The Perfect Neighbor

By: Nora Roberts

Chapter 1


“So … have you talked to him yet?”

“Hmm?” Cybil Campbell continued to work at her drawing board, diligently sectioning off the paper with the skill of long habit. “Who am I talking to?”

There was a long and gusty sigh—one that had Cybil fighting to keep her lips from twitching. She knew her first-floor neighbor Jody Myers well—and understood exactly what him she was referring to.

“The gorgeous Mr. Mysterious in 3B, Cyb. Come on, he moved in a week ago and hasn’t said a word to anyone. But you’re right across the hall. We need some details here.”

“I’ve been pretty busy.” Cybil flicked a glance up, watching Jody, with her expressive brown eyes and mop of dusky-blond hair, energetically pace around the studio. “Hardly noticed him.”

Jody’s first response was a snort. “Get real. You notice everything.”

Jody wandered to the drawing board, hung over Cybil’s shoulder, then wrinkled her nose. Nothing much interesting about a bunch of blue lines. She liked it better when Cybil started sketching in the sections.

“He doesn’t even have a name on the mailbox yet. And nobody ever sees him leave the building during the day. Not even Mrs. Wolinsky, and nobody gets by her.”

“Maybe he’s a vampire.”

“Wow.” Intrigued with the idea, Jody pursed her pretty lips. “Would that be cool or what?”

“Too cool,” Cybil agreed, and continued to prep her drawing, as Jody danced around the studio and chattered like a magpie.

It never bothered Cybil to have company while she worked. The fact was, she enjoyed it. She’d never been one for isolation and quiet. It was the reason she was happy living in New York, happy to be settled into a small building with a handful of unapologetically nosy neighbors.

Such things not only satisfied her on a personal level, they were grist for her professional mill.

And of all the occupants of the old, converted warehouse, Jody Myers was Cybil’s favorite. Three years earlier when Cybil had moved in, Jody had been an energetic newlywed who fervently believed that everyone should be as blissfully happy as she herself was.

Meaning, Cybil mused, married.

Now the mother of the seriously adorable eight-month-old Charlie, Jody was only more committed to her cause. And Cybil knew she herself was Jody’s primary objective.

“Haven’t you even run into him in the hall?” Jody wanted to know.

“Not yet.” Idly, Cybil picked up a pencil, tapped it against her full-to-pouty bottom lip. Her long-lidded eyes were the green of a clear sea at twilight, and might have been exotic or sultry if they weren’t almost always shimmering with humor.

“Actually, Mrs. Wolinsky’s losing her touch. I have seen him leave the building during the day—which rules out vampire status.”

“You have?” Instantly caught, Jody dragged a rolling stool over to the drawing board. “When? Where? How?”

“When—dawn. Where? Heading east on Grand. How? Insomnia.” Getting into the spirit, Cybil swiveled on her stool. Her eyes danced with amusement. “Woke up early, and I kept thinking about the brownies left over from the party the other night.”

“Atomic brownies,” Jody agreed.

“Yeah, so I couldn’t get back to sleep until I ate one. Since I was up anyhow, I came in here to work awhile and ended up just standing at the window. I saw him go out. You can’t miss him. He must be six-four. And those shoulders …”

Both women rolled their eyes in appreciation.

“Anyway, he was carrying a gym bag and wearing black jeans and a black sweatshirt, so my deduction was he was heading to the gym to work out. You don’t get those shoulders by lying around eating chips and drinking beer all day.”

“Aha!” Jody speared a finger in the air. “You are interested.”

“I’m not dead, Jody. The man is dangerously gorgeous, and you add that air of mystery along with a tight butt …” Her hands, rarely still, spread wide. “What’s a girl to do but wonder?”

“Why wonder? Why don’t you go knock on his door, take him some cookies or something. Welcome him to the neighborhood. Then you can find out what he does in there all day, if he’s single, what he does for a living. If he’s single. What—” She broke off, head lifting in alert. “That’s Charlie waking up.”

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