More Than Neighbors

by Isabel Keats

  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.

  CHAPTER 9

  Despite one or two of the actors forgetting their lines, and the lead character tripping over the sword he wore in his belt and falling headlong onto the stage, the play was a success. To celebrate, a group of teachers from the school, along with Catalina, Diego, Fiona, and her date, went to a restaurant. Fiona spent most of the evening flirting shamelessly with her friend, while Diego drank one beer after another. In the end, the redhead and her companion left together, and Diego offered to take Cat home. “Perhaps I should’ve taken you home,” she remarked, concerned, Di
ego swaying drunkenly as they stood at the front door of her building.

  “Don’t be silly, my angel, I’m perfectly fine.” Her friend stumbled over his words.

  “Do you want me to call a taxi?”

  “I think I can walk the three blocks to my house!” he replied, offended.

  “In that case, good night.” Catalina leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, but Diego, who was almost the same height, turned his head, and she was unable to prevent their lips from touching.

  “Cat . . .” He put his arms around her and squeezed her to him, his mouth becoming more persistent. Catalina put her hands on his chest and pushed him away from her. It wasn’t very difficult; her friend was so drunk that she almost shoved him to the floor.

  “Diego, I’m not Fiona,” she reminded him, trying to be patient.

  “I know that, Cat. Why do you think I’d like you to be Fiona? Fiona’s a witch. You, on the other hand, are beautiful and kind. Do you want to be my girlfriend, Cat?”

  “Lower your voice, Diego, you’re going to wake the neighbors.”

  “What do I care about your neighbors?” he shouted back. “Hear me, everyone! I’ve asked Cat to be my girlfriend!”

  At that moment, an empty taxi drove by, and Catalina hailed it. With some effort, she managed to put her friend in the backseat and close the door. Then she gave the driver Diego’s address and said good-bye, first making sure he had enough cash to pay for the ride. “Farewell, my angel!” Diego yelled, leaning half his body out the window and waving his arms frenetically as the taxi sped off.

  Catalina sighed in relief. She was about to enter her building when a menacingly large shadow appeared out of nowhere. Terrified, she pressed her lips together to stifle a scream, then almost instantly recognized her neighbor’s tall frame, as immaculate as ever. “Heavens, Leo! You almost gave me a heart attack,” she complained, her hand flying to her thumping chest.

  Her neighbor fixed his eyes on the young woman’s flushed lips, a clear sign they’d just been forcefully kissed. “I’m not surprised you didn’t hear me, Catalina—that was some scene with your friend,” he said with scorn.

  “What’s the problem? Have you never had a friend go through a rough patch? You have less empathy than the nail on my right big toe!” For the first time, Leopold had managed to make her genuinely angry.

  Crossing his arms, he shook his head in disapproval. “He didn’t seem to be having such a bad time. Quite the contrary: he looked like he was rather enjoying kissing you.” His sarcasm was evident.

  “Men!” Cat exclaimed contemptuously. “You can’t see beyond your own noses.”

  “And what is it I should’ve seen, may I ask?”

  “That Diego’s a mess. He’s just spent the entire evening watching Fiona fool around with a guy right under his nose, and he drank more than he should have.”

  “If, like you suggest, he’s in love with your friend, why is he asking you to be his girlfriend? It makes no sense.” Her neighbor didn’t seem persuaded by her argument.

  “Oh, Leo! Do I have to explain everything?” she said, exasperated. “It’s obvious he wants to make her jealous, and I’m Fiona’s best friend, after all.”

  “I don’t know how you can consider such a man to be your friend. He could end up hurting you—”

  “For pity’s sake, Leo, don’t be ridiculous! Diego doesn’t want to hurt me; he knows I’d never fall in love with him.”

  “How can you be so sure? Are you in love with someone else?” He frowned.

  “What does it matter to you? You’re a nosey parker.” She scowled at him. “But no, I’m not in love with anyone else. Diego’s known me for years—he knows exactly what I’m like.”

  “Oh, he does, does he?” Her response had annoyed him even more. “And what are you like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Diego knows I don’t fall in love easily,” she replied with aplomb.

  “Maybe you’ve never been in love.” He looked at her with a triumphant expression.

  Now Cat was furious. What did this stuck-up man know about her life or feelings? “Of course I’ve been in love. Plenty of times, if you must know. I’ve had several boyfriends, and I lived with one of them for two years.” Incensed, Cat wondered why on earth she was explaining anything to this man. She quickly went on the counterattack. “And what about you? You don’t seem like the type of man to let anyone get anywhere near your heart. You’re going to marry stunning Alison, but I’m certain you’re not in love with her. In fact, I doubt you have any idea what love is.”

  “Then that makes two of us,” he scoffed, even while asking himself why he didn’t just tell her that he’d broken up with Alison once and for all.

  Suddenly, Catalina burst out laughing and regained her good humor. “What a silly conversation. Neither of us knows how the other person feels, so we should talk about something else or, for that matter, about nothing at all, because I have to go to sleep. I’m going away tomorrow, and I need some rest.”

  Seeing her smiling again, Leopold relaxed, too. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m off to my parents’ house in Herefordshire. My family always gets together at Christmas. Will you go home?”

  “No, I wasn’t intending to.”

  “So you’ll spend the holidays with friends?”

  “I haven’t arranged anything.”

  “Are you telling me that you intend to spend Christmas all by yourself in your apartment?” She looked at him with horror.

  “What’s wrong with that? Christmas doesn’t mean anything to me. My mother’s never made a big deal of it, and I haven’t been home for the holidays since I was eighteen.”

  As he was speaking, Cat’s eyes grew wider and wider, and when he’d finished, she pursed her lips and then firmly declared, “I won’t allow it. You’ll come to my house and spend Christmas with my family.”

  “Are you mad? You intend to turn up without warning at your parents’ house with a stranger in tow, at this time of year?” He was horrified.

  “I certainly do. I won’t let you spend Christmas on your own in your apartment like an abandoned dog.”

  The comparison wounded Leopold to his core. “For your information, Catalina,” he said, his voice now sounding icy, “I’ve spent the last twenty or so Christmases either alone or on some heavenly beach in the company of a woman, and I do not consider myself deserving of pity.”

  “Well, you are,” she said, steadfast in her opinion.

  His irritation growing, Leopold was about to give her a piece of his mind, but got himself under control. “I am not,” he said in an exaggeratedly relaxed tone. “I’ll spend Christmas at home, and only because that is what I want to do.” With disbelief, he watched her brown eyes well up, and her lips begin to tremble.

  “Leo, please don’t ruin my holidays. I swear I’ll be incapable of enjoying myself knowing that you’re here without anyone to share such a special time with. You can’t be so cruel.”

  Leo stretched out his hand and ran a finger along her dark eyelashes, now glistening with tears.

  “Good Lord, Catalina. I can’t believe you’re on the verge of tears over such a silly thing.”

  “It’s not silly to me! I wouldn’t wish such a thing on my worst enemy, and I almost consider you a friend.”

  It was clear that Cat truly felt what she was saying, and though the word “friend” once more irritated him, for some reason, he felt strangely moved by her concern and knew he was about to give in. “But I’ll be an imposition on your family. They won’t appreciate it. They’ll think I’m your boyfriend.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” She brightened, as if she could sense he was about to surrender. “It won’t be the first time I showed up with someone. Please come, Leo.”

  Leopold was beginning to feel like just another pitiful cre
ature that his benevolent neighbor had decided to rescue from the street, and though he disliked the feeling, he was unable to resist her pleading eyes. “All right, then,” he said with reluctance. “What time are you leaving?”

  “I thought I’d catch the nine o’clock train.”

  “Let’s take my car instead.”

  “But there might be snow on the roads, and I have to take Milo with me,” she protested.

  “Not a problem. We’ll take the Range Rover,” said Leopold, settling the matter.

  “How many cars do you have?” She looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

  “Just two.” Catalina said nothing, and he was relieved; he wasn’t in the mood to listen to an impassioned lecture on social inequality. “Excellent. So I’ll ring your doorbell at nine on the dot.”

  “Perfect. Thank you so much, Leo.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Leopold’s nostrils flared as he breathed in her pleasant smell, briefly hoping that one day his affectionate neighbor would give up her maddening habit of kissing everyone.

  “It’s me who should be thanking you,” he said, very formally.

  “Not yet, Leo, dearest. You should wait until you’ve met my brothers.” She winked at him with an impish expression before heading toward the door, where she turned to wave good-bye.

  In spite of the cold, Leopold remained outside for some time, thinking about what had just happened. He couldn’t grasp quite how his unpredictable neighbor had managed to persuade him to embark on such an escapade. He still couldn’t believe that he was going to spend the next few days celebrating Christmas in a house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a group of people he didn’t know. If someone had told him to envision his least desirable holiday plan, he would have described precisely that. At least he’d be with Cat, he told himself with a shrug, and if there was one thing he could not accuse Catalina Stapleton of, it was being boring.