Sarah Morgan - New York, Actually - A sparkling romantic comedy from the bestselling Queen of Romance

“Why didn’t he give Brutus back to the wife?”

“Firstly because she’d moved back to Minnesota to live with her mother, secondly because the last thing he would ever do was something that would make his ex-wife happy and thirdly because, much as his wife loved the dog, she hated him more. She wanted to make his life as difficult as possible so she made him keep the dog.”

“That’s a horrible story.” Molly, who heard plenty of horrible stories in her working day, was shocked.

“That’s relationships.”

“That’s one divorce. That’s not all relationships. So you rescued him?” That revelation exploded all her preconceived ideas about him. She’d assumed he was the sort who put himself front and center of his life, rarely inconveniencing himself for anyone, but he’d saved this beautiful, vulnerable dog who had lost the only person who had ever loved him. He might be handsome and a sharp talker, but he was obviously a good person. “I think it’s great that you’ve done this.” She rubbed Brutus’s head, sad that this animal had paid the price for people’s failure to work out their differences. When relationships fell apart the fallout was far and wide. She knew that better than anyone. “Poor guy.” The dog nudged her pockets hopefully and she smiled. “Are you looking for treats? Is he allowed?”

“He’s allowed. If you have a spare.”

“I always carry them for Valentine.” Hearing his name, Valentine was by her side in a flash, possessive and protective.

“Valentine?” The man watched as she fed both dogs. “Is he a man substitute?”

“No. Last time I checked he was definitely a dog.”

He flashed her a smile of appreciation. “I thought maybe you’d given up on men and settled for the love of a good dog.”

That was closer to the truth than he could have imagined, but she had no intention of admitting it to anyone, least of all someone who seemed to have the world at his feet. What would he know about how it felt to have your weaknesses publicly exposed? Nothing.

And she had no intention of enlightening him.

Her past was hers and hers alone. More private than a bank account, hidden securely behind a firewall that allowed no one access. If there was a password, it would be Screw Up. Or possibly Major Screw Up.

“Valentine isn’t a substitute for anything or anyone. He’s my number one dog. My best friend.”

Her gaze collided with his and she felt the connection like a physical jolt.

She had the jitters, and she couldn’t remember when that had last happened to her. It was his eyes. She was willing to bet those devilish eyes had encouraged more than a few women to throw caution to the wind. There was probably a label on him somewhere saying Handle with Care.

She tried to ignore the way she was feeling, but her heart had other ideas.

Oh no, Molly. No, no, no. Her inbox was filled with questions from women wanting to know how to handle men exactly like him, and while she might be excellent at giving advice, her expertise ended there.

Somehow sensing he was the topic of conversation, Valentine wagged his tail hard.

She’d found him abandoned when he was still a puppy.

She still remembered the look on his face. A little startled and a lot hurt, as if he couldn’t quite believe someone had actually chosen to dump him in the gutter rather than keep him. As if that action had caused him to question everything he had ever believed about himself.

She knew the feeling.

They’d found each other, two lost souls, and bonded instantly.

“I called him Valentine because he has a heart-shaped nose.” That was the only detail she was prepared to share. Time to leave. Before she said something, or did something, that might lead her on a path she had no intention of walking. “Enjoy your run.”

“Wait—” He put out a hand to stop her. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you. You live near here?”

The knowledge that he’d been watching her while she’d been watching him gave her pulse rate another workout.

“Near enough.”

“Then I’ll be seeing you again. I’m Daniel.” He held out his hand and she took it, her body ignoring the warnings of her brain. She felt his fingers close around hers, the pressure firm. She imagined he knew what to do with those hands and imagining it gave her that breathless feeling that made it difficult to think properly.

She was having trouble focusing, and in the meantime he was looking at her expectantly, waiting.

“Let’s try this again,” he murmured. “I’m Daniel, and you’re—”

Her name. He was waiting for her to tell him her name. And judging from the amusement in his eyes he knew exactly why she was tongue-tied.

“Molly.” There were still days when it felt unnatural using that name, which was illogical because Molly was her name. Or one of them. The fact that she’d only started using that name since she’d moved to New York shouldn’t matter.

She gave him no more than that but still she saw him file it away and knew it would be remembered. She sensed he wasn’t a man who forgot much. He was smart. But even if he found out her last name and looked her up, he still wouldn’t find anything. She’d checked.

“Join me for a coffee, Molly.” He released her hand. “I know a great little place near here that makes the best coffee on the Upper East Side.”

It was somewhere between an invitation and a command. Smart and smooth. An effortless overture from a man who didn’t know the meaning of the word rejection .

But he was about to learn, because there was no way she would be joining him for coffee or anything else.

“Thanks, but I have to get to work. Enjoy your run, you and Brutus.”

She didn’t give him a chance to argue, or herself a chance to doubt her decision. Instead she ran. She ran through the dappled sunshine and the scent of blossoms, Valentine by her side and temptation nipping at her heels. She didn’t turn her head even though not doing so made her neck ache and was a bigger test on her willpower than anything she could remember for a long time. Was he watching her? Was he annoyed that she’d turned him down?

Only when she’d covered what she considered to be a safe distance did she slow her pace. They were close to one of the many ankle-level dog drinking fountains, and she stopped to catch her breath and let a thirsty Valentine drink his fill.

Join me for a coffee…

And then what?

And then nothing.

When it came to relationships she was great with the theory but bad in practice. How bad was a matter of public record. First came love. Then came pain.

You’re a relationship expert, but you’re hopeless at relationships. Do you even know how crazy that is?

Oh yes, she knew. And so did a few million strangers. Which was why these days she was sticking with the theory.

And as for smooth lawyer Daniel, she guessed it would take him around five minutes to forget everything about her.

* * *

He couldn’t get her out of his mind.

Annoyed and a little intrigued by the novelty of that experience, Daniel pressed the buzzer and Harriet opened the door.

He smelled fresh coffee and something delicious baking in the oven.

“How was your run?” She had a tiny Chihuahua under her arm and Daniel clamped his hand on Brutus’s collar, intercepting the enthusiastic surge of energy that was about to propel the dog through the door.

“Are you seriously going to leave these two together? Brutus would eat him in one mouthful.”

Harriet looked confused. “Who is Brutus?”

“This is Brutus.” Daniel removed the lead and the German shepherd bounded into the apartment, his tail smacking into one of Harriet’s plants and scattering soil and blooms across the floor.