Miracle On 5th Avenue. Sarah Morgan

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didn’t bother putting on lights. Instead, she toed off her boots to avoid trailing snow through the apartment and walked in her socks to the window.

      Whatever else he had, Lucas Blade had taste and style.

      He also had underfloor heating, and she felt the luxurious warmth steal through the thick wool of her socks and slowly thaw her numbed feet.

      She stared at the soaring skyline, letting the cold and the last of the snowflakes melt away.

      Far beneath her she could see the trail of lights on Fifth Avenue as a few bold cabs made what was probably their final journey through Manhattan. Soon the roads would be closed. Travel would be impossible, or at least unwise. New York, the city that never slept, would finally be forced to take a rest.

      The snow fell past the window, big fat flakes that drifted and swirled, before settling lazily on the already deep layer that blanketed the city.

      Eva hugged herself, staring out across the silvery-white expanse of Central Park.

      It was New York at its dreamy, wintry best. Why Lucas Blade felt the need to go on retreat to write, she had no idea. If she owned this place she’d never leave it.

      But maybe he needed to leave it.

      He was grieving, wasn’t he? He’d lost his beloved wife three years ago at Christmas. His grandmother had told her how much it had changed him. And why wouldn’t it? He’d lost the love of his life. His soul mate.

      Eva leaned her head against the glass. Her chest ached for him.

      Her friends told her she was too sensitive, but she’d come to accept that it was just the way she was. Other people watched the news and managed to stay detached. Eva felt everything deeply, and she felt Lucas’s pain even though she’d never even met him.

      How cruel was it to meet the love of your life and then lose her?

      How did you pick up the pieces and move on?

      She had no idea how long she stood there or when, exactly, she sensed she wasn’t alone. It started with a faint warning prickle at the back of her neck, which rapidly turned to the cold chill of fear when she heard a nearby clunk.

      She was imagining things, surely? Of course she was alone. This apartment block had some of the best security in the city and she’d been careful to lock the door behind her.

      No one could have followed her in so there couldn’t be anyone else in there, unless—

      She swallowed as a different explanation occurred to her.

       —unless someone had already been in the apartment.

      She turned her head slowly, wishing now that she’d taken the time to find the lights and switch them on. The storm had darkened the sky and the apartment was full of cavernous shadows and mysterious corners. Her imagination burst to life and she tried to reason with herself. The sound could have been anything. Maybe it had come from outside the building.

      She 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 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 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 across her mouth and the other gripped her wrists with brutal strength.

       Holy crap.

      If she could have screamed, she would have, 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 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 didn’t specify the circumstances.

      Was that really going to be her last thought? Clearly the mind was capable of strange thoughts 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 mere weeks before Christmas, flattened by this gloriously smelling hunk of solid muscle. If Lucas Blade 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 strewed 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 him, 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

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