Free The Perfect Neighbor by Nora Roberts Page A

it’s like to have a neurosis-free client who remembers lunch dates and sends me gifts on my birthday.”
    “The neuroses are part of the package, but I’m sorry about lunch.”
    Annoyance faded into concern. “What’s up, Preston? You look ragged out. Is the play stalled?”
    “No, it’s moving. Better than I expected. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
    “Out playing your horn till all hours again?”
    “No.” Thinking of the woman in 3A, he thought. Pacing the floor. Wanting the woman in 3A. The woman who now, undoubtedly, considered him a slightly lower life-form than slime.
    “Just a bad night, Mandy.”
    “Okay.” Because as irritated as he could make her, she cared about him. She crossed the room to give his tensed shoulders a brisk rub. “But you owe me lunch. How about some coffee?”
    “There’s some on the stove. It was fresh at six this morning.”
    “Let’s start over, then. I’ll make it.” She moved behind the counter. After she had the coffee going, she poked into the cupboards. She considered Preston’s welfare part of her job.
    “God, McQuinn, are you on a hunger strike? There’s nothing in here but potato chip crumbs and what once might have been cracked-wheat bread and is now a science project.”
    “I didn’t make it to the market yesterday.” Again his gaze flicked to the door and his mind to Cybil. “Mostly I call in dinner.”
    “On the phone you don’t answer?”
    “I’ll recharge the battery, Mandy.”
    “See that you do. If you’d remembered sooner, we’d be sitting in the Four Seasons right now, drinking Cristal to celebrate.” She grinned as she leaned on the counter toward him. “I closed the deal, Preston.
A Tangle of Souls
is going to be a major motion picture. You got the producers you wanted, the director you wanted and the option to do the screenplay yourself. All that plus a tidy little fee.”
    She gave him an amount in seven figures.
    “I don’t want them to screw it up,” was Preston’s first reaction.
    “Leave it to you.” Mandy sighed. “If there’s a downside, you find it. So do the screenplay.”
    “No.” He shook his head, walking to the window to try to absorb the news. A film would change the intimacy the play had achieved in the theater. But it would also take his work to millions. And the work mattered to him.
    “I don’t want to go back there, Mandy. Not that deep.”
    She poured two cups of coffee and joined him at the window. “Supervisory capacity. Consultant?”
    “Yeah, that works for me. Fix it, will you?”
    “I can do that. Now, if you’ll stop turning cartwheels and dancing on the ceiling, we can talk about your work in progress.”
    Her dry tone got through, made his lips twitch. He set his coffee on the windowsill, turned and took her sharp-boned face in his hands. “You’re the best, and certainly the most patient agent in the business.”
    “You’re so right. I hope you’re as proud of yourself as I am. Are you going to call your family?”
    “Let me sit on it a couple days.”
    “It’s going to hit the trades, Preston. You don’t want them to hear about it that way.”
    “No, you’re right. I’ll call them.” Finally, he smiled. “After I charge the phone. Why don’t I clean up and take you out for that champagne.”
    “Why don’t you. Oh, one more thing,” she added as he started for the stairs. “Pretty Miss 3A? Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you?”
    “I’m not sure there’s anything to tell,” he murmured.
    * * *
    He still wasn’t sure when he knocked on her door later that evening. But he knew he had to answer for that look he’d put in her eyes.
    Not that it had been any of her business in the first place, he reminded himself. He hadn’t asked her to come nosing around. In fact he’d done everything to discourage her.
    Until last night, he thought, and hissed out a breath.
    Bad judgment, he decided. It had just been bad judgment. He shouldn’t have followed