More Than Neighbors

by Isabel Keats

  Catalina sat opposite him, dishing him a sizeable plate of pasta before serving herself, then expectantly put a forkful in her mouth. “Mmm, delicious.” Cat savored the combination of flavors with her eyes closed, making Leopold feel absurdly proud.

  In spite of Leopold’s fears, supper was a success. They chatted about various subjects, and, though in many cases their opinions were far from similar, their conversation was animated. He enjoyed the novel experience of talking to a woman without worrying about impressing her, and he thought that Catalina, when she wasn’t trying to annoy him, was vivacious and charming. The idea of being friends with her appealed to him; he’d never had a female friend.

  “I have some great news,” she suddenly announced.

  “Oh?” He had to blink to avoid being dazzled by the golden radiance in her eyes.

  “An anonymous patron bought Peter’s painting. Do you know how much they paid for it?” she asked with her mouth full, waving her fork and knife around.

  “No idea.” Leopold thought of the canvas that hung on one of his bedroom walls.

  “Enough to renovate the building and still have a bit left over for other projects.” His neighbor shone with enthusiasm.

  “Gosh, that’s fantastic.”

  “It’s incredible. It often seems as if we live in a terrible, self-seeking world in which we’re all too busy to think about anyone but ourselves, but then when things get really bad, a generous soul always seems to step forward to lend a hand.”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic.” Leopold shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “And you’re a cynic,” Cat retorted, her indignation evident.

  “I’ve been living in the real world for a long time, and I know things aren’t as rosy as you make out.” He brought his glass to his lips, impassive.

  “Well, you’re wrong, and that painting’s the proof.” Cat gave him a triumphant look.

  When they had finished eating, Catalina didn’t let him clear so much as a fork. She took everything to the kitchen and told him she’d wash up later. Then she removed the tablecloth and brought out a chessboard, setting it with her Uncle Paul’s antique ivory pieces. “I don’t think my head’s very clear after such a feast and the glass of wine.”

  “Excuses,” he replied. “I’ve just got back from New York and I’ve eaten and drunk more than you.” Though not much more, he thought to himself, remembering how his neighbor had gone back for seconds and thirds. The fact was that cooking for a woman like her, someone who actually enjoyed the food—unlike Alison, who would just pick at it with her fork—was a real pleasure.

  “White or black?” she asked.

  “You choose.”

  Cat chose white and started the game. The young woman was amused by the look of concentration on Leopold’s face. She had a sudden desire to stretch out her hand and smooth out his furrowed brow. It reminded her of Uncle Paul’s face when he first taught her to play—clearly both men took their chess very seriously.

  She sighed. She’d rather be playing a different kind of game with her attractive neighbor, but she didn’t enjoy coming between a couple. She’d also already decided that Leo should be an altruistic project, and if she got romantically involved with him, her selfless mission would lose its purpose. She sighed again and tried to focus on the game.

  Leopold heard her sigh and thought he had her on the ropes. He watched her study the board, her elbows resting on the table and her pointed chin cupped in her hands. Once again, he admired her beauty; perhaps he should behave like a gentleman and let her win without making it obvious. Just then, Catalina stretched out her hand, with its long, slender fingers, devoid of rings, and half-heartedly picked up a piece and moved it a few squares. “Check,” she said.

  He couldn’t believe it. Leopold looked at the board and saw that he was indeed on the verge of losing the game. He quickly forgot his gentlemanly impulses and began playing as if his life depended on it; he would need to use all his skill to have a chance at winning. Almost an hour had passed before he heard himself say, in a voice that sounded almost tremulous, “Checkmate!”

  “Well done, Leo.”

  He looked at her suspiciously, and all of a sudden a terrible thought sprang to mind. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”

  Wide-eyed, with an expression so innocent that Leopold immediately distrusted her, she said, “Leopold Sinclair! Don’t talk rubbish!”

  Leo tried to think back to the last few moves, but Cat took the opportunity to quickly put away the board and pieces. “Leo, you must be tired after your trip. You should get some sleep.”

  He couldn’t believe it! For the second time since he’d met her, his neighbor was trying to get rid of him. If she kept this up, his self-esteem would take a nosedive, especially now that he was convinced that the sassy witch had let him win to get the game over and done with.

  “All right, I’ll go. But for the record, this doesn’t end here. We’ll play again.”

  “Whenever you like,” she replied, practically dragging him to the door.

  “Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?” he asked, bemused.

  “Because I’m starting to have naughty thoughts.” Cat gave him a teasing smile and, without giving him time to ask what she meant, she closed the door in his face.

  Leopold stood there, his eyes fixed on the wooden door, as he tried to figure out what she’d meant. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in his head and he caught her meaning. His breathing quickened, but he chalked it up to exasperation and vowed that he’d pay his fiendish neighbor back: not only would he soundly beat her at chess, leaving no doubt as to his superiority, but he’d also make her ask for forgiveness for having twice thrown out Leopold John Saint Clair Sinclair of Hallcourt Abbey. With these intentions in mind, he returned home, got ready for bed, and immediately fell asleep.

  Meanwhile, his neighbor cleared up the remains of their dinner next door. As she loaded the dishwasher, Cat wondered what had come over her. She understood Leopold’s confusion, since she had surprised herself with her behavior.

  At one point, she’d lifted her eyes from the chessboard and seen him sitting there, looking very serious, repeatedly running his fingers through his gray hair until each short tuft pointed in a different direction. His silvery eyes shone with excitement when he saw his next move, and she found him so attractive that she had to hold onto the arms of her chair to stop herself from leaning over the table and planting a kiss on those firm lips, neither too full nor too thin, that seemed to be calling to her.

  Perhaps she should simply stop seeing her snooty neighbor, who really became quite adorable when he lost some of his snootiness. She wasn’t ready to get involved with a man, adorable or otherwise, so maybe she’d better not play with fire. It wasn’t that she was averse to playing games—she would have loved to flirt with him, steal a kiss here and a hug there—but Leopold was clearly not a man who liked being manipulated, and she knew that trying would lead to trouble.

  At any rate, from the little he’d told her, it appeared he was close to marrying the stunning Alison. Cat slammed the dishwasher door shut and promised herself that nothing would happen between them that wasn’t completely innocent. Proud of her resolution, she turned on the dishwasher and went to bed.

  The following weeks passed with a pleasant regularity: Cat went about her normal routine, and often crossed paths with her neighbor. Every now and then, Leopold would show up unannounced with a box of chocolates or a bottle of champagne and challenge her to a game of chess. If she was in the mood, they’d play for hours, until one of them lost.

  Unsurprisingly, his neighbor proved to be an experienced player, and Leo was forced to draw on all his skill to beat her, though she still won half the time. On one of the occasions when she’d beaten him, Cat saw his devastated expression as he stared at the board, and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

/>   “It’s not becoming to celebrate a win by laughing at the loser,” he said sternly, his back held rigid.

  “You should see your face. Then you’d understand why I’m laughing.” Her brown eyes flashed with mischief.

  Leo gave her an aggrieved look but chose to change the subject. “Last Wednesday, I rang your bell to see if you wanted a game. You weren’t in.”

  “I wasn’t?” Cat replied coolly.

  “It must’ve been around eight . . .”

  She just smiled at him.

  “Then I came by again at nine. You were still out.”

  “Heavens!”

  Leopold couldn’t stand the way Catalina teased him, but much to his regret he was unable to let the matter rest. “And I came back at ten—”

  “Let me guess!” she cut in pertly, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “I wasn’t in!”

  “Not even at eleven.”

  “Come on, Leo, leave it be. I won’t let you behave like a frustrated old bachelor because your chess partner was out when you felt like a game.”

  Frustrated old bachelor! The little minx sure knew how to hit a nerve. “I’m no singleton, much less a frustrated one!” he countered pathetically.

  “Of course you’re not, Leo. I didn’t mean to offend you, it was just an innocent comment.” She attempted to appease him, as if he were a small child.

  Angry, he pushed his chair back and stood. “You’re beginning to seriously annoy me,” he warned.

  “Ooh, I’m scared!” Cat began to clear away the chess set.

  “You should be.” He deftly grabbed one of her arms and swiveled her toward him.

  “All right, I’m terrified.” She opened her eyes wide in feigned dread.

  “You simply don’t know when to shut up, do you, Catalina?”

  “Actually,” she began, but Leopold didn’t let her finish. His eyes flashing silver, he put his arm around her waist, lifted her chin with urgent fingers, and kissed her passionately. At first, she didn’t resist because she was so surprised, but then she suddenly felt as if red-hot lava was pumping through her veins and her lips parted. The kiss deepened. After a while, Leopold, suffering an intense inner struggle, broke away panting. She was glad he was still holding her because she was certain that, had he not been, her legs would have given way and she would have fainted to the floor like a Victorian damsel.

  “I’m sorry, Catalina, I don’t know what came over me.” Leopold was doing his best to control his breathing.

  Cat only half-listened to what he was saying, still caught in a daze. “That was rather ill-mannered,” she said, also trying to bring her heart rate down.

  “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, obs
erving 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.”