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eBook Category: Romance/Science Fiction
eBook Description: Reporter Cody Walker is driving Roberta Vandenburg crazy. Besides being tall, dark and sexy, with bedroom eyes to die for, Cody refuses to even consider what Roberta is convinced is the solution to his increasingly dangerous problems. What, him abducted by aliens? You've got to be kidding. After all, Cody is just a simple man, as ordinary as toast, as normal as apple pie. It doesn't matter that he can't sleep, he's seeing strange lights, hearing voices, all symptoms that UFO researcher Roberta knows are linked to many of the alien abductions she's investigated. Cody stubbornly resists investigating anything that would put him into the same odd and unpleasant category as his runaway father. But Roberta, frustrated as she may be, doesn't take no for an answer, especially when the survival of the hard-headed man she can't help loving is at stake.

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: http://www.fictionworks.com, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: February 2004

23 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [245 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [203 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [209 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [735 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [235 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [205 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [250 KB] , hiebook (KML) [547 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [301 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [193 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [243 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [45 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [318 KB]
Words: 71267
Reading time: 203-285 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Crazy in Chicago (is) an entertaining romp through the current mythology of UFOs ... Read alone or in conjunction with Blue Dawn (its prequel), Crazy is a satisfying venture into the romantic paranormal."--Katriena Knights, Escape to Romance

"Crazy in Chicago is an excellent science fiction romance. Mix romance with a mystery and alien abduction theories and you have a story you won't want to put down."--Susan Mobley, Romantic Times

Cody Walker sighed and rubbed the palms of both hands down his face. The prickle of stubble told him it wouldn't be long before it was time to get up to shower and shave for work. He could smell the faint tang of the brandy he'd been downing every forty minutes or so in the hope it would lull him to sleep. But no such luck. He was more awake now than he had been at one a.m. when he'd fallen exhausted into bed.

He sighed again. Finally he sat up and swung his feet to the cool oak floor. He glanced at the bedside clock. Four a.m. Four-oh-three to be exact. And still awake. Why couldn't he sleep?

It had been this way for the last six nights. He'd been lucky to get two or three hours of sleep, tops. That was fine for a night or two, but it couldn't go on this way. He couldn't even blame it on muggy wave of heat currently enveloping Chicago. His new apartment might be downtown, but it was also air-conditioned and close to Lake Michigan.

In disgust, he stood up. By the faint light glimmering through the sliding glass doors to his bedroom, he found a pair of nylon jogging shorts and pulled them on. He might as well go outside. He'd read somewhere that looking at water was supposed to be relaxing. Hell, he had one of the largest inland lakes in the world almost at his doorstep. If that didn't work, what would?

He slid open the door to his small rooftop garden, one of the benefits of living on the top floor of an award-winning apartment building. The muggy air hit him with a shock, sucking the air from his lungs and almost propelling him back into his room. Taking another breath, he stepped outside and shut the door. He could understand why anyone without air conditioning might have trouble sleeping tonight. But him? He shook his head, casting away the faint sense of uneasiness rising inside.

The dark sky hung heavy with clouds, obscuring the moon and stars and holding the heat down to the earth like a thermal blanket. Beneath it, the lake visible from his garden was a black, silent mass. Only the faint sounds of distant traffic, and a closer squawk of a horn broke the quiet.

The niggling sense of threat, an unease he couldn't put his finger on but which had been there for days, reasserted itself in the heavy heat. Cody frowned and advanced towards the railing of his garden. He had a full day's work tomorrow and had to--

"...me."

An indistinct voice coming from the other side of the hedge bordering his garden stopped him. He turned and looked. Over the shoulder-high hedge, he could see light streaming from the sliding doors of the apartment next door. He shrugged and continued on.

"Take me. Take me, please."

A female voice, soft and musical, reached through the heavy air. Cody grinned. Well, at least somebody was putting the night to good use.

But Cody had no intention of eavesdropping on his neighbor's love life. He turned to go back inside.

"Take me, goddammit!"

Vibrating with frustration, the demand hung in the night air. Cody stopped again, his curiosity growing. Obviously things weren't going so well for his unseen neighbor.

"Take me, take me, take me," the voice crooned again, this time more calmly.

Cody's curiosity got the better of him. Could it hurt to take a quick peek over the hedge? He'd confirm the presence of the lovers he expected to see, then slip back into his room.

He stole over to the hedge and looked. To his surprise, he saw only one person in the neighboring garden. The small figure lay on a chaise lounge and gazed up at the sky, her arms outstretched. She wore what looked like a tank top and boxer shorts. Light from the door reflected off a mop of golden curls.

Cody suppressed a chuckle. Why, it was just a teenager, playing at some fantasy.

Unconscious of his presence, the girl sighed heavily, then shook her fist at the sky. "Take me, goddammit. Why won't you take me?"

Cody grinned again. He should leave, and leave now, but he couldn't resist. He leaned forward. "If that's what you want, ma'am. At your service."

The small figure shot upright, upsetting the lounge and toppling onto the patio. She squirmed about for a moment before untangling herself and scrambling to her feet.

Clutching a pillow, she looked around wild-eyed, her chest heaving under the skimpy white tank top. "Who's there? What do you want? I'll call the police!"

Cody chuckled. He had trouble not laughing outright. "I'm over here. I'm your next-door neighbor. I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm not a burglar. I got up because I couldn't sleep, then I heard you talking."

Once he knew he had her attention, he cast a cursory glance around the patio. "Who were you talking to?"

Under the golden curls, her face flamed with an embarrassment he couldn't miss even in the dim light. Her round eyes momentarily screwed shut. Although she was small, not more than five foot two, he realized that she must be older than he'd thought, likely in her mid-twenties.

She opened her eyes, but her gaze avoided his. "No one," she gritted out.

He raised his eyebrows, unable to prevent his amusement from surfacing. "No? I distinctly heard your voice."

She clutched the pillow as if it she might crush it. Light glinted off a silver chain around her neck. "I ... I was practicing."

"Oh? You're an actress?" Cody asked innocently.

"Ahh ... not exactly." She hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot, unwittingly drawing his attention to the shapeliness of her bare legs. "Look, I really should go in now. I've got to get some sleep."

She turned to retreat. For a moment he watched the sway of her rounded hips. His neighbor displayed an enticingly feminine shape. A tingle of anticipation and a faint stirring in his lower parts took him by surprise.

"What's your name?"

It was clear from her expression when she faced him again that she desperately wanted to escape. But good manners--and her obvious wish to pretend nothing embarrassing had happened--prevented her from fleeing.

"Bobbi. See you around."

Before Cody could say another word she dashed into her room and shut the door. A second later the lock clicked shut.

In the darkness, Cody shook his head and smiled, surprised to find his fatigue evaporated. Bobbi, was it? So this was his new neighbor. Well, well, well.

Thoughtfully he turned towards his door. He'd never bothered to get to know his neighbors in the past. Maybe it was time he did.

"And now, I'd like to introduce Dr. Garnet Jones, the president of the Society of UFO Watchers, and the chairman of this conference."

Roberta Vandenburg nodded in the direction of her boss, the first of four panelists to discuss the phenomenon of alien abduction. She cleared her throat and stood as straight as possible, trying to maintain the aura of serious calm she believed essential for a moderator--and to utilize every inch of her small stature to lend authority to her position. "Dr. Jones will now tell you about his most recent abduction experience, and what he believes it means."

Straightening her skirt, she sat down and watched Garnet rise. However unusual Garnet's beliefs might be, his appearance projected a reassuring measure of normalcy, an important factor in a field often associated with the lunatic fringe. Garnet wore his steel gray hair and beard short and trimmed; the wire-rimmed glasses, gray trousers, and navy jacket over a white shirt and classic school tie could have been worn by any tall, spindly, English professor.

Roberta turned her attention to the audience of about one hundred. For that matter, the people here looked pretty normal too, with a balance between men and women, scattered throughout all age ranges, and wearing conservative suits, summer dresses, or jeans and T-shirts. They were here--academics, scientists, cultists, proclaimed abductees, doctors and members of the general public--along with another four hundred people from across the country, to attend the society's third national conference on UFOs. So far the conference, which had begun this morning, had attracted only muted and balanced publicity. Thank goodness.

In a manner that Roberta recognized as customary, Garnet focused his piercing gaze on the audience until he had their full attention. A hush fell over the room, and he began.

"As many of you know, I have interacted with extraterrestrials several times, starting when I was a child of seven. The most recent incident, however, frightened me the most. Not only did the aliens subject me to a painful physical examination, but their actions revealed to me for the first time their sinister plans to enslave and use mankind."

Garnet took a deep breath and launched into the story Roberta had heard at least a hundred times in the last two months. She couldn't help but notice the embellishments that had crept in, the layers of meaning he had added since his first terrified recounting of what had happened. Gazing at her boss as he held his audience spellbound, she wondered if he even realized what he'd done. Or perhaps, a small, cynical voice at the back of her mind said, he knew perfectly well.

After a few moments, Roberta stopped listening. She glanced at the other panelists, a female hypno-therapist from Los Angeles, a psychiatrist from Denver noted for his work with air force pilots, and a chemist from Phoenix. She could hardly wait to hear what they had to say, particularly the hypno-therapist.

Garnet had just begun the ascent to his frightening conclusion when the squeal of an opening door at the back of the meeting room cut him off. Scores of heads, Roberta's among them, swiveled to see who had dared to interrupt the acclaimed expert on alien abductions. Garnet glared at the latecomer.

The man, tall and dressed in a tailored gray suit and white shirt, did not appear the least bit cowed by Dr. Jones disapproval. With a faint shrug and a nod of his dark head, he sauntered over to a table holding water and glasses. As he settled himself, he reached into his breast pocket and drew out a pen and noteBook. Only then did Roberta note the buff card identifying media on his lapel.

Garnet recomposed himself and continued. At the same instant, Roberta noted something alarmingly familiar about the reporter's appearance and easy smile. Last night's encounter in her apartment garden flashed through her head. She shuddered. No. Oh, no. It couldn't be! Could it possibly be her neighbor? The man who'd interrupted her frustrated pleading to any listening aliens?

Roberta shut her eyes, then forced herself to open them again. She had to be wrong. Another look would surely prove her wrong. Swallowing, she turned her attention to the man taking notes at the back of the room.

The reporter was tall, at least six feet, about the same height and build as her neighbor had appeared to be in the few seconds she'd seen him this morning. In addition, the man at the back of the room had those careless good looks she associated with the Mediterranean--the olive complexion, eyes as black as night, rich sable hair, and a full, sensuous mouth. But was he the man next door?

Roberta groaned inwardly. She forced her gaze back once more. Maybe she was wrong. After all, she'd been so surprised and embarrassed she'd hardly looked at her neighbor. What she remembered most was the hint of banter in his deep voice. And that wasn't something you could tell just by looking.

The man at the back of the room raised a tanned hand to cover a yawn. Yawning meant he was tired. And hadn't her neighbor said he couldn't sleep? Roberta grimaced.

Nervously she continued to watch for anything that would reveal the truth. She nudged her glasses farther up her nose and patted the blonde hair slicked back from her face. Well, even if it was him, he wouldn't recognize her. After all, Roberta Vandenburg, with her neutral makeup, trim business suit, glasses and severe hairstyle was about as far removed as you could get from Bobbi, the half-dressed, embarrassed girl her neighbor had enjoyed teasing. Perhaps looking like a teenager when you weren't dressed for work had its advantages after all.

Roberta relaxed a little. Even if it was him, he'd never recognize her. She turned her attention to the panelists only to discover Garnet had finished and was staring at her impatiently.

She jumped up and introduced the hypno-therapist. During the spattering of applause, she noted the man at the back hadn't spared her a glance. She sat down, relieved.

Soon Roberta lost herself in the hypno-therapist's comments on hypno-regression. Hypno-regression was a process whereby a hypnotist helped someone regain blocked or forgotten memories. In his investigations, Garnet often used it to help uncover the details of the commonly blocked experience of alien abduction. But what Roberta found disturbing was the woman's contention that not only forgotten memories but forgotten fantasies could be recovered through hypnosis. The question was, of course, how did one distinguish between fantasy and true memory?

The chemist's talk about analysis of soil samples and vegetation growth patterns near UFO landing sites was more clinical, but certainly supported the society's contention that aliens had been visiting Earth for centuries. The psychiatrist presented a number of common character traits among abductees, though he was careful to refrain from committing himself to a belief in UFOs or alien abductions.

As usual, the question period included everything from scientific questions to descriptions of strange experiences thinly disguised as those of a "friend." After fifteen minutes, Roberta cut it off, thanked the panelists, and reminded everyone of the lunchtime speaker.

As the room emptied, Roberta packed papers into her briefcase. She had to get back to the conference office. At least two tracks of workshops ran throughout each day, and it was her job to ensure they proceeded without a hitch. There were a thousand details, each crucial to the success of the conference, and all lacking in glamor or recognition. Not that she cared, she reminded herself. But it would be nice once, just once, if someone noticed how much or how well she did her work. Perhaps one day she'd lead an investigation into a fascinating case of alien abduction. Then everything would be different. She visualized an attentive audience hanging on her every word as she outlined how she had doggedly pursued and proven every aspect of an extraterrestrial abduction.

"Miss?"

The mellow voice cut into her imaginings and set off a shudder of recognition. With great reluctance Roberta raised her head--and looked directly into the smiling black eyes of the man she knew she most wanted to avoid.

"It's ... it's Miss Vandenburg," she stammered.

The beginnings of a smile she didn't think she was going to like played around the corners of the full, sensuous mouth she had noted earlier.

"Can I help you?" She rushed on. "If it's Dr. Jones you'd like to speak to, I can--"

He didn't let her finish. "I could have sworn you were my neighbor." His eyes, a brown so rich and dark it appeared almost black, danced with laughter. "Bobbi, isn't it?"

The use of the childhood name she'd reverted to in her embarrassment this morning made her feel as if she were standing there in her tank top and boxers all over again. A flush raced up her neck.

"No one calls me that any more," she sputtered.

"But you are the Bobbi I met this morning?" he persisted. "In your garden right beside mine? About four a.m."

Roberta almost groaned aloud. "Yes," she muttered. "Now, if you'd like I can--"

"My name is Cody. Cody Walker."

He put out his hand. Roberta stared at it, then finally she reached forward. His tanned hand closed around hers, quickly and crisply, then released it.

He bit his full lower lip. He was laughing at her again, damn him! Before she could say anything, he continued.

"I'm a reporter with The Streeter. I'm attending the conference, but it's really just a starting point for a series I plan to write about UFOs, aliens, and conspiracy theories."

Roberta's sinking heart hit bottom. The Streeter! It was bad enough a newspaper reporter had caught her venting her frustrations. But a reporter from The Streeter, a paper that always played up the most sensational angles? She didn't even want to think about what that might mean.

If her dismay were visible, he ignored it. "So what's your role here? Besides moderating this panel?"

"I'm Dr. Jones's assistant," she said stiffly. "Among other things, my job is to organize this conference each year."

"So you're the one to ask if I have any questions, right?" He smiled, with a charm that could melt steel. It certainly did strange things to her stomach.

"Yes ... but ... oh!

Roberta's voice rose in alarm. Before her eyes, all color had drained from Cody's face. He staggered towards her. Her hand shot out to steady him.

"Are you all right?"

"No ... yes." He straightened, shook his head, and blinked. He ran one hand over his face, then blinked again as the color began to return. "I'm ... I'm fine now."

Roberta realized she still clutched his arm. She dropped it.

Cody looked at his watch. "Gotta go. Want to catch that session on UFOs throughout history."

He winked at her. "See you around."

Roberta watched as he hurried from the room, his confident stride showing no sign of the fleeting faintness. She was worried, though. What did he mean, "See you around?"

Her imagination went into overdrive.

At five minutes to midnight, Roberta limped off the elevator to her apartment, her pumps in one hand, her briefcase in the other. The Adam's Mark Hotel might not be the largest convention hotel in Chicago, but she felt as if she'd walked twenty miles. After next to no sleep last night, she was exhausted.

She dropped her shoes onto the carpeted floor outside her door and fumbled in her shoulder bag for the keys. She could almost feel the mattress rising to greet her. Nothing would keep her awake tonight.

Key in the lock, she paused to listen to the strains of music filtering into the hallway. Yes, that was Jackson Browne, singing Lives in the Balance. She'd always loved that song. She returned her attention to the door, then realized the music came from her next door neighbor's apartment. Cody Walker's. The reporter!

She checked out his door. A line of light shone from under it. Between the music and the light, he must still be up--and she had to talk to him. She'd tried unsuccessfully all afternoon and into the evening to reach him, first at The Streeter, and then at the home number directory assistance had given her.

Wavering, she looked at his door. She was tired. She didn't feel like talking. But this was important. Visions of the sensational headlines that might result if she didn't act now flashed through her head. She groaned. Maybe she was already too late.

Gritting her teeth, she opened her door and threw the briefcase inside. She stuffed her swollen feet back into her three-inch heels. She had to do it, and she might as well do it now. Garnet would kill her if anything happened to turn his beloved conference into a laughingstock.

She tapped on Cody's door. She waited, five seconds, ten, fifteen. She raised her hand to knock again when the door was flung open. Thrown off balance, she teetered on her heels before grabbing for the door frame.

She righted herself to find Cody staring at her in surprise. Only this wasn't the Cody Walker of this morning, the confident professional doing his job and taking a moment to tease her. Nor was it the earlier Cody, a distressingly sexy shadow in the morning darkness. This Cody looked tired and edgy, from the mussed hair and the circles under his eyes, to the dark stubble on his less-than-welcoming face. To make matters worse, he was all but naked.

Roberta's eyes zeroed in on his black nylon running shorts. Tiny, black nylon running shorts. His muscled chest, about six inches from her face, was covered with a whorl of black hair arrowing down to his shorts. She dropped her gaze, to his long, tanned legs, and to his equally bare feet. Then realized she hadn't a clue how to return her gaze to his face without making it obvious that she'd just taken an extended tour of his body--and enjoyed the sights.

Gulping, she raised her flaming face. He smiled, the change of expression transforming him from tired and grumpy to tired and seductive. Far too seductive.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

His apparent lack of recognition irked her. Could he have forgotten already? Maybe she wasn't his female equivalent in the tall and sexy department, but she wasn't chopped liver either. And they had talked for several minutes this morning.

"I'm your next door neighbor, remember? You met me at the SUFOW conference this morning. If it's all right, I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

He grinned tiredly. "Bobbi. Sure. Come in. There's no reason to stand out in the hall."

There was every reason to stay in the hall, Roberta thought, but it was probably smarter to do as he said. She had no idea how this conversation would go. She didn't want a full-blown fight out in the hallway.

Roberta entered and he closed the door.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"Maybe I'd better sit down." She needed time to marshal her thoughts. She glanced around the apartment, a mirror-image of her own, yet so different. Where hers was cozy and cluttered with items of sentimental and comfort value, his was sparsely furnished in a cool, masculine, but almost unlived-in style. She chose a single straight-back chair from which to launch her discussion, rather than one of the deep burgundy Italian leather couches surrounding a coffee table topped with polished granite.

Cody leaned against the bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the living area. He reached for a half-full glass of water and took a gulp. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No. No thanks. Actually I'm surprised you're still up."

He rested his forearms against the bar, unself-consciously giving her the opportunity to view his lean, tanned body in all its splendor. "Oh. Why is that?"

"It's just--well you mentioned something about not sleeping last night. And for a moment there this morning you looked as if you were going to pass out. Are you all right now?"

He took another swig of water. Was it her imagination, or had his expression suddenly become guarded?

"I haven't been sleeping too well for the last week. That's all." His raven eyes narrowed. "But I don't think you came here at midnight to inquire about my health."

"No. You're right." Roberta hesitated. "What I wanted to ask was what kind of story you planned to write about the conference, and about SUFOW."

He threw back his head and laughed. Disconcerted, she stared at him. What was so funny?

He stopped laughing and smiled with undisguised amusement. "Ah, yes. You don't trust me, do you? Smart girl. You should never trust a reporter."

Roberta frowned. She liked his comment even less than his laughter. But she'd come this far, she might as well persevere. "So what did you write?"

He raised the glass of water to his lips again before replying. The corners of his midnight eyes crinkled attractively. "You know, I could tell you to phone my editor. That's the stock answer we give to queries of that sort. But I won't."

His expression relaxed. "You're my neighbor after all, and a rather interesting neighbor, too. So I'll tell you. I haven't written anything yet. The Streeter has another reporter covering the conference and writing stories on some of the better-known speakers and topics. I'm just there to pick up information and leads for the series I'm working on. You're unlikely to see any stories from me for a couple of weeks."

Breath Roberta hadn't known she was holding escaped in a long sigh. Relief seeped through her. He wouldn't use last night's embarrassing incident. He....

Relief smacked into a brick wall as a new idea upset her. Just because her neighbor wasn't using that incident now, didn't mean he wouldn't use it later. Like it or not, she'd have to probe further to discover his intentions.

She took a deep breath. "Ah ... you know last night..." She searched for the right words. "Last night when I uh, when you said hello over the hedge?"

That provocative grin, the one that inspired in Roberta a strange mix of dread and anticipation, returned to his face. "Yes?"

"You aren't ... you won't ... I mean. Oh, dammit, you weren't thinking of using that in a story, were you?"

His forehead creased with puzzlement. "In a story? Why would I do that?"

With a sinking heart, Roberta realized the truth. Cody hadn't a clue what she'd been doing out there last night. By bringing up the subject, she was only making it more likely he would find out--and use the scene to ridicule SUFOW.

She swallowed and tried to feign lack of concern. "Oh, I don't know. Well, thanks for your time. I'll be going now."

She rose and started to the door, praying she'd escape before he asked any more questions.

"So what were you doing out there anyway? You said no one was there. Who were you talking to?"

Roberta bit her lip. How could she brush him off? Slowly she pivoted.

Cody leaned back against the counter, his sinuous arms stretched out on either side. His eyes gleamed with a suspect light, and his lips turned up in a faint smile. He spoke quietly. "It's all right, Bobbi. You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm flattered that you issued an invitation to join you in your bed, even if you didn't know I was listening."

Roberta's eyes widened. What stunning conceit! "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "I'd never even seen you before. I was addressing aliens--"

She sputtered to a stop. She'd done it now. If only....

"Aliens?" Cody straightened. "Did you say aliens?" Surprise, then puzzlement crossed his face, followed by a flash of understanding.

He stepped towards her. "You don't mean to say that you were asking aliens to abduct you?" Incredulity echoed in his voice.

"It's not what you think."

"You mean there's some kind of sexual overtones I'm missing here? That you have an alien lover, perhaps?"

"No!" Roberta shrieked. Things were going from bad to worse. She grasped the chain around her neck, the chain holding the medal of St. Jude, the patron of hopeless causes, and telegraphed a wordless plea for help. Should she try to explain that her words were the result of frustrating weeks of overwork, tension and a complete lack of recognition by her boss of her contribution to the conference? Or would that just make everything worse?

"It's not what you think," she repeated. She struggled to find a way to explain that wouldn't make her look sillier than she already did. "It's just--haven't you ever thought when things were piling up all around you that it might be easier to just disappear off the face of the Earth? I was just ... just voicing my frustrations."

Like a knife slashing through a curtain, every trace of humor disappeared from Cody's face. Quietly, and with a seriousness that puzzled Roberta, he said, "Disappearing is never a good answer to anything. No matter how bad things seem around you. Believe me, I know."

Set aback by his change in tone, Roberta decided to take one more crack at convincing him to keep her secret. "Then ... then you won't write about what I said in the garden last night?"

His gaze swept over her. With deliberate slowness, his lips curved upward in a killer smile. Despite the deep shadows under his eyes, they gleamed with good-natured humor.

"You're right. It would make an incredibly damning story. The scantily-clad assistant to the head of SUFOW begging aliens to take her in the middle of the night. The tabloids could have a field day with that one."

He surveyed her again, taking his time. He didn't move. He didn't touch her. But his slow, considering gaze set every nerve in her body on edge. Roberta didn't know whether it was in anticipation or fear.

"But I don't think so," he continued. His smile grew broader, and a lazy drawl she hadn't noticed before insinuated itself into his speech. "At least not yet."

He moved towards her with the sinuousness of a leopard, his claws sheathed but danger still lurking below the surface. A foot away from her, he stopped and leaned against the wall.

"It would be very unneighborly, don't you think?"

The eyes holding hers gleamed with the richness of dark velvet. For one breathless moment Roberta feared he meant to kiss her.

The moment passed. He straightened and smiled again. "Besides, I'm going to need a lot of information over the next couple of weeks. Names, numbers, theories. You name it. And who better to help me than my little neighbor, the one with a secret she's desperate to keep."