by Isabel Keats
“You must be joking, darling. Judging by the way she dresses, I’ve no desire to go to some seedy dive. From what she told us, her kids,”—she emphasized the word with contempt—“must be mere beginners.”
“They’re not just beginners, they’re children with disabilities. It won’t be a high-society event, obviously, but it’d be something different,” he answered calmly, though Alison’s words had irritated him.
“It certainly would be different. Just thinking about it gives me the shivers. Anyway, remember that on Saturday we have the gala dinner at the Royal Opera House. Let’s say nothing more about your annoying little neighbor―I haven’t come here for that.” Her voice was heavy with meaning, and she shot him a suggestive look through her long, mascara-laden eyelashes.
Once again, Leopold thought that sometimes Alison seemed rather insensitive. Still, he accepted her unspoken invitation, lowering his head and finding her lips. She instantly opened her mouth, and Leopold was surprised to find himself thinking about another kiss and another pair of lips.
He cursed inwardly, trying to cast the ill-timed comparison from his mind, but Alison’s expert kisses, which had always pressed the right buttons, were having no effect at all on him. In spite of that, he continued to kiss her until he felt her manicured hands slipping under his shirt. Leopold suddenly realized that he had no desire to carry on. He abruptly stopped and gently separated himself from her. “I’m sorry, Alison. I must be more tired than I thought. I don’t think it was a good idea to invite you over.” Her blue eyes flashed with fury, then almost immediately, she got herself under control. Leopold couldn’t help but admire Alison’s mastery of her emotions.
“In that case, I’d better leave,” she said in a measured tone. Standing purposefully, she picked up her purse and the coat she’d tossed on the other sofa.
“I’m sorry. I’ll take you home.”
“That won’t be necessary, Leopold. You can just call me a taxi.”
“Are you sure?” He felt guilty. The situation was unpleasant for both of them.
“Don’t worry, dear, it won’t do me any harm to get some sleep as well. With this Fleetwood case, work has been exhausting lately.”
“I’m glad you’re the kind of woman who’s able to understand these things,” said Leopold, contented, taking her hand and gallantly kissing it.
Flattered by his comment, she felt a little less humiliated than she had a few seconds earlier. Leopold called the taxi, which soon arrived, and accompanied her to the main door of the building to see her off.
Just as the car drove away, Cat appeared with Milo, or more to the point, Milo appeared, dragging Cat home. “Goodness! She’s leaving already? So soon? What happened? Did you have a row?” She gave him an inquisitive look.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, Catalina, that you often come across as rather indiscreet,” he replied, annoyed by her tactlessness.
“You’re right. My mother often tells me that, too.” She sighed dramatically, then repeated, “Come on, do tell. Did you quarrel?”
“It’s none of your business!” Leopold shot back, riled.
“In any case, I don’t think your stunning girlfriend was very pleased to meet me. Haven’t you told her that you think I’m an irritating busybody?” Her expression was full of mischief.
He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got it wrong.”
“About what you think of me?” Catalina continued to goad him.
Leopold lost his temper. “No, about Alison considering you a threat,” he replied with some force. However, as soon as he said the words he regretted them. He was horrified by his bad manners; he had just been incredibly rude to Catalina. Confused by his strange behavior, he noticed that Cat had bent down to stroke Milo, her face hidden behind her long hair.
“I am sorry,” he apologized stiffly, noting that his anger was increasing in conjunction with how awful she was making him feel. Catalina continued to stroke Milo as if she hadn’t heard him, and suddenly he noticed her shoulders trembling. Appalled, he crouched down beside her and gently put his hand on her back. “Catalina, please forgive me. I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression that I think you’re irritating and interfering. I promise that’s not the case.”
Cat brushed her long hair from her face with a trembling hand and turned toward him, her cheeks flushed with laughter. “I forgive you, Leo,” she declared, chuckling. “But for some reason, I don’t believe you!”
All the rage building up inside him finally exploded. Leopold would not put up with an insignificant young woman like Catalina Stapleton making fun of him. “You behave like a snotty-nosed brat! You were right not to believe me; I do think you’re the most annoying, meddlesome, bad-mannered and—”
Cat raised a hand and rested it against his rough cheek, at once making him fall silent. “I’m sorry, Leo. I just can’t resist the temptation to wind you up. You always seem to have everything completely under control, and the idea of driving you crazy is just too enticing. It makes you seem more human,” she confessed, giving him a friendly smile.
He moved his face away as if her touch had burned him and slowly stood, trying to calm himself down. “I’m delighted you find me so funny. I’d better go now. Good night, Catalina.” With great dignity, he went through the door of their building and gently closed it behind him, resisting the urge to slam it.
Cat sighed as she watched his tall, elegant figure disappear through the glass door. She wasn’t surprised that Leo hated her. She knew that the way she took men down a peg or two sometimes rubbed them the wrong way, but she was convinced that Leopold Sinclair needed a double helping of humility.
She’d never seen such a serious man, so restrained and so tediously polite. She still couldn’t understand how a guy like that had been able to kiss her so passionately on the boat; he seemed chillier than an industrial freezer. And then there was his fabulous, marvelous, beautiful girlfriend. After only a glance, Cat knew whom she was up against, and she had no doubt that the blonde was one of those women who would devote themselves to nurturing the most unpleasant aspects of their unfortunate boyfriends’ personality.
Leo Sinclair’s hardly an unfortunate wretch, she admitted to herself, but for some reason, I’m certain he’s unhappy, and what’s more, I’m convinced that he’d be much better off without that cold, calculating, nasty piece of work. However beautiful she may be.
Certain of her good intentions toward her poor neighbor, she whistled a cheerful tune and climbed the granite entry stairs to the imposing steel and glass apartment building two at a time, with Milo following close behind.
CHAPTER 5
The exhibition opening was going well. The gallery had already sold many of the paintings, and Catalina’s students were euphoric. Most of the partygoers were the students’ parents and siblings, all of whom had expressed the immense pleasure it brought them to see their children, brothers, and sisters so happy and proud. Diego, the owner of the art gallery, put an arm around Cat’s waist and whispered in her ear: “A victory, my angel.”
She turned to him with a smile. “It’s been a huge success. We’ve already raised almost half of what we need to renovate the building. Thank you so much, Diego—I don’t know what we’d have done without your help.”
Just then, Cat’s friend Fiona walked over. “Gosh, Cat, some of these students of yours can’t keep their hands to themselves,” she complained, trying to shake off a short boy with large eyes and a perpetual smile.
“Martin, sweetheart, leave Fiona in peace. She doesn’t want to play with you right now.”
The boy nodded and, still smiling, headed for another girl. “Martin loves pretty girls. I think your hair dazzled him.” Cat admired her friend’s red curls.
As usual, Diego didn’t miss a chance to needle her. “Don’t complain, Fiona, the one time a man pays you some attention . . .”
“
Ha ha, very funny.” Fiona shot daggers at the gallery owner. The pair had been in a stormy relationship for almost three years, until Fiona left him for one of his young artists. Since then, they couldn’t see each other without exchanging a gibe or two.
“Peace, darlings, don’t start,” Cat pleaded, acting as mediator.
“Good evening, Catalina.”
Surprised, she turned to discover Leopold behind her, dressed in a classic black tuxedo and a blindingly white shirt that contrasted with his bronzed skin.
“Heavens, Leo! I’m so happy to see you. I’d given you up for lost this evening. You’re looking very dapper.” She checked him out admiringly.
Despite himself, Leopold enjoyed feeling Catalina’s eyes travel over his body. She’d switched her torn jeans and tee for pants and a simple black top, jazzed up with a brightly colored gauze scarf around her neck. Her hair was shimmering with golden highlights, and Leopold couldn’t help but think that, though she might not wear sophisticated designer clothes, his neighbor always managed to look stunning.
At that moment, Fiona cut in, gazing up provocatively at Leo through her long eyelashes. “Hi. Remember me? We met the other night at the party. Cat, you should introduce me properly.”
“Careful everyone, the local man-eater’s sharpening her claws.” The barely veiled hostility in Diego’s words made Fiona want to strangle her ex.
“Please don’t start again, you two!” Cat commanded, tired of their endless squabbling. “Leo, this is Diego Torres. He owns the gallery and was kind enough to loan it to us for the exhibition. And you’ve already met Fiona Danson, a friend of mine for I don’t know how many years. Guys, this is Leopold Sinclair.”
“Of Sinclair & Associates?” Diego seemed impressed.
“That’s right.” Leopold shook his hand, having done the same with Fiona.
“How decorous of you.” The redhead made a face.
“You have no idea,” Cat said in a disparaging tone that annoyed her neighbor.
“Where’ve you been, all dressed up like that, Leopold?” Fiona devoured him with her eyes.
“I’ve just come from a gala dinner at the Royal Opera House. After we’d finished eating, my date felt unwell and went home, so I came here. I was curious to see your students’ work, Catalina.”
Suddenly, a short twenty-something girl with Down syndrome approached Cat and threw her arms around her. “Cat, Cat, I sold my painting! For twenty pounds!” Her almond-shaped eyes flashed with excitement behind her glasses.
Leopold noticed the tender expression on his neighbor’s face as she bent to return the hug and kiss the girl’s forehead. “Rachel, honey. I didn’t doubt that some connoisseur would fall in love with your work at first sight and buy it; don’t I always say you use beautiful colors?”
“I wanted you to know first; now I’ll go and tell Mum.” The girl ran off, a giant smile spread across her face.
Cat’s happy, affectionate gaze came to rest on Leopold, who was observing everything with a grave expression. “Shall I show you the paintings?” she offered amicably.
“I’d like that very much.”
“Guys, I’m going to show Leo the exhibition. It’d be nice if you didn’t gouge each other’s eyes out in my absence.” After giving them both an admonishing look, she led her neighbor to one of the brick walls on which several paintings hung.
The quality of the artwork varied. Some paintings were little more than a childlike scribble, while others demonstrated surprising skill. Overall, however, Leopold was impressed, especially since he hadn’t known what to expect. “You must be a good teacher, Catalina. Some of these paintings are really good,” her neighbor said admiringly.
“Thank you very much, Leo. I’m flattered, but all the credit belongs to the kids. You can’t imagine the interest they’ve shown and how dedicated they are.” Her pretty face lit up as she talked about her students, and Leopold felt touched by her concern for them.
“And this one?” Sinclair stopped in front of a Cubist portrait of a woman, attracted by the angular strokes and muted colors that portrayed great strength and vitality. “It’s you!”
Cat looked at him, impressed. “I’m surprised, Leo—you’re the only person who’s noticed.”
“I’m not sure why, there’s just something about it . . .” He broke off, not knowing exactly what he wanted to say.
“I didn’t know you were so discerning.” She was staring at him with a newfound respect. “It was done by my best student, Peter Kelly. He’s a young lad on the autism spectrum, and his instinct for art is extraordinary. I’m trying to obtain a scholarship for him to study at Saint Martins, but it’s not easy. The poor lad struggles socially, and I’m well aware he needs more than I can offer him.”
“He’s your favorite student?” Leo’s gray eyes looked at her questioningly.
Catalina shook her head and gave a faint smile. “A good teacher never admits she has favorites. Let’s just say that he’s a very special young man. Look, here he is. I’ll introduce you. Peter, come here!”
A short, dark-haired young man of twenty or so came over. “My angel,” was all he said, grabbing Cat by the waist and resting his cheek on her shoulder. She gently stroked his black hair.
“Peter, this is my friend Leo. He really liked your painting and wanted to meet you.” The young man shot him a sullen look.
“She’s my angel,” he warned, possessively squeezing Cat’s waist even tighter.
Leopold was a bit thrown but said very seriously, “That’s good, you’re a lucky chap.”
Reassured, the younger man gazed at Cat adoringly and asked, “Are you coming to my birthday party?”
“Of course, sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world,” Cat replied, ruffling his hair again. Satisfied, Peter spotted a woman with his same dark hair signaling him from a corner of the gallery.
“Mum’s calling me.” The young man took a few steps away, then suddenly turned back to Cat and pointed at Leopold. “Angel, he’s not invited.” With that, he ran to where his mother was waiting.
“I’m sorry, Leo, but you heard him. You’re not invited to his party.” There was a flash of mischief in her large brown eyes.
“I’ll try to get over this new blow to my self-esteem,” her neighbor declared solemnly. He raised an eyebrow and added, “My angel?”
“Peter heard Diego call me that once, and ever since then, it’s been his nickname for me.”
Leopold stared at her with an indecipherable expression. “And you, do you paint, or just teach?” he eventually said.
“Oh, I paint, but I don’t have much time for it. I’ve only finished a few canvases,” she answered.
“Have you tried to sell them?”
“No. I’m not ready to exhibit.” Catalina hoped that her brief explanation would put an end to his questioning. Though Leopold could tell that she wanted to change the topic, that didn’t stop him.
“Why won’t you exhibit? Are you scared of criticism?” he persisted.
Cat thought carefully before responding, rolling one of her glossy locks of hair around her forefinger. “I don’t think it’s that, exactly,” she finally answered. “It’s more a matter of intimacy.”
“Intimacy?” The answer intrigued him.
“Gosh, Leo, you’re like a bloodhound following a trail.” She seemed annoyed.
“Woof! Come on, Catalina, don’t try to change the subject. Intimacy?” he repeated.
“I don’t know, that’s just how I feel. Exhibiting my work would be a bit like being naked in public.” She was speaking slowly, as if searching for the right words.
“Interesting. I’d never have thought you were a shy person.”
Now Cat looked at him with visible irritation. “And I’m not, but . . .” She shrugged, unable to clearly articulate her feelings.
“Have you ever shown anyone your paintings?” Leopold wasn’t ready to end his interrogation before he’d gotten satisfactory answers.
“Only Diego.”
“And?”
“He thinks I should exhibit.”
“But you don’t feel ready. I see.” Leopold noted her flushed face and uncomfortable expression. “What about me? Would you show me?”
“If you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have flatly refused. I thought you had all the art sensibility of the Terminator. But today, I’m not so sure.” Once again, Cat inspected him thoughtfully. “You really do look very handsome in that tuxedo, Leo. It’s beyond me how the beautiful Alison could’ve let you get away tonight,” she said with a glint in her eye.
“Catalina, dear, don’t try to distract me.” He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head, and repeated, “Will you show them to me?”
“We’ll see,” she replied, staring up at the ceiling.
A group of people, most of them parents of the students, approached then to congratulate Catalina on the exhibition and say good-bye. Leopold took the opportunity to discreetly walk away and hide in a corner, where he phoned his friend Harry. “Hullo, Harry. Have I woken you? Then I’m doubly sorry, old boy. Tell Lisa I’ll try to make it up to her somehow. I need a favor . . .”
When he hung up, he returned to the group surrounding his neighbor. “I’m off, too.”
“Good night, Leo. I really appreciate you coming.” Catalina gave him one of those sweet smiles that made his stomach flutter strangely.
