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

Sarah

xx

One Man. One Woman. Two dogs.

Meet Molly and Daniel.

They both think they know everything there is to know about relationships.

They’re both wrong.

Turn the page for a sneak peek of

Sarah Morgan’s fabulous new book, available soon!

He smiled at her. “If you’re not interested, why have we spent so much time chatting?”

“Our dogs are best friends.”

“So if I didn’t have a dog you wouldn’t be interested?”

“You do have a dog, so that question doesn’t arise. And you shouldn’t say things like that in front of Brutus. You don’t want him to feel insecure.”

There was a pause. “Just so we’re clear—when I buy a woman dinner I don’t invite Brutus.”

The conversation was light, but she was conscious that underneath the banter was a seam of delicious tension. She was trying to work out how to respond when it started to rain—a light patter that chilled her skin.

Daniel cursed softly and grabbed the cups. “Time to shelter.”

“Why? It’s only a few spots. Don’t be a wimp.”

“Are you calling me a wimp?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. It’s good to know you have a weakness.”

The rain grew heavier and huge drops thundered down, soaking everything they touched.

“You’re right. We should shelter.”

She scooped up her tea and ran, her feet splashing through newly formed puddles, the rain soaking through the thin fabric of her shirt and flattening her hair to her head.

Valentine barked, excited and fired up by this new urgency, and Brutus followed. The two dogs were side by side as they made for the shelter of the trees.

She dived through the long, pendulous branches of a weeping willow, feeling the leaves brush her face and her arms. She knew Daniel was behind her. She could hear the heavy thud of his running shoes on the ground and awareness chased across her skin, the feeling so intense it was like pressure. He could catch her easily. And when he did…

She stopped under the tree, unsettled by the explicit nature of her own thoughts. It had been a while since she’d been interested enough to risk getting involved with someone. The last three years had been spent focusing on rebuilding her life, and sex hadn’t been part of that.

She turned in time to catch the gleam in his eyes, and gasped as he backed her against the thick trunk of the tree.

She told herself it was the sprinting that had made her chest tight and her breathing rapid, but she knew she was lying to herself. It was him. This man with the wicked eyes and the slow, dangerous smile. This man who made her feel a million things she never usually felt, all of which terrified her.

Did he know? If so he was a sadist, because he gave her no breathing room, no space in which to gather herself. Instead he stopped right in front of her—so close she was forced to take a step back or touch him.

She felt the rough bark of the tree press against her back and knew there were no more steps back to take. From here it was stand still or move forward.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m keeping you dry. Protecting you from the rain.” He grinned. ‘Showing you my weakness.’