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

“You said it wasn’t good.”

“It’s not good. It’s better than good.” He slid the fork into the fluffy soufflé, examining it closely. “It’s perfect. Like eating a cloud.”

His compliment thawed the frosty atmosphere and Eva watched as he cleared his plate. “In that case I forgive you.” Although she wouldn’t have admitted it, she was relieved to see him eating. The vast, empty fridge had worried her. Not eating was a bad sign. She knew. She’d lost fifteen pounds after her grandmother had died. Getting through each hour had been hard and every day had felt like a month. Sympathy swelled inside her.

He stared at his plate. “If you were going to poison someone, how would you do it?”

Sympathy evaporated. “Keep being obnoxious and

you might find out.”

He put his fork down slowly. “Was I being obnoxious?”

“You were questioning whether my food was poisonous.”

“Are you always this sensitive?”

“Is it sensitive to be hurt when someone criticizes your professional abilities? If someone asked you how you choose to bore your readers, you’d be similarly offended.”

“I never bore my readers.”

“And I never poison the people I cook for.”

“My question was abstract, not personal. I was speaking hypothetically.”

“Then your timing was bad. Abstract is when you don’t have a plate of freshly cooked food in front of you.”

His gaze locked on hers and she noticed that his eyes weren’t black, but a velvety dark brown. A slow dangerous heat spread through her body until her limbs had the liquid consistency of warm honey.

He was the first to lower his gaze. “You’re right. I was hungry.” He helped himself to another roll, his voice level. “And, for the record, I do own a Ferrari I keep in the garage.”

Her heart was pounding. What just happened? What was that look? “You own a Ferrari in New York City?”

“Hence the reason it stays in the garage for most of the winter. Apparently it doesn’t like idling in traffic or the bitter cold.” He glanced across at her plate. “You’re not eating?”

“I want to make sure you don’t die before I take a mouthful.”

He laughed, and in that instant she understood exactly why he had to fight off women. That smile held an indecent amount of seductive charm. She hastily started eating to take her mind off the direction her thoughts were taking.

“So tell me,” he said, breaking off a piece of roll, “what hell do you intend to inflict on my apartment?”

“Excuse me?”

“At least spare me pine needles.”

“I have a Nordmann fir arriving any minute.”

“Cancel the order.”

“You can’t have Christmas without a tree.”

“I’ve managed it for the past three years.”

“All the more reason to have an extra big one this year.”

“There is no logic behind that statement.”

“I don’t tell you how to write your book. Don’t tell me how to decorate your apartment.”