More Than Neighbors (7 page)

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he apologized once more, pursing his lips.

“Glad to hear it,” she remarked, though she wasn’t sure whether he was being serious. God! It had been a long time since a kiss had affected her so much.

“I’ll leave now.”

“Right.” When Leopold was at the door, she added, “Leopold Sinclair. You have dared to tempt fate once again.” He looked at her, confused, but Cat continued in the same booming tone, as if she were Cassandra herself prophesying the future. “I already told you that anyone who kisses me falls in love with me.”

“Well, nothing of the sort happened last time.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said solemnly.

“Oh, I won’t. Good night, Catalina. I hope this doesn’t mean you won’t play chess with me anymore.”

“I don’t know, Leo. Maybe we should wait a while before our next game. We have a friendship of sorts now, and I’d hate to spoil that.”

“I understand.” He tried to hide his disappointment. “Good night, Catalina.”

“Good night, Leo.”

Back in his apartment, Leo decided to take a cold shower, since he could still feel the excitement of the kiss with his neighbor. He couldn’t understand what in the blazes had happened; all he knew was that he’d ruined everything. He was convinced that Catalina was nothing more than a friend—he liked knowing that when he returned home he could pay her a visit and play a game of chess. Sometimes, while he was away on business, he found himself feeling anxious to get back home and spend time chatting with her. He’d never had that kind of relationship with a woman before; it was a bit like talking to Harry, though he’d never felt the same pleasure looking at his friend’s face as he did when he admired Catalina’s delicate features.

He remembered with surprise how hard it had been to separate himself from her. For a few very, very long minutes, he had only been able to think of how much he would have liked to lift her and carry her to the nearest bed, to stroke her long legs and the silky skin of her neck, to run his fingers through her gleaming hair . . . He shook his head, trying to banish those thoughts, and turned down the water temperature even more.

It wasn’t that he was attracted to his neighbor. Goodness, how absurd! He admitted she was pleasant to talk to, but nothing more. The problem, surely, was that he hadn’t slept with a woman for quite some time. Since he’d broken up with Alison, he hadn’t been out with anyone else, and human nature, after all, was human nature.

Content with this explanation, Leopold turned off the water and dried himself. He’d space out his visits, as Catalina had suggested. It would be a shame, but it would be better to give up chess for a while than to get involved with a woman who so often drove him around the bend.

Finally feeling more relaxed, he lay on the bed and tried to sleep, but it was as if he could still feel the soft touch of her lips on his, passionately responding to his caresses. With a grunt of frustration, Leopold hugged his pillow to him and sunk his face into it. He’d better ask Harry to introduce him to that woman he’d told him about as soon as possible.

CHAPTER 8

By mid-December, the temperature was so low that when Cat took Milo out for a walk, she had to wear several layers of clothing, as well as a warm hat, woolen scarf, and thick ski gloves.

Leopold hadn’t been to her apartment since the night he had kissed her. However, Cat had seen him a couple of times, on his way out, dressed very elegantly, so she deduced that he’d resumed his social life. She couldn’t complain; she’d been going to Christmas lunches and dinners since late November and was beginning to feel up to her eyes in so much food. She was also very busy with the play that her students were going to put on before the holidays. As the art teacher, she was responsible for the wardrobe and set, and though she was really enjoying the work, she barely had time for anything else.

She was surprised, then, to hear the doorbell ring on a Friday when she had decided to stay home to add the finishing touches to one of the sets. She carefully set her paintbrush on the palette and went to the door, wiping her hands with her painting rag.

“Oh, hi, Leo! It’s nice to see you again,” she greeted him, noting her neighbor’s haggard appearance. He looked exhausted, his short hair was a mess, his eyes were swollen and glassy, and despite his bronzed skin, he looked rather pale. “Are you all right?” Concerned, she stepped aside to let him in.

“No, not really. I’m sorry to bother you, Catalina, but I came to ask you for an aspirin or something. I couldn’t find anything at home.”

“Have you just got back from somewhere?”

“Yes, I’ve been in Sydney. I’m a bit tired,” he confessed, rubbing his forehead wearily.

“You don’t say. You look dreadful.”

“Why, thank you.” He made a face.

“Come in and sit down before you pass out. If you drop, I won’t be able to lift you off the floor.” He was so exhausted he obeyed without complaint. Collapsing onto one of the comfortable sofas in the living room, he closed his eyes. He opened them again when he felt a cool hand rest on his forehead; Cat sat beside him, observing him with a frown. “You’re burning up.”

“It’s nothing. Give me a pill and I’ll leave you in peace.” He tried to be strong, despite feeling like a mangled dishcloth.

“You need to start looking after yourself, Leo. If you keep this up, you’ll catch pneumonia. Shut it. Don’t say a word!” she ordered, seeing him open his mouth to respond. “I’ll bring you something.”

She ran to the kitchen, warmed a cup of milk in the microwave, added a teaspoon of honey, and took a bottle of Paracetamol from the cupboard. She put everything on a tray and returned to the living room. Though he’d loosened his tie, he was still lying on the sofa with his eyes closed. When he heard her set the tray on the table, he opened his eyes again with some difficulty. “I don’t want . . .” He pointed at the cup of milk.

“Drink it or I’ll make you!”

Leopold saw her threatening expression and didn’t argue.

“Very well. You’re worse than a nanny,” he grumbled, not wanting to admit that, deep down, it felt nice to have someone worry about him for a change.

He drank the milk and took a couple of the pills that Cat placed in his hand, and almost immediately, he began to feel better. He felt so relaxed lying there that just thinking about getting to his feet and returning to the solitude of his apartment made him shiver.

“You’re trembling.” His neighbor seemed to have read his mind. “You can’t spend the night alone in your apartment—you’d better stay here.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, teeth chattering.

“You can sleep on the sofa!” Her tone left no room for argument, and again he felt incapable of objecting. “I’ll help you with your clothes.”

She first took off his spotless black shoes and socks, then helped him remove his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. Leopold took hold of her hands in a feeble attempt to stop her, but Catalina easily freed them from his clasp and continued her task in a briskly efficient way. Then she undid his belt, but when Leo noticed her skillful fingers trying to undo the button on his pants, his protests became more forceful. “Don’t worry, I have three older brothers. I’ve lost count of the times I helped my mother undress them when they came home drunk.”

Leopold stared at her delicate, calm face, framed by silky brown waves of hair. “I can take off my trousers. I’m not an invalid.”

“Suit yourself.”

Catalina discreetly looked away while he finished unbuttoning them and then took them off with some difficulty. He tugged a soft tartan blanket from one of the arms of the sofa and pulled it over himself, covering his half-naked body. Cat placed a pillow under his head and pulled the blanket up a bit farther. “You should sleep; it’ll be the best thing for you right now,” she said, kneeling by the sofa as she gently brushed the hair from his brow.

Her careful touch gave him a pleasant feeling of well-being. He closed his eyes and, before long, was sleeping like a newborn baby.

Around dawn, a pair of arms helped him sit up a little, and he rested his head on a woman’s chest. A soft voice spoke in his ear. “Open your mouth.” He obeyed and someone put a pill on his tongue and held a glass of water to his lips, which he drank from thirstily. Then he was helped back down onto the pillow and tucked in. Leopold immediately fell asleep, and when he woke again, quite a bit later judging by the light coming in through the window, he felt much better.

“Your temperature seems to have gone down.” Cat was kneeling beside him with her hand on his forehead. Leo sat up and surveyed her. She had her hair up in a ponytail, there was paint on her face, and some old jeans were visible under an apron that had once been white. Despite everything, he thought her one of the most pleasant visions to which he’d ever woken up. He stroked his chin, noticing, to his discomfort, the roughness of his morning stubble, and realized that he must look a mess.

“I have to go home for a shower.”

“Not so fast. You must eat breakfast first.”

“How you love to give orders!” he protested.

“Feeling like yourself again, I see,” Catalina remarked with an amused look. “Last night, you were as obedient as a little lamb.” Leopold found the comparison belittling, but let it go. “I’m going to make you a proper breakfast,” Cat announced.

While she bustled about in the kitchen, Leo took the opportunity to put on his shirt and pants, though he only fastened a few shirt buttons. When Cat returned with an immense tray of food she’d prepared, it struck her that her neighbor looked very appealing first thing in the morning. With his messy hair, his broad chest barely covered by the shirt, and stubble on his face, he looked straight out of a particularly sexy edition of
Tatler
. In short, Leopold Sinclair was one of the most captivating men she’d ever met.
Shame he’s taken
, she thought, shrugging her shoulders.

“Thank you so much, Catalina. I admit I could eat an ox, hooves and all.”

On the tray there were scrambled eggs, sausages, toast, marmalade and butter, and strong coffee that Leopold found delicious. Seeing her contentedly watching him while he eagerly ate, he felt a little embarrassed and asked, “Are you not having anything?”

“I had breakfast a few hours ago; I took Milo out for a walk and did some shopping.”

When there were just a few crumbs left on the tray, Leopold gave her a satisfied look and thanked her. “You’re welcome, Leo.” Catalina smiled at him sweetly. “That’s what friends are for.”

Her words bothered him for some reason, but he didn’t let it show. “I’m glad we’re friends. Will you show me what you’re painting now?”

“I’m finishing some set panels for a play my students are performing at their Christmas party.” Cat led him to a room he’d never been in before. It was almost empty, and the floor was covered in large plastic sheets, splattered with paint. A broad shaft of sunlight came in through the curtainless windows, and a wooden easel stood by an old table covered in paint tubes, brushes, and glass jars.

“So this is your studio.” Leopold looked around with interest.

“Yeah. I’m fortunate to have a place like this to paint in. The light’s fabulous.”

Leo approached one of the large panels resting against the easel. A forest was painted on it, and he felt that at any moment a flock of chirping birds would emerge from the panel and fly in all directions. “You’re a fabulous artist!” he exclaimed with admiration.

Catalina was flattered. “It’s just a simple set for an amateur production,” she said with false modesty.

He remained standing in front of the panel, fascinated. “Will you show me one of your paintings?” he cajoled once again.

She shook her head, looking amused. “Now I see why you’re such a good businessman, Leo. You’re like a bulldog with its teeth locked on its prey: when you want something, you don’t let go until you get it.”

“You know me too well already, Catalina. Come on, show me one.”

He gazed at her beseechingly, and for a moment, Cat was reminded of Milo’s expectant look whenever she wandered near where his leash was kept. Unable to resist Leo, she shrugged and gave a resigned sigh. “Very well—I can readily imagine how often you use that look.” She didn’t miss the self-satisfied smile that spread across his firm lips, and she had to stop herself from smiling along with him.

She walked over to one of the walls where a large number of canvases were leaning, facing away from them. She looked through them and eventually pulled out a medium-sized one and positioned it near the window so that light fell straight onto it.

Leopold walked over and examined it closely. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but the painting both surprised him and, at the same time, seemed very Catalina Stapleton. It was a landscape midway between abstract and realist. The young woman had captured a fleeting, light-filled scene using vibrant brushstrokes, as full of vitality as herself, and Sinclair felt powerfully moved.

Cat studied his face, trying to figure out what was going through his mind, and she was very satisfied with his reaction. Finally, Leo looked up from the painting. “It’s good,” he proclaimed, staring her in the eyes, “very good.”

Catalina returned his gaze, contented, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout her body. “Thanks.”

“Diego’s right. You should exhibit.”

“Maybe I will, one day,” she said absent-mindedly.

Leopold stared at her without saying a word, and Cat fidgeted uncomfortably under the weight of his stern look, which seemed to see right through her.

Catalina awkwardly tried to change the subject. “You’d better go and take that shower.”

Perhaps he was beginning to get used to her dismissals, because, for once, Leo didn’t seem to mind that his neighbor wanted to get rid of him. “Suit yourself, Catalina, but think about it. Sometimes you just have to face up to your fears.” With those parting words, he picked up his jacket, shoes, and socks, and, barefoot, made for the door. Before leaving, he turned and took her hand in his, gently holding it to his lips and kissing it. “Thank you, Catalina.”

After he’d gone, Cat stood at the door in something of a daze. It was the first time she’d shown one of her paintings to anyone other than Diego; not even her best friend Fiona had seen any of her work. Why she’d chosen to give that honor to her uptight neighbor, she couldn’t understand, but she had been surprised by the spellbound look she’d seen in his eyes as he examined the painting. She was glad she hadn’t been wrong the first time she’d met him; now she was sure that under his cool and distant exterior was a man with a rich emotional interior.