to be me.”
“And I love who you are.” He slid his fingers into her hair. “I thought I knew you so well, and then that day in the apartment when you forgot to wear your glasses, I realized I didn’t know you at all. And the more I learned about you, the harder and deeper I fell. I thought I was in control of everything, and before I knew what was happening I was out of my depth. There was so much I wanted to say to you, but I was afraid I’d send you running. I knew you had feelings for me, I just didn’t know if they were as strong as mine. I could see that your mother had put questions in your mind, and instead of leaving you to work it out, I waded in clumsily. I really thought I’d lost you. I thought you didn’t trust me.”
“Why do you think I told you all those things about myself? Because I trust you. I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. And the reason I freaked out was not because I didn’t want what you were offering, but because I wanted it so, so much.” She could barely see him through the sheen of her tears. “None of my relationships have ever mattered before. I didn’t want them to matter. I saw what happened when they mattered. And then there was you—”
“Frankie—”
“You broke down every barrier I’ve ever put up. Being with you was exciting, it was fun. And it was relaxing because for the first time in my life I wasn’t carrying secrets. I’ve spent my life being scared of intimacy but I see now that intimacy can be good. There’s nothing better than being with someone who really knows you, and you know me. I’m terrified of loving you.” She swallowed. “But I’m even more terrified of losing you. I want to hold on to what we have and never let it go and I don’t know how to do that. I—I’m new to this. I’m going to need a manual or something.”
“I’ll be your manual. We’ll work it out together.” He stroked his fingers through her hair. “Earlier you said you had something you wanted to give me?”
“Yes.” She dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out the object she’d been carrying around. “Here.” She pushed it into his hand and he studied it with raised eyebrows.
“You rushed home to give me the ring pull from your soda can?”
“I was improvising. You need to use your imagination.” Nerves fluttered in her stomach. “It’s a ring. Maybe not the prettiest ring, or the most valuable ring, but that isn’t what counts, is it? It’s symbolic.”
His expression changed. “Is it?”
“Yes. It signifies how much I love you.”
There was a gleam in his eyes. “You love me as much as a can of cola?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed I love diet cola, so in fact, that would be a lot.” She knew he was teasing her, but suddenly her courage faltered. “Of course, if you’ve changed your mind—”
“I am never going to change my mind, and it so happens I’ve been carrying something around, too.” He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a box. “This is for you.”
She stared at the box, recognizing the delicate logo of Tempest Designs, Skylar’s company. “This is from Emily’s store on Puffin Island. You already bought me a starfish necklace—”
“This isn’t a starfish necklace. Open it.”
She took it from him and discovered that her fingers were shaking. Flipping open the lid, she saw a large diamond in an unusual and beautiful setting. “Oh. Oh, Matt. You bought this when we were on the island?”
“Yes.” He took the ring and slid it onto her finger. “Francesca Cole, will you marry me?”
She could hardly breathe. “That depends—”
His gaze grew wary. “On—?”
“On whether you can keep up with my sex drive. I’ve wasted a lot of time.”
The corners of his mouth flickered. “Are you fli
rting with me?”
“I don’t know how to flirt. I’m telling the truth.” She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. “Have I scared you?”
He gave a slow smile. “Nowhere near as much as you scared Eddy.”
“I was thinking that we could let Roxy stay in my apartment as long as she needs to.”
“You’re going to move more than your toothbrush?”
“I think it’s time. Does this mean I get to adopt your cat, too?”
“I’m afraid so. Does that affect your answer?”
“No. I want to marry you, Matt.” She eased her mouth away from his, happiness engulfing her like a burst of sunshine. She was marrying him. She was marrying Matt. Her best friend. Her lover. “So is that it? Have we finished here?”
“Finished? I haven’t even started.” And then he was kissing her, a hot, hard kiss that made her brain melt and her limbs shaky.
When he finally lifted his head, Frankie realized they’d attracted a small crowd of people, some with cameras, all of them watching with rapt attention.
“Oops.” She buried her face in Matt’s chest. “This is embarrassing.”
He grinned. “Honey, this is New York City. The most romantic destination on the planet. The department of tourism will thank us.”
And he kissed her again, until happiness rippled through her and the last rays of the sun set over Central Park.
Acknowledgments
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 5TH AVENUE by Sarah Morgan’s
Eva 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.
Here lies Eva, whose Christmas wish was to find herself up close and personal with a man, but who didn’t specify the circumstances.
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 fa
miliar. 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.”