The Perfect Neighbor by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Children of celebrities, Dramatists, Romance: Modern, MacGregor family (Fictitious characters), New York (N.Y.), Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, General, Large type books, Romance - Contemporary, Fiction - Romance, Women cartoonists, Love stories
ISBN: 9781410403438
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 2008-04-14T15:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

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The house The MacGregor built stood arrogantly on the cliffs above a surging sea. Nothing about the old gray stone was sober. Everything about it, from its spearing towers and jutting turrets, to the snapping flag that carried the crest of the clan, shouted pride.

He had built as he'd intended to, on a sturdy foundation, with grandiose vision. And he had built to last. The wild and rambling roses that would bloom brilliantly come summer did nothing to soften the effect but only added to that sense of magic. "Stop," Preston murmured, and laid a hand on Cybil's arm. "Stop the car." Because she understood, and was pleased to see the sight of that fanciful structure affect him as it always did her, she braked gently. "It's like a fairy tale, isn't it?" She leaned on the steering wheel to study the house through a driving curtain of rain. "Not one of the wimpy G-rated versions, but one with blood and guts." "I've seen photographs. They don't come close." "It's not just a house. It's the most generous of homes. Whenever we visited we'd always find something new. Something marvelous." As she would this time, she thought. With Preston. "It shows well in the rain, doesn't it?" she commented.

"I imagine it always shows well." "You're right. You should see it in the winter. We always come up during Christmas. The snow and the wind turn it into something frozen out of time. And last year, just at the end of summer when the roses were tumbling and the sky was so hard and blue you waited for it to crack like an egg, my cousin Duncan got married here. But in the rain" She smiled dreamily, leaning on the wheel. "It feels like Scotland."

"Have you ever been?" "Mmm. Twice. Have you?" "No." "You should. It's your roots. You'll be surprised how much they tug at you when you breathe the air in the highlands or look out at a lowland loch." "Maybe I will. I might want a couple of weeks to decompress when the play's finished." He turned his head, lifted his eyebrows. "How's the car handling for you?" "Since you've only let me drive it for approximately forty-five seconds, it's difficult to be sure. Now, if you let me take it out for a spin tomorrow" "Even your powers of persuasion aren't going to get you behind the wheel longer than it takes to go up the drive." Cybil shrugged carelessly, thought, We'll see about that , and drove decorously up the hill, parked. "Thank you very much." She gave him a light kiss, and the keys. "You're welcome." "Let's not worry about the bags now. We'll make a dash for it and see how long it takes to have whiskey and scones by the fire." She pushed open the car door, ran like a bullet through the rain, then stopped on the covered porch to shake her head like a wet dog and laugh.

For ten full seconds, he couldn't move.

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