Sunset In Central Park (From Manhattan with Love 2)

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.”