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Bonnie Blythe

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Milagro For Miranda (Oregon In Love Book Three)
by Bonnie Blythe   

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Books by Bonnie Blythe
· Oregon In Love (The Complete Series)
· Claire's Not-So-Gothic Romance
· Melody's Knight
· Texas Whirlwind
· Dearly Loved
                >> View all



ISBN-10:  B0046LV01C Type: 


Copyright:  Aug 2008

Price: $3.71 (eBook)
Download to your Kindle (eBook)
Bonnie Blythe

Miranda Adams is in desperate need of a milagro-a miracle. She's trying to find her half-sister, Soledad, living in an orphanage somewhere in Mexico City. Spencer Meyers, bound to her by his family's blackmail, helps her as they set off on a frustrating search through winding, unnamed streets of Cuidad Nezahualcóyotl...and find much more than they ever expected.

Miranda Adams is in desperate need of a milagro-a miracle. She's trying to find her half-sister, Soledad, living in an orphanage somewhere in Mexico City. Spencer Meyers, bound to her by his family's blackmail, helps her as they set off on a frustrating search through winding, unnamed streets of Cuidad Nezahualcóyotl...and find much more than they ever expected.

Why am I here?

Spencer Meyers paused on the stone steps of the building in Portland’s Pearl District. The air smelled pungent from wet fall leaves lining the street. He gazed past the tiny white lights sparkling in trees along the sidewalk to the full moon riding high in the dark sky above.

Blowing out a breath, he looked up toward the entrance of the building. A sign on an easel advertised a showing of photographs by a Northwest artist. Her husband now. Thoughts of Julia teased his mind like the subtle breeze tugging at his tie.

Spencer touched the invitation in his pocket. He edged up the last few steps toward the rectangle of light spilling out the doorway, unable to resist a look. Inside, he saw people moving about, talking in clusters, studying the framed photographic prints on the wall. A couple eclipsed the light and emerged through the door, laughing as they jogged down the steps, oblivious to his presence.

Spencer moved closer to the entrance. A group of people parted—and Julia came into view. His heart tightened in his chest—a feeling he knew well. After spending several months working with her on a consulting project the previous year, he’d more or less decided he wanted to marry her. Her warm elegance and graciousness told him she’d be an excellent wife and mother.

But from the first, she only had eyes for the photographer—a starving artist type with no particular future.

I was stupid to come.

Crumpling the invitation as he pulled it from his pocket, he trudged down the steps and tossed the paper into a nearby trash bin. He strode past the shops of the downtown area, past the evening revelers, past the plaintive music drifting out from shops and restaurants.

When he arrived at his parking place, Spencer disarmed his car alarm by remote and swung into the leather seat of the black Infinity. The engine roared to life, along with his CD player, emitting the lush vocals of Natalie Cole singing about lost love. He jabbed the off button and sighed.

The bright yellow dashes of the road disappeared beneath his car as he made the drive to his family’s home in the West Hills. He’d arrived back in town a few days early from an extended business trip in England. When he found the invitation to the photography showing, he’d decided to attend on impulse. An impulse he now regretted.

Spencer had pictured himself married to someone like Julia and having a few kids, spending the rest of his life providing for his family and building up memories together, the way his parents had for him. At least that had been his plan after earning his MBA in business and beginning the grueling climb up the corporate ladder.

After achieving his goals in college, he was now on the upward path in a successful marketing firm. The only thing missing was the family.

Then he met Julia.

Spencer gripped the wheel tight. She had fallen in love with a struggling photography instructor who probably wouldn’t be able to provide her with the kind of life she deserved. Why?

Blowing out another breath, he shoved the couple from his mind.

Spencer drove uphill through the narrow, winding streets, eventually pulling into the driveway of his parents’ large Cape Cod home at the top of an ivy-draped, terraced rise. Aside from a light at the bottom of the steep stairway leading up to the front door, the house sat shrouded in darkness. His parents were out of town for the week.

The garage door inched upward. Spencer drove in and parked. Tomorrow he planned to make arrangements to take back the condo he’d sublet over the last several months. It would be good to get settled in and take a breather after his long absence. Spencer keyed in the security code to the kitchen door and entered the house.

Aside from the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the formal living room, he only heard the sound of his own weary breathing in the stillness. Antique furnishings loomed in the darkness, illuminated by the shafts of moonlight penetrating the window blinds.

Spencer yanked hard on his tie to loosen it as he walked down the thickly carpeted hallway. He passed by the family room, dominated by a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and knew he wasn’t in the mood for TV. Angling his wrist in the moonlight, he glanced at his watch. Too early for bed.

He stopped in front of the doorway leading to his father’s study. Two full walls of books lined the shelves. Maybe he could find something to read. Spencer entered the room. The familiar scent of leather and cigar smoke assailed him. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, deciding he didn’t want to go to the effort of looking through titles after all. The moonlit gloom suited him for the moment.

He settled into a leather armchair located in the deepest shadows of the room. His gaze ranged about the space, coming to rest on his father’s liquor cabinet kept in the corner. He frowned at the glass decanter of brandy sitting on top, knowing he wouldn’t find any answers to life’s ills in the amber liquid.

Spencer thought again of Julia. He shook his head, trying to block her incessant image from his mind. She was married now. He shouldn’t be entertaining any thoughts of her. Disgusted with himself, he leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes.

A low scraping noise shattered the stillness. Spencer cocked his head, wondering if he’d imagined the sound. He waited for a repeat before making the effort to check it out. He didn’t have to wait long. The study window slid open, and a dark figure eased inside.

Spencer’s eyes widened. Adrenaline surged through his system. Heart racing, he gripped the arms of the chair, ready to spring. The figure straightened, revealing feminine curves. A woman! Astonishment froze his response.

She was dressed in dark clothing—a black stocking cap over her head, black gloves on her hands, and had a black bag slung over her shoulder. A shaft of moonlight momentarily illuminated her face, revealing it to be smudged with a dark substance. What in the world?

Spencer held his breath. It would be a snap to overpower her. He relaxed a notch, overcome with a morbid curiosity to see what she was up to. Knowing he was hidden in the shadows, he waited for her next action.

The woman moved with practiced ease. By her familiarity with the surroundings, Spencer guessed she’d been in this room before—and knew the house would be empty. She walked to the liquor cabinet in the corner, her movements fluid and soundless. Spencer tensed. His father’s safe was hidden inside.

The woman crouched down, and with nimble fingers opened the cabinet, removing the false front. Setting it to the side, she keyed in the combination to the digital lock. Spencer watched in disbelief as the tiny red light turned green. I don’t even have the code for that safe!

He sent up a silent prayer for wisdom of what to do next. If he tried to slip from the room and go for the phone, the woman would hear him. Unreleased air pressed against his lungs. What’s she after? Money? What does my father keep in there? Spencer half-wondered if he was hallucinating the whole thing.

A moment later, the woman pulled a stack of folders from the safe. A few files slid from the top and cascaded to the floor. Emitting a tiny cry, she bent over and scooped them together. She straightened, setting them in a puddle of moonlight on top of the desk. Rifling through each, she selected one and pulled it from the pile.

Spencer watched as she opened the file and looked at the documents inside. A gasp escaped her lips. Spencer remained motionless, his gaze fastened on her every move, his heart in his throat. The woman gripped the edge of the desk and took a deep breath. She closed the folder and slid it into the bag. What was in that file?

The light from the moon flashed on something in the folder before it disappeared from view. A photograph? Spencer somehow felt sure it was a photograph. But of whom? And why would a stranger risk breaking into my parents’ house to steal it?

The woman began to stack the remaining files, then paused. After a heartbeat of hesitation, she flung opened one of the other files. Shaking head in obvious anger, she rifled through each one before stuffing the whole stack in the bag. Without a sound, she went back to the cabinet, closed it up, and headed for the window.

There was no way Spencer was going to allow her to escape. He leaned forward in the chair. The leather creaked under his weight.

The woman went still.

Spencer stood and stepped from the shadows. He flicked on the floor lamp next to the chair. “Turn around!”

The woman jumped back toward the desk. Spencer bolted across the room and faced her across the desktop. She yanked open the top drawer and scrabbled inside.

Spencer lunged across the desktop, reaching for her arms. A metallic sliding click arrested him. Dull light shone on an object pointed toward his chest. His heart ricocheted against his ribcage. A gun? From my father’s drawer?

His gaze cut to the woman. He saw her face unobscured for the first time. Flame blue eyes stared back at him. Eyes he’d seen before. Air whooshed out of his lungs, past his vocal chords.


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