The Perfect Neighbor

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Authors: Nora Roberts
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toes. What next?”
    “Then he just … swooped.”
    “Oh-oh, the yank and swoop.” Crumbs scattered as Jody waved her hands. “It’s a classic. Hardly any guy can really pull it off, though. Chuck did on date six. That’s how we ended up back at my apartment, eating Chinese in bed.”
    “McQuinn pulled it off. He really, really pulled it off. Then, while my head was exploding, he yanked me back, just looked at me.”
    “Man. Man.”
    “Then he just … did it all again.”
    “A double.” Near tears with vicarious excitement, Jody gripped Cybil’s hand. “You got a double. There are women who go all their lives without a double. Dreaming of, yes, but never achieving the double yank and swoop.”
    “It was my first,” Cybil confessed. “It … was …
great!

    “Okay, okay, just the kiss part, okay? Just the lips and tongues and teeth thing. How was that?”
    “It was very hot.”
    “Oh … I’m going to have to open the window. I’m starting to sweat.”
    She jumped up, shoved up the window and took a deep gulp of air. “So, it was hot. Very hot. Keep going.”
    “It was like being, well, devoured. When your system just goes …” At a loss, she lifted her hands, wiggled them wildly. “And your head’s circling around about a foot above your shoulders, and … I don’t know how to describe it.”
    “You’ve got to.” Desperate, Jody squeezed Cybil’s shoulders. “I’m on the edge here. Try this—on the one-to-ten scale, where did it hit?”
    Cybil closed her eyes. “There is no scale.”
    “There’s always a scale—you can say off the scale, but there’s always a scale.”
    “No, Jody, there is no scale.”
    Eyeing Cybil, Jody stepped back. “The no-scale is an urban myth.”
    “It exists,” Cybil said soberly. “The no-scale exists, my friend, and has now been documented.”
    “Sweet Lord. I have to sit down.” She did so, her eyes never leaving Cybil’s face. “You experienced a no-scale. I believe you, Cyb. Thousands wouldn’t. Millions would scoff, but I believe you.”
    “I knew I could count on you.”
    “You know what this means, don’t you? He’s ruined you for anything less. Even a ten won’t satisfy you now. You’ll always be looking for the next no-scale.”
    “I’ve thought of that.” Considering, Cybil picked up her pencil to tap. “I believe it’s possible to live a full and happy life, hitting with some regularity between seven and ten, even after this experience. Man goes to the moon, Jody. Travels through space and time, finds himself on another world, but only briefly. He must come back to earth and live.”
    “That’s so wise,” Jody murmured, and had to dig a tissue out of her pocket. “So brave.”
    “Thank you. But in the meantime,” Cybil added with a grin, “there’s no harm in knocking on the door across the hall from time to time.”
    * * *
    Because she didn’t want to appear overanxious, Cybil put in a full morning’s work. She didn’t break until after two, when she thought her neighbor might enjoy sharing a cup of coffee, maybe a nice walk in the April sunshine.
    He really had to get out of that apartment more, she decided. Take advantage of all the city had to offer. She imagined him brooding behind his locked door, worried about his lack of employment, the bills.
    She was certain she could help him with that. There was no reason she couldn’t put a buzz in a few ears and get him a few gigs to tide him over.
    She heard the sax begin to weep as she stood in her bedroom fussing with her makeup. It made her tingle again, the low, sexy throb of it.
    He deserved a break, something to take that cynical gleam out of his eyes. Something that would prove to him life was full of surprises. She wanted to help him. There was a quality about him—an underlying unhappiness she was driven to smooth away.
    After all, she’d made him laugh. She’d helped him relax. If she could do it once, she could do it again. She badly wanted to see

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