More Than Neighbors by Isabel Keats Page A

“You’re right, Catalina. I’m marrying Alison. And anyway, if you’ll forgive my honesty, it’s not that I feel attracted to you, it’s just I let myself get carried away.”
    “I don’t want to hear any more! I understand,” she interrupted, with an inscrutable expression on her face.
    “Really?” He was dubious; he wasn’t sure he completely understood it himself.
    “It’s Mum’s stew.” She gestured for him to come closer. Intrigued, Leopold held his ear near her lips. “It has aphrodisiac effects,” she whispered.
    Unable to contain her giggles for a moment longer, she dissolved into laughter while he stood staring at her scornfully. Catalina Stapleton was truly childish—she made everything into a joke. “When you’re done laughing, we should get back,” he said stiffly.
    “Come on, Leo.” She draped herself unselfconsciously around his arm. “Don’t be angry. It’s much better to have a friend-neighbor than a fling-and-fight neighbor, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, of course,” he said in an attempt to salvage his dignity. If that episode had meant nothing to her, then it had meant nothing to him. He’d kissed dozens of women in his life, so there was no reason to make anything of it. True, kissing Catalina had been especially enjoyable, but no doubt, as he’d concluded before, it was just because of his long months of celibacy.
     
    Though he’d worried he’d be bored in the countryside, Leopold found the next few days immensely engaging. Every morning, he and Cat rode horses around the area, and she showed him some of the most interesting parts of the county. Sometimes her brothers went with them, and they galloped to see who was fastest; other times, they sat by the fire in the living room and played the endless games of cards that the Stapletons loved. On Christmas Eve, Leopold helped Marisa prepare the turkey for the next day, and while they chatted in the cozy kitchen, which was filling with delicious aromas, Leopold once again thought about how different Catalina’s mother was from his own.
    The only strained moment was on Christmas morning. After a hot shower, Leopold came out of the bathroom with a towel around his slender hips and bumped into Catalina, who was heading into the bathroom, half-asleep. The young woman, wearing only a tiny pair of pajamas, the shorts leaving her long legs bare, walked straight into his solid torso, and he had no option but to grab hold of her arms to stop her from falling. “Sorry,” said Leopold, contemplating the heavy-lidded face still flushed with sleepiness looking up at him, and her gleaming, messy hair. Her chest rose and fell from the shock of the collision, and he had to summon all his willpower not to squeeze her against him and kiss her like he’d kissed her in the snow.
    Without saying a word, he slowly let go of her and watched her close the bathroom door behind her. As he walked the few feet to his bedroom, Leopold promised himself that when he returned to London, he’d find a more suitable woman with whom to put out the fire that burned inside him.
     
    The Christmas holidays came to an end, and Leopold and Cat had to return to the city. Leo said good-bye to everyone, thanking Marisa in particular for her hospitality and for being so kind to him. “Come back whenever you like, Leopold; you’ve been the loveliest guest Cat has ever brought home.”
    “That’s true,” said Robert, the eldest sibling, throwing an arm around Catalina’s shoulders. “My dear little sister loves bringing home every poor wretch she finds on the road. Do you remember when she introduced us to that oddball Henry?”
    “Don’t remind me.” Cat’s mother raised her hand to her forehead with a groan. “He was vegan and wouldn’t eat anything remotely associated with an animal. That year, I had to make Christmas turkey without turkey. Just imagine.”
    “And what about Ringo?” Richard interrupted over his sister’s protests. “There’s still a