Miracle On 5th Avenue (From Manhattan with Love 3)

“Eva—” Anger thickened Lucas’s voice even though he knew it was wrong of him to take it out on her. “I don’t want to go to the ball.” The thought of it froze him to the bone. As always they saw things differently. She heard the word ball and thought of starlight and romance, whereas he knew it would be an evening filled with curious looks and sympathetic glances.

“I know you’re busy, but it will be amazing and it’s just one night. I turned down a ton of other invitations. This is the only one I accepted.”

“You shouldn’t have accepted that one.”

She froze. “You told me to deal with your mail as I saw fit. I saw fit to accept one ball, the proceeds of which go to a very good cause.”

“If I supported every cause I’m asked to give money to, I’d never get any work done and I’d be broke.”

“But you’re not broke, and we’re not talking about every cause, just this one. It’s an organization that provides therapy dogs, and—”

“But it isn’t just this one, is it?” To take his mind off the damn ball, he scanned the letters she’d spread in front of him. “I’m sending signed books for auction? What makes you think I even have that number of signed books?”

“You wrote them. You must have copies. And maybe it seems generous, but it’s less time-consuming than going to the auction yourself and you’ll be raising money for lots of people less fortunate than yourself. I thought it was a perfect compromise. Why do these people write letters to your home address, anyway? Why don’t they just email your publisher?”

“They do,” he said wearily. “These should have been handled by my publisher, too, but they have a new assistant in the office and she sent them directly to me. Do you have any idea how many invitations we receive? We can’t say yes to all of them, Eva.”

“Not all of them, no,” she said, “but you can manage these. I’ve checked them all out. They are really good causes.”

“Is there anything you think isn’t a good cause?”

“Of course. I’m more businesslike than you may think.” She bristled. “I took a look at the financials and checked what percentage of their donations is spent directly on the cause, and what is spent on salaries, etc. These all came out well. All you have to do is sign the letters, sign the books and I’ll do the rest.”

Deciding that in this case surrender was quicker than a fight, he reached for a pen. “Have you ever worked in charity fund-raising?”

“I would be hopeless working for a charity. I’d be in tears the whole time. I don’t have a very thick skin. Try not to scrawl,” she added as she studied his signature. “They might not think it’s you.”

He signed with an exaggerated scrawl. “Normally my publisher just sends these with a compliments slip.”

“I thought this was more personal. They’ll treasure the letter.”

He picked one of them up and read aloud. “I enjoyed writing it and it is certainly among my favorites. Anyone who knows me would know I didn’t write that sentence. I never admit to having a favorite.”

> “Why not?”

“Because then it sounds as if you think the other books you wrote aren’t as good.”

“That’s ridiculous. If I tell you I’m cooking you one of my favorite dishes, you don’t automatically assume that anything else I cooked you would poison you, do you?”

He carried on reading. “I agree it was a shame that such a warm, lovely character had to die in the second chapter.” He glanced up, exasperated. “You can’t write that. I don’t agree. That character had to die.”

“Why? Couldn’t they just have been injured or something and then made a full recovery after good medical care? Why do all your characters have to die? It’s horribly depressing.”

He lowered the letter. “Do I tell you how to cook? Do I suggest that the egg needs a little longer in the oven or that the cookie you baked would be improved with chocolate chips?”

“No.”

“Then don’t tell me how to write my books.” He returned his gaze to the page. “I agree that your charity is raising money for a most excellent cause. I would never say that, either. I’m already inundated with sob stories about excellent causes.”

“Which is why it’s even more important to make your response sound personal. They’ll appreciate it.”

“And they will come back to me time and time again.” He carried on reading, “Although I am unable to attend your event on this occasion, it is my pleasure to enclose a signed book for you to include in your auction. I wish you every success with the evening and with your fund-raising. You’ve signed my name with kisses. And asked them to stay in touch.”

“The kisses were a joke. It was supposed to make you smile.” She snatched the letter back from him and he felt a stab of guilt.

“If I sign my name with kisses my social media account will be jammed with readers wanting to marry me.”

“Don’t kid yourself. You’re scary when you’re moody.”