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shove the couch back to the wall.”
    Cody complied, and they had the couch back against the wall with a minimum of effort. When he straightened, he studied her. “Why do you want to lose weight? You look fine to me. Very fine, actually.”
    Roberta turned away to hide the color she could feel rushing into her face. It was nice he thought she looked good. But men always said stupid things like that. Then ran off after the next tall, gorgeous woman to come along. “Here, I’ll get that milk for you now,” she said. “Why don’t you go out and sit in the garden?”
    As she poured Cody a tall glass of milk, and herself a diet lemonade, she heard the sliding door open. The sounds of the city at night permeated her apartment. She sighed. She’d feel a lot better if she knew why Cody was here. Did he want to talk about UFOs? Was it as simple as wanting a little company? Could he possibly be interested in her?
    She snorted at the last thought. Men who looked as good as him, and were as charming and well-employed, usually didn’t need to knock on a neighbor’s door for company. And as for being interested in her, he probably had women lined up from here to his office. No, it had to be work-related.
    She lifted the tray and headed for the garden. But still, Cody puzzled her. For someone she’d just met, he seemed far more familiar than he should. As if she’d known him. But from where?
    She slid open the door and slipped out. The object of her thoughts stood by the parapet, his back to her, broad shoulders filling the Bulls T-shirt, and legs akimbo in a blatantly masculine stance. Only the rich brown hair curling in little-boy fashion at the nape of his neck hinted at some sort of vulnerability, a chink in the perfect picture—the kind of thing that always, unfortunately, attracted Roberta. She frowned. And why did he seem so familiar?
    She shook her head and set the tray on a white metal table. “One milk, coming up.”
    Cody slid into a chair across from her, grasped the glass, then looked up with mock surprise. “What? You didn’t heat it up?”
    Roberta rolled her eyes. “Don’t push your luck. At least I had two per cent milk for a change, and not that watery skim milk I drink most the time.” She made a face and muttered, “Heat your milk. You’ve got to be kidding.”
    â€œActually, I’m not. I love warm milk. But this will do just fine.” He picked up the glass and downed half of it in one long gulp. When he set it down, he wore a milk mustache. Unself-consciously he licked part of it off, then wiped off the rest with the back of his hand.
    He looked up and caught her watching him. She flushed; he grinned.
    â€œOh no. Are you going to throw me out because my table manners are bad?”  
    Disconcerted, Roberta scrambled for a plausible excuse for staring. “No, I was just thinking you’d look good in one of those milk commercials. You know, the ones where famous people are shown wearing milk mustaches?”
    â€œA commercial, huh? That’s probably more up your boss’s line. He seems to love the spotlight.” Cody’s eyes twinkled. “Too bad you’re not drinking milk. We could compare moustaches.”
    Roberta smiled nervously. Was he flirting? Why didn’t he just get down to business? He’d already made a comment about Garnet. Maybe she should ask him outright.
    Before she could say anything, Cody resolved the question. Pushing his glass aside, he crossed his arms on the table top and leaned towards her. “Speaking of your boss, how’d you ever come to work for the illustrious Dr. Garnet Jones?”
    Something in his tone made her wary. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d defended her boss. She was used to Garnet’s peremptory and sometimes arrogant ways; he often offended people who didn’t know him. “I answered an ad in the paper,” she