Read More Than Neighbors Online
Authors: Isabel Keats
More Than Neighbors
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2014 Isabel Keats
Translation copyright © 2015 Simon Bruni
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Previously published as
Algo mas que vecinos
by Amazon Direct Publishing in 2014 in Spain. Translated from Spanish by Simon Bruni. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2015.
Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503950337
ISBN-10: 1503950336
Cover design by Marc Cohen
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
The late October night was cool but pleasant. It was rare to see the London sky peppered with twinkling stars that time of year. Lying on a chaise longue in the darkness, Leopold tried in vain to disengage his mind from his recent business trip. He was exhausted, but it had been worth it. After spending nearly a month traveling the United States from coast to coast, he’d managed to close the deal in a most satisfactory fashion for his company. He sighed; he knew he’d have trouble getting to sleep that night with the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.
Suddenly, he heard the glass door of the adjoining apartment slide open, and he saw a woman step out, barely covered by a bath towel. Totally oblivious to his presence, the alluring figure leaned against the steel and glass balustrade and stood enjoying the spectacular view of the Canary Wharf skyscrapers and the quays at their feet.
Despite the darkness, Leopold was able to admire the long, slender, shapely legs visible below the white towel, which scarcely reached midthigh. It was clear she’d just gotten out of a hot shower, and in spite of the light breeze coming off the river, she didn’t seem the slightest bit worried about catching a cold. The young woman—he couldn’t be sure of her age, but something told him she was young—had her hair up in a makeshift bun from which several locks had escaped, but in the poor light of the balcony he was unable to make out its color.
Leopold’s curiosity was piqued. He was surprised that his neighbor, Paul Winston—who must have been at least sixty-five years old—had found himself a young lover. It wasn’t an extraordinary thing in itself; he’d just never seemed that sort of man. Though she had her back to him, there was something in her silhouette, so still and relaxed, that he felt powerfully attracted to. He suddenly felt a strong desire to see her face. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”
The young woman turned toward him, visibly startled, and let out a stifled scream. “Who are you? What’re you doing lurking there?”
Despite the anxiety in her tone, the sweet, piquant, feminine voice, like a good cognac, made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. It was still difficult to make out her features, but he sensed she was pretty; her eyes were big, though he couldn’t guess their color. “I’m not lurking,” he replied lightly. “I’m your neighbor; I was just enjoying the pleasant evening.”
She tried to see through the darkness, but in the shadows she could only make out the light color of the man’s hair and his robust frame. “I didn’t know I had a neighbor; I’ve been here almost a month and haven’t seen any lights,” she said.
“I’ve just returned from a business trip to the US.”
“Do you travel a lot?” she asked. The fact she was half-naked didn’t seem to bother her.
“Quite a lot, yes.” But Leopold wasn’t going to let himself be distracted; he turned to the subject that interested him. “So you’ve come to live with Paul.”
“Paul?” For a second, she seemed puzzled. “Oh, of course, Paul! I’ve always called him Uncle Pip, you see.”
She gave a playful smile, and Leopold was taken aback by the brazen way she’d revealed her elderly lover’s pet name. He was surprised by his shocked reaction. For goodness’ sake! He was a big boy; he knew how the world worked. At any rate, his mysterious neighbor was clearly perfectly comfortable with the situation. In spite of it all, he hadn’t gotten the impression she was the least bit vulgar; on the contrary, her diction was quite refined.
“Yes,” she continued, not noticing his unease. “I’ve come to live here, though for how long, I don’t know. It all depends on Uncle Pip.”
If she’s comfortable with the situation, then I will be too
, Leopold told himself, determined to keep his cool. “Since we’re going to be neighbors, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Leopold Sinclair.” He offered her his hand over the railing that separated the two balconies.
“Catalina Stapleton.” As the young woman extended her hand, the towel came loose. If it hadn’t been for her neighbor’s quick reflexes—he clasped the material at the last moment—the towel would have slipped off altogether.
“Good heavens, thank you!” she said, chuckling. “If it wasn’t for you, Mr. Sinclair, I’d have put on quite a show.”
When Leopold restored the corner of the towel to its place, he was unable prevent the back of his hand brushing against one of her firm breasts. An intoxicating rush of desire suddenly surged through him. He was surprised by his excitement; he couldn’t remember ever having such a visceral reaction to a woman’s charms, especially considering how tired he was and the fact he could barely make out her face in the dark. Yet she remained so cool, as though her elderly grandmother had touched her, rather than a man in his prime. He tried to calm himself down and took a step back; it was clear the tension of the last few days had affected him more than he’d thought. “Catalina. That’s an interesting name,” he said, trying to hide the burning sensation.
“I’m half Spanish. My mother came to work in England when she was twenty, and she met my father here and they married.” Catalina rubbed her arms. “Gosh, I’m getting cold, I should go back inside. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sinclair, I imagine we’ll see each other out here from time to time. Good night.”
“Good night,” he replied, his eyes remaining fixed on her until she disappeared through the glass door.
Time for me to go back inside
,
too
, he thought.
Despite his fatigue and jet lag, Leopold fell asleep easily, though an enticing woman whose face remained hidden in the shadows visited his dreams.
The next day was a Saturday, and Leopold, who’d woken up rather late, uncharacteristically decided to take things easy and not go into the office. He picked up the newspaper the concierge had left on his doormat and took it to his bright and airy kitchen. Fortunately, his housekeeper Mrs. Jones always made sure he had fresh food in the fridge, and for the first time in ages, Leopold allowed himself the luxury of a leisurely breakfast while he leafed through the paper, followed by a long shower, without having to rush off to some meeting.
I’ll slow down a bit
, he promised himself, though he knew it would never happen.
He turned on his laptop and worked for a few hours. Later, he took the paper, went out, and sat near a heater on the patio of one of the area’s prettiest restaurants, making the most of the bright sunshine on a chilly day. As he gazed at the boats gently rocking in the little marina, he decided that he’d go out on his own boat the next day; it’d been too long since he’d gone sailing. He wondered if he should call his friend Harry and invite him along, but in the end, he decided he’d rather be alone. He spent so much time surrounded by people that he thought a little solitude would be a pleasant change.
“Hello, Mr. Sinclair!”
Leopold immediately recognized the female voice and stood, looking with interest at the approaching woman. “Good morning, Miss Stapleton! Hullo, Milo!” He bent to stroke the giant white mastiff with black patches that was pulling vigorously at its leash, wagging its tail in excitement.
Leopold had imagined the young woman was pretty, but not to this degree. Her wavy hair cascaded onto her shoulders in colors ranging from chestnut to golden; her brown eyes, framed by thick, long eyelashes, were huge and delicately almond shaped, flashing with specks of gold. Catalina Stapleton was tall and casually dressed in a pair of worn jeans that hugged her slender hips, a white camisole, and an old light-blue boatneck sweater that had lost its shape. “How did you recognize me?” Leopold asked. “I could barely see you in the dark.”
She shot him a cheerful smile, showing off a set of small and very white teeth. One front tooth slightly overlapped another, but the imperfection only added to her charm. “I confess I wasn’t completely sure. On the balcony last night, I thought I glimpsed fair hair, and when I saw you sitting here, I decided to risk it. And anyway, Milo here seems to know you very well,” she declared with amusement, stroking the animal behind the ears.
In fact, she’d thought Leopold Sinclair would be blond, but despite the fact he couldn’t have been over forty, his hair, which he wore very short, was a flash of silver. His eyes were also a cool steel gray, striking and inscrutable on his bronzed face. He wore an elegant jacket over his blue shirt and a pair of well-pressed beige pants; the outfit emphasized his splendid build.
Though she admitted to herself that Mr. Sinclair was very attractive, Cat wasn’t sure if he liked her. He looked like a refined aristocrat straight out of a high-society magazine, all affability and good manners, yet there was something cold and extremely distant about him. “Would you like to join me for a drink? A beer, a Coke?” he asked politely, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the morning with his neighbor’s young lover.
“Oh, no, thank you.” Catalina shook her head, and he caught the pleasant smell of newly washed hair. “I have lots of shopping to do; a few friends are coming around tonight. I hope we won’t disturb you. You’re welcome to come by for a drink; it’ll be very informal.”
“Thanks for the invitation, Miss Stapleton, but I’ll probably have an early night. I want to go sailing tomorrow.”
“You have a boat?” she asked, curious.
“That one there.” Leopold pointed at a small sailboat bobbing gently in the breeze on the river.
“I’ve always wanted to sail on the Thames!” she exclaimed.
Irritated by her ill-concealed hint, Leopold felt obligated to invite her. “You can come with me if you like.”
Noting the serious expression on her neighbor’s face, Catalina couldn’t help but let out another chuckle, which annoyed the man standing in front of her even more. “I can imagine how that must’ve sounded,” Catalina said, with her warm, affectionate smile that threw Leopold slightly off balance. “If my mother had heard me, she’d have said I was tactless. But don’t worry, Mr. Sinclair, I won’t take advantage of your good manners.” With a teasing look and a wave good-bye, she continued on her way.
Leopold sat back down, watching the graceful figure hurrying away from him, pulling the huge mastiff by its leash. He had to admit that Miss Stapleton unsettled him; he couldn’t grasp how a young woman like her could be the lover of a man old enough to be her father. Then he grinned cynically and chided himself for being so naïve.
Everyone knows that money is a powerful aphrodisiac
, he told himself,
and there are hundreds of thousands of Catalina Stapletons in the world
. And yet, for some reason, he disliked thinking of her with the old man.
Don’t be so stupid
. Irritated, he tried to cut short his trail of thought.
She’s admittedly pretty and pleasant, but there’s also something exasperating about her
.
He snatched up the copy of the
Times
he’d left on the table and opened it to the business section, determined to stop thinking about his mysterious neighbor.