She turned away from the kitchen wall and gestured weakly with her hands. “We’re in deep yogurt, Sean. My mother’s decided to come visit.”
Sean’s brow condensed into thick lines. “When?”
“Mother’s Day.”
“No sweat,” he said with what sounded like supreme confidence. He marched past her and examined the calendar, counting out the weeks until the holiday. His index finger stopped dead on the second Sunday in May.
“The Greers won’t be back until the following week,’ he murmured thoughtfully.
“I know.”
“It’s no big thing. I’ll pack up my things and get a hotel room for the weekend. I might even be able to stay with Craig for a couple of days. He’s another friend of mine. The guy wearing the baseball cap.”
Hilary remembered Sean’s friend as the one who whistled using two fingers when Sean announced she was his roommate. “You’d be willing to do that?” His offer surprised her even more than the efficient way in which he’d ushered his friends out of the apartment.
“Of course.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.” It wasn’t so much that he’d be willing to find somewhere else to stay for the weekend, but that he’d take the time and effort to remove every bit of evidence of his presence in the apartment. It was one thing to stay away a few nights and another to literally move out.
“She won’t know I was ever here,” Sean promised.
Hilary was overcome with gratitude. She mumbled her appreciation and then wandered aimlessly to her room. After she’d showered and changed clothes, she returned to the kitchen to find Sean straightening up the kitchen. Most of the food had been put away, and he’d swept the floor.
“I…I hope I didn’t embarrass you in front of your friends,” she said, feeling guilty about the way she’d stormed at him.
Sean shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m tired and out of sorts,” she admitted. With him and with her mother, too. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”
Sean turned around, holding two empty beer bottles in his hands. “Did I just hear you right? Did you actually admit you might have been wrong?” A smile quivering at the edges of his mouth gave him away. Once more, Hilary felt herself responding to his grin.
“How about a cup of coffee before you go to bed?” Sean asked.
“Make that a cup of chocolate with miniature marshmallows and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Hot chocolate?”
“I was teasing,” she said, feeling lighter than she had since arriving home. “Actually, a cup of tea sounds perfect.” She brewed a pot and carried it into the living room. They sat across from one another, awkward with the situation. Neither seemed inclined to speak.
Sean was sprawled across the sofa, his arms stretched out, a beer bottle dangling from his right hand. He balanced his ankle on his knee.
Hilary sat in the overstuffed chair, her back straight, knees together, holding the cup and saucer in both hands. The teapot and cozy rested on the coffee table between them.
He grinned and looked away.
“Is something wrong?” Hilary wanted to know. She certainly hadn’t done or said anything amusing.
“No, it’s just that…hell, you’ve got pretty legs, why don’t you cross them?”
Hilary could feel the heat permeating her cheeks. She shifted positions and tucked her feet beneath her.
“That’s better,” he said, then smiled and took a swig of beer. When he’d finished, he leaned forward and set the bottle next to the ceramic teapot. “I got the job.”
“Oh, Sean, congratulations.” Hilary was genuinely pleased for him. His get-together with his buddies had probably been a celebration of sorts.
“Your friends seem…nice,” Hilary said as means of starting a conversation.
Sean nodded. “I met Joe, Craig and Dave in Saudi. They’re good men.”
“You were deployed in the Middle East?”
A sigh expanded his chest. “You could say that.”
“Do you mind talking about it? Both Mom and I were intrigued with reports of the war. We sat by the television all hours of the day and night.”
For the next hour Sean fascinated her with stories of his role in the Special Forces, of harrowing escapes, of his other adventures in the military. Hilary asked him several questions, enthralled by the life he’d led. He didn’t mention much about his childhood, just enough for her to surmise it hadn’t been all that happy. He talked briefly about his mother and her absence in his life. Hilary told him about losing her father and how it had drastically changed her and her mother’s lives. Usually she found it difficult to carry on a lengthy conversation with a man, but that wasn’t the case with Sean. He was easy to talk to, interesting and fun. She didn’t know why she hadn’t realized it earlier.
Sean intrigued her. She wouldn’t have called him handsome, not even rugged looking. But there was something strongly appealing about him. His integrity, his decency, his willingness to make the best of an uncomfortable situation. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be such an intolerable situation after all.
* * *
Hilary slept until late the following morning, not stirring until a quarter after ten. Since she didn’t start work until early afternoon on Wednesdays, she wasn’t in any rush to get out of bed. She didn’t hear Sean and assumed that he’d left the apartment.
She paused outside the bathroom door. Curious, she wandered in and turned on the radio. To her surprise the soft, melodic strains of Rossini’s overture from La Gazza Ladra was playing. Pleasantly surprised, Hilary smiled to herself. Sean had changed back the station, just the way he’d said he would.
She wandered into the kitchen and reached for the phone, dialing her mother’s number. She owed her an apology. After the call, she felt vastly improved, and returned to the bathroom, intending to brush her teeth.
“Oh, sorry.” Sean’s voice came from behind her when she’d finished. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
“Morning,” she said, smiling up at him. Apparently he’d been working on his car, because his hands were covered with grease.
“Don’t give me that disgusted look,” he chastised with a knowing grin. “I’ll clean the sink when I’m finished,” he added, scooting past her. The opening between the sink and the door was narrow, and as they edged past one another, her breasts met the solid muscles of his torso. They both hesitated, and Hilary’s startled gaze slowly rose to Sean’s. He seemed to be holding his breath.
“That was nice what you did,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What?”
“Apologize to your mother.”
Hilary lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to listen in, but the kitchen window was open. I bet it meant a lot to her to have you call.”
Hilary shrugged.
By tacit agreement they moved away from each other. “I…I have to get ready for work.” Her voice was shaky as she slid past him.
* * *
Hours later, standing in the music store, the scene from the morning with Sean drifted into Hilary’s mind. They had stood there in the bathroom, their upper bodies pressed against each other, and conversed as if unaware of what was happening. Her breasts had more than brushed his torso. They’d hardened to a painful tightness and he’d seen that. He couldn’t have avoided noticing.
Hilary didn’t know what Sean would think. Perhaps he was accustomed to living with women. He’d probably had several lovers over the years. The thought tightened the muscles of her abdomen.
A second wave of confusion washed over her, this one more forceful than the first. They were both trying so hard to make their arrangement work, to find ways to be cordial to one another instead of creating conflict. Only now, another conflict was developing. A sensual one.
Although they’d never discussed it, never set the ground rules for anything physical between them, it was understood nothing could or would h
appen. They’d crossed the line that morning.
They’d touched each other. Her breasts had met his chest, his thigh had brushed hers, and the heat of that light contact burned her skin still. Even now she could feel it, as clearly as if it were happening all over again.
Hilary dragged in a deep breath and prayed Mr. Murphy wasn’t paying any attention to her.
Something else was happening to her, something just as puzzling and unexplainable. Hilary felt inexplicably possessive of Sean. It made no sense—for all she knew he could be dating ten other women. She had no right to feel these things toward him. None. Not only was it illogical, it could lead to all sorts of problems later.
She guessed they’d bonded, in a manner of speaking. People couldn’t live together and not have it affect them one way or another. This was something neither of them had even thought to consider.
* * *
Sean was at the apartment when she arrived home. An instant rush of pleasure was marred by the memory of their last encounter.
“Hi,” she greeted him carefully as she came in the door, almost afraid.
Her roommate was standing in front of the stove, a dish towel tucked into the waistband of his pants. He was holding a wooden spoon to his mouth, sampling his efforts. When he saw her, he smiled and kissed his fingertips in an expression of culinary excellence.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said.
“Why?” Thus far they’d each cooked their own meals.
“Because I cooked up a batch of the world-famous Cochran spaghetti sauce, not to be confused with the actor who bottles his own. It just so happens we share the same recipe.”
“Does this mean you intend to feed me?”
“What I intend, my dear, is to fatten you up. A woman who calls three measly shrimp her dinner is a woman who hasn’t tasted my spaghetti sauce.”
Hilary laughed softly. “I’ve never turned down a free dinner in my life.”
“Who says this is free?” Sean asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I cook, you wash the dishes.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Sean’s world-famous spaghetti sauce was as good as he claimed. Hilary couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a meal more. They talked and laughed and joked until Hilary was shocked to realize she was an hour into her practice time.
“Thank you,” she said, pressing her hands against her stomach. “The meal was heavenly.”
“I owed you a dinner, remember?”
“In which case you’re welcome to eat my shrimp salad anytime you want.” She stood to stack the dishes in the dishwasher when she remembered. “I…I picked you up something while I was at work today. Something small.” She felt silly now, wishing she hadn’t done it.
“A gift?”
“Sort of. A thank-you for your willingness to move out so everything will go smoothly when my mother visits.”
“That wasn’t necessary, Hilary.”
“I realize that. It’s just a small way of thanking you.” She fished through her purse until she found the small white envelope.
“What is it?” Sean asked.
“A ticket to the symphony’s Mother’s Day performance.”
A silence followed. “Me? At the symphony?” Then Sean burst out laughing. “Forget that, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Sean realized almost immediately that he’d hurt Hilary’s feelings. He hadn’t meant to be insensitive, nor had he intended to threaten the fragile thread of their friendship.
“I didn’t mean to laugh.” Even as he spoke, Sean knew it was too late. The damage had already been done. “It’s just that I’ve never paid to attend anything where I couldn’t buy popcorn or beer.”
“I…understand,” she murmured, her eyes refusing to meet his. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to practice. I’ll close the door so you won’t be troubled.”
“Dammit, Hilary, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” she returned with a quiet dignity.
Sean waited until she was completely out of the kitchen before he threw the dishrag down on the floor, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He’d made a mess of the whole thing, even the apology.
It had come as something of a surprise to discover he enjoyed Hilary’s company. He’d never known a debutante before. His family hadn’t exactly brushed shoulders with the upper crust. Although Hilary hadn’t mentioned that her family had money, it was obvious. She reeked of culture—her manners were impeccable and her vocabulary had come straight out of an expensive private school.
Her persnickety ways had driven him to distraction their first week together. Sean was willing to admit their problems were mostly his doing. He’d gone out of his way to irritate her, wanting to know how far he could push her before she broke. He’d been looking for some way of breaking through her stiff politeness and uncommonly good grace. No matter how much he’d goaded her, she hadn’t raised her voice, hadn’t revealed a hint of anger.
She’d upheld her image of refined elegance. It was only when she’d lost her cool that Sean discovered how much he enjoyed her company. It was then that she’d become human to him. There was a problem, though; she had a thing about her mother. A mere mention of the woman and Hilary became as prickly as an Arizona cactus.
This wasn’t the way he had intended their evening to end. The incident in the bathroom earlier had stayed on his mind all day. Their brief sensual encounter had baffled him, and he was sure it had confused her, as well.
Not that he intended to do anything about it. His roommate was strictly off-limits. Sean wasn’t a fool. He knew trouble when he saw it, and Hilary Wadsworth spelled torment with a capital T.
He walked into the living room, plopped himself down on the sofa and reached for the television controller as the first strains of her flute drifted toward him. His finger froze on the controller button. Her music was hauntingly beautiful, delicate the same way she was.
His mind wandered back to the meal they’d shared. He liked the way she had of neatly smoothing out her napkin in her lap and the way she lifted her fork to her mouth as if it were as exquisite as the food she was eating. In cooking their dinner, he’d purposely chosen spaghetti just to see how she’d manage the long noodles with a knife and fork. And she’d done it, without a hitch. The dexterity with which she’d manipulated her fork and spoon had amazed him.
Then he’d done something stupid. He’d laughed at her.
Sean rubbed a hand down his face. Hell, he was acting like he was in love with her or something. Now, that would be a disaster. Their situation was rife with problems, and Sean could see he was going to have to be the responsible one. Hilary was just naive enough to fill her head with thoughts of love and apple blossoms. When she did find that special man, it would be someone a damn sight more cultured than he was. A man who appreciated attending a symphony. Someone who knew polo was more than a shirt style.
With that thought in mind, Sean flipped the buttons until he found a program that suited his mood—wrestling. He stared at that for several moments, then turned off the television.
He was on his feet before he realized what he was doing. He walked down the hallway to Hilary’s bedroom. Her door was closed, and the sweet melody of some ditty was as soft as a caress. His fist was clenched, prepared to knock against the door, when he hesitated.
“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered under his breath, and walked away. Making an effort to get along with Hilary had its downside. There hadn’t been nearly as many problems when they were snapping and fighting with each other. He’d actually enjoyed an exchange of wits. As far as he could see, being friends wasn’t ever going to work.
Hell, he mused darkly, that was the crux of the problem—friendship was working all too well. He needed to keep his own head on straight, too, now more than ever.
* * *
Hilary hurried into the apartment, carting two heavy sacks of groceries. She barely made it to the kitchen table bef
ore the bags spilled out of her arms.
With a growing sense of enthusiasm, she stepped back and sighed. Tonight would be a celebration. This was Sean’s first day as an employee of Halfax. He was a helicopter pilot, flying geologists and other scientists into Mount Saint Helens to continue their studies of the volcano. But it was more than the job that had prompted this dinner.
The atmosphere between them had been strained ever since she’d given him the ticket to the symphony. This morning he’d been nervous about starting the job. Hilary wanted to do something to put their relationship back on an even keel once again.
She regretted this whole thing with the symphony, and she knew Sean did, too. He wasn’t the type of man who would enjoy a symphony, and she should have recognized that earlier. He felt bad about laughing, and she was upset for having put him in such an awkward position. It was time to smooth the waters.
Although Sean had tried to disguise that he was nervous over starting his new job, Hilary knew he was. The position was perfect for him, with just enough adventure to keep him from growing bored.
She might have been concerned about the danger of such flights if she didn’t have complete confidence in Sean’s abilities. He’d flown in a war zone and survived several harrowing missions. A little thing like a mountain didn’t even faze him.
Hilary had spent the better part of the afternoon, between customers, coming up with the menu. She’d had to drive halfway across Portland to assemble everything she needed. Their dinner would start off with an asparagus roll with ham, followed by an entrée of baked fresh halibut with champagne sauce. For dessert she’d found a quaint bakery and purchased a Neapolitan torte.
By six-thirty, her masterpiece was ready and waiting. Hilary set the table with care, using three ultra-thin candles in a bed of pink carnations as a centerpiece. A streamer spelling out Congratulations in bold metallic colors was strung across the archway leading into the kitchen.
At the sound of Sean’s car door closing, Hilary placed a party hat on her head. When he opened the front door, she blew a paper whistle and yelled out, “Surprise!”
The Apartment Page 4
