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the opening of my kids’ exhibition?” Catalina rummaged through the immense, worn-out brown leather purse she wore over her shoulder and eventually extracted a pair of crumpled invitations, handing one to each of them. “If you have no other plans for Saturday, please do drop by the gallery. All my students will be there, proud as peacocks. There’ll be drinks—nothing fancy, of course—but I promise it’ll be fun. All the proceeds will go to renovating the building where we hold the workshops and . . . well, I better go before Milo pulls my arm out of its socket. Good night! Have fun!”
    The young woman disappeared into the night like a whirlwind, dragged by the giant mastiff. Leopold remained silent for a moment, trying to recover from the unexpected run-in with his bewildering neighbor; something told him that Alison hadn’t been very happy to meet her.
    “ Leo ? I’ve never heard anyone call you that.”
    “As you may have noticed, she’s something of a free spirit. She sometimes seems tremendously rude, but it’s not worth getting upset over. Thank God we don’t see each other often,” he said, making sure his tone sounded as indifferent as possible.
    Reassured, Alison took his arm. “Come, darling, I’m ready for a drink.”
    Inside his apartment, Leopold led her to the living room, pressed a button on a touch screen on the wall, and a soft melody instantly enveloped them. While he mixed their drinks, Alison made herself comfortable on one of his huge modern sofas, and looked around as if she owned the place. Her host soon returned with two gin and tonics in highball glasses with a slice of lemon in each, then sat beside her.
    Despite the relaxed, intimate setting, Leopold felt a little restless. Alison had been intent on them going to his place, and now he regretted giving in to her pleas. He discreetly examined her as he sipped his drink. He couldn’t deny that Alison Parker was a tremendously beautiful woman; her hair was that rare Nordic blond, and her bright-blue eyes were feline and sensual. Over her enticing, curvy body, she wore a short dress by a well-known designer that hugged her like a second skin. And yet, for all her voluptuousness, he suddenly found her as cold as a marble sculpture. “Shall we go to that exhibition on Saturday?” he asked, trying to banish his critical thoughts.
    “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.”