The Perfect Neighbor by Nora Roberts Page A

to count. “Um, I think it’s seven cousins so far he’s managed to match up, marry off. He’s terrifying.”
    “What do you mean, ‘match up’?”
    “He just sort of finds the right person for them—don’t ask me how—then he works out a way to put them together, let nature take its course, and before you know it, you’ve got wedding bells and bassinets. He just told me my cousin Ian and his wife are expecting their first. They were married last fall. The man’s batting a thousand.”
    “Does anyone tell him to butt out?”
    “Oh, constantly.” She tipped up her head and grinned. “He just doesn’t pay attention. I figure he’s going to work on Adria or Mel next—give my brother, Matthew, time to season.”
    “What about you?”
    “Oh, I’m too slick for him. I know his canny tricks, and I’m not going to fall in love for years. What about you? Ever been there?”
    “Where would that be?”
    “Love, McQuinn, don’t be dense.”
    “It’s not a place—it’s a situation. And there’s nothing there.”
    “Oh, I think there will be,” she said dreamily. “Eventually.”
    For the second time, she pulled up short. “Oh, damn. That’s Johnny’s car. He’s come in from New Jersey after all. Damn, damn, damn. Okay, here’s the plan.”
    She whirled around, shook her head clear when it spun. “I should never have had that last glass of wine, but I’m still master of my fate.”
    “You bet you are, kid.”
    “Enough to know you call me ‘kid’ so you can feel superior and aloof, but that’s beside the point. We’re just going to stroll on down a few more feet until we’re right in front of her window. Very natural, okay?”
    “That’s a tough one, but I’ll see what I can do.”
    “I just love that nasty streak of sarcasm. Okay, this is fine, this is good. Now, we’re going to stand right here, because she’s watching, I promise. Any minute you’ll see her curtains twitch. Look for it.”
    Because it seemed harmless, and he was starting to enjoy the way she held on to him, he flicked a glance over her head. “Right on cue. So?”
    “You’re going to have to kiss me.”
    His gaze shot back to hers. “Am I?”
    “And you’re going to have to make it look good. If you do it right, she’ll figure Johnny’s a lost cause—for a while, anyway. And I’ll give you another fifty.”
    He ran his tongue around his teeth. She had her face tipped back and looked as appealing as a single rosebud in a garden of thorns. “You’re going to pay me fifty bucks to kiss you.”
    “Like a bonus. This could send Johnny back to Jersey for good. Just think of it as being onstage. Doesn’t have to mean anything. Is she still watching?”
    “Yeah.” But he wasn’t looking at the window now, and didn’t have a clue.
    “Great. Good. Make it count, okay. Romantic. Just slide your arms around me, then lean down and—”
    “I know how to kiss a woman, Cybil.”
    “Of course you do. No offense meant whatsoever. But this should be choreographed so that—”
    He decided the only way to shut her up was to get on with it, and to get on with it his way. He didn’t slide his arms around her—he yanked her against him, and nearly off her feet. He had one glimpse of those big green eyes widening in shock, before his mouth crushed down on hers and sent the next babbling words sliding down her throat.
    He was right. That was her last dizzy thought. He was absolutely right. He did know how to kiss a woman.
    She had to grab on to his shoulders. Had to rise up to her toes.
    She had to moan.
    Her head was spinning in fast, giddy circles. Her heart had flipped straight into her throat to block any chance of air. It made her feel helpless, lost, shaky as his mouth pumped heat like a furnace into her body.
    And his mouth was so hard, so hard, and stunningly hungry. What else could she do but let him feed?
    It was like the dream, he thought. Only better. Much, much better. Her taste hadn’t been so unique in