Sean froze, looking as if he’d just stepped on a land mine.
“Congratulations,” Hilary said, stepping forward and wrapping her arm around his. “I hope you’re ready for one of the most delectable meals of your life.”
Still Sean didn’t move. “Hil, you shouldn’t have…”
“Are you surprised?”
He nodded slowly, regretfully. He didn’t reveal any of the excitement she expected. If anything, he appeared painfully embarrassed. Not knowing what to make of his mood, she moved to the table and detailed their menu.
“There’s a problem,” Sean said with the same hesitation she’d detected earlier.
“Oh?” She turned back to face him.
“Some of my friends already made plans, and…”
In a heartbeat Hilary understood her folly. She should never have arranged this without checking with Sean first. She forced herself to smile. “Then go with them.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about it, Sean.” She did her best to smile reassuringly. Yes, she was disappointed, but it was her own fault.
“I’d cancel, but a couple of the guys are waiting in the car for me now and…well…”
“Nonsense,” she said, meaning it. Gripping her hands together, standing beside the enormous Neapolitan torte, Hilary couldn’t remember feeling more foolish. “You go with your friends, and we’ll have our dinner some other night.”
“It’ll keep?”
“Of course,” she lied.
“Everything looks wonderful,” he said, surveying the table.
“It wasn’t the least bit of trouble,” she continued, adding one more white lie to the list. Hilary swallowed hard and prayed she could keep her smile from cracking.
“This was really sweet of you, Hil,” Sean muttered.
Sweet. He talked to her as if she were a sixteen-year-old with a crush on him. Sweet, indeed! She might have said something, but before she had the chance, the door opened and Sean’s friend, the one with the piercing whistle, stuck his head inside.
“What’s the holdup? You don’t want to keep Carla waiting, do you?”
Carla, Hilary’s mind repeated. There was a limit to how much her ego could take, and it had just about reached the breaking point.
Sean looked at her, his eyes pleading for understanding.
“Go on, I insist,” she said, exhausting her energy to sound as cheerful as possible. “Don’t keep your friends waiting.”
“You’re my friend, too.”
His words went a long way toward soothing her disappointment. “I know, and you’re special to me, but I made a mistake. We’ll celebrate another night. Okay?”
Sean’s nod revealed his reluctance.
“Have a good time, and we’ll talk later.”
His friend peeked around the door a second time. “Are you coming or not?”
“I’m coming,” Sean assured him. He walked across the room, gently took Hilary by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waited until he was gone before she sank into the kitchen chair. Her knees were shaking, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the emotional energy required to disguise her disappointment or if it was the result of Sean’s brief kiss.
By the very nature of their circumstances, their relationship had to remain strictly platonic. Hilary had accepted that from the first. Sean did, too, although they’d never discussed it. She couldn’t risk involving her heart. But more than her heart had gotten involved. He’d bruised her ego. He called her “sweet” and went off to spend the evening with a woman named Carla.
It shouldn’t bother her so much. But it did.
The evening dragged for Hilary. She ate what she could of the dinner, which was delicious, but she found her appetite was practically nil.
After cleaning the kitchen, she practiced her flute for two hours, soaked in a hot tub, filed her nails, then went to bed. Lying in the dark, her eyes focused on the ceiling, Hilary wondered if Sean would even bother to come back to the apartment or if he’d spend the night with his lady friend. The thought felt like a heavy concrete block pressing against her chest. Breathing became painful, and she forced the image from her mind because it was too painful to dwell on.
* * *
Sean had rarely spent a more miserable evening. Every time he looked at the blonde beauty on his arm, he saw Hilary instead, smiling like he’d never seen her smile, throwing open her arms and shouting Surprise!
He’d gone with Craig and Dave because they were waiting in the truck for him, but he realized his mistake almost immediately. He didn’t want to spend the evening with his friends; he would much rather have been with Hilary.
She’d been so disappointed and struggled so hard to hide it from him. It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d do anything like this. After the fiasco over the symphony tickets, he’d walked on eggshells in an effort to make things right between them, but it hadn’t worked. No matter what he did or said, the atmosphere remained strained and tense. They were both trying too hard, he guessed. And now this.
To his credit, Sean lasted until midnight, then made his excuses. His friends, especially Craig, seemed surprised that he copped out so early.
Sean made record time getting back to the apartment, hoping Hilary would still be up. He needed to talk to her, explain, do what he could to make matters right. But the only light shining was the one on the porch.
He let himself into the silent house, and paused. The living room was dark and still. He splayed his fingers through his hair and experienced a fresh wave of disappointment. It was important for them both right now to talk. Not because he felt guilty—he had nothing to feel guilty about—but he wanted to reassure Hilary, thank her for her thoughtfulness, tell her how much he appreciated the effort she’d made.
Wandering down the darkened hallway, he noticed that her bedroom door was half-open. He stood there for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. She was sleeping soundly.
The world stood still. Sean’s heart felt heavy in his chest, and before he realized his intent, he wandered into Hilary’s bedroom and sat on the edge of her mattress.
Immediately he knew she was awake. Their eyes met in the dark.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice tinged with anger. He had no business being with her like this.
“I should have checked with you before I planned the dinner.” Her voice was as fragile as a hummingbird’s wings.
His gaze lowered to her mouth, her sweet, soft mouth, and he knew once more that he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. Sean moaned, fighting her with every ounce of will he possessed, but before he could pull away, Hilary lifted her arms, tucked them around his neck and drew his mouth down to hers.
CHAPTER SIX
Hilary felt Sean stiffen, felt him resist her, but she didn’t know who he was fighting—her or himself. She levered herself up until they were only separated by inches, their gazes holding one another’s. His eyes were filled with doubt, with regret and something else she couldn’t read. Fear? This man, who’d faced death many times over, who’d laughed when she’d trembled as he told her of his exploits overseas was afraid? It didn’t make sense.
Now it was Sean who was trembling, like a man fighting himself much too hard.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, shocked that she would be so bold.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, dismissing her.
“Yes, I do.”
“Oh, Hil, damn it all, this shouldn’t be happening.” He groaned and caught hold of her. Hilary’s heart stopped and then lurched as his warm mouth covered hers. His hand moved slowly downward from her hair to the small of her back, urging her forward to receive his kiss.
He raised his head, his breath quick and warm against her upturned face. “Why does it have to be you?”
Hilary’s eyes fluttered open. “Instead of Carla?” she whispered.
�
�No,” he rasped. “No,” he said again, his tone husky with need. His hands cupped her face, and he kissed her with a fierce hunger that matched her own. She didn’t understand him, didn’t understand his question, but none of that mattered as long as she was in his arms, as long as he continued to hold her.
He kissed her as she’d never been kissed before, sweeping her mouth with his tongue, forcing a response from her. He drew her closer until their upper bodies were flush against one another. His chest moved against hers, and the summits of her breasts ached with need. He moved his restless hands up and down her back as if he couldn’t believe he was touching her, as if he feared she would vanish.
“I knew you’d taste like this,” he said, dragging his mouth from hers. “Like the sweetest angel in God’s own heaven.” She felt the tremor in him and he cupped her head and lightly rubbed his callused thumb over her moist lips.
“No more,” he said.
“Sean…”
But he was gone before she could stop him. Hilary sat alone in the silence, willing him back. Her heart roared in her ears as she raised her fingers to her lips to investigate for herself what had happened.
They were softly swollen—otherwise she might have believed his kisses had been nothing more than a wildly romantic dream.
The following morning Sean was still furious, but he didn’t know who he was upset with more—Hilary or himself. He should be dragged before a firing squad for the stunt he’d pulled. Walking into Hilary’s bedroom was like pulling the pin on a hand grenade. Yet, knowing that hadn’t been enough to keep him away. The situation between them was explosive and growing more so each passing minute.
Kissing Hilary had to rank as the most foolish thing he’d done in the last fifteen years. He was a man who’d cut his teeth on discipline, he was intimate with self-denial. The army had trained him well. For ten years he’d been part of the armed forces’ most elite corps; he’d proudly worn the hat of the Green Berets. It had taken less than a month and one sweet virgin to crumble his defenses. The weakness he felt for Hilary made him downright furious.
He wasn’t alone in this. She hadn’t done anything to help matters. She’d practically begged him to kiss her. His roommate knew next to nothing about the intimacy shared between a man and a woman. She assumed it was all perfume and romance, while he knew the truth. Making love was hot and physically demanding, a grinding of lips, a meshing of bodies. She didn’t know what she was asking for, and heaven help him, he wasn’t going to be the one to initiate her into the rites of love. He’d save that for the husband her mother would handpick for her someday.
He was packing his lunch when Hilary wandered into the kitchen, all pink and soft in her robe. He ignored her as best he could as he assembled a sandwich, but he felt her presence as profoundly as he’d sensed danger during war. In many ways, Hilary was dangerous to him.
“Good morning,” she greeted softly.
He made a gruff, nonsensical reply.
“I was hoping we’d have a chance to talk.”
By the sound of her voice, she was only a few feet away. Too close for comfort.
“I’ve got to be out of here in five minutes.” He refused to turn around and look at her, knowing whatever resolve he’d managed to collect would be threatened by the mere sight of her.
“It’s about last night,” she said in that delicate way of hers, making the words sound like lace.
Sean slammed the pieces of bread together with such force that the imprint of his hand was left on the sandwich.
“I won’t pretend it didn’t happen,” she added.
“Forget it, then, because it won’t be repeated.” He stuffed the mistreated sandwich into a plastic bag and tossed it into the small brown sack open on top of the counter.
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Because I won’t let it happen.” He made sure his voice was filled with a determination steel wouldn’t dent.
“Sean?”
“What happened to all the oranges?” he asked, standing in front of the open refrigerator. “I could have sworn there were some—”
“Sean?”
“—left. They were in here the other day.”
She walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. “Will you kindly listen to me?”
His heart went wild when she touched him, her hands gliding across the hard muscles of his stomach. It would have been a simple matter to break free of her hold, but he found he couldn’t do it, and hated himself for the weakness.
“Hilary, stop,” he said in his sternest voice, the same one he’d used to lead men. Others would have followed him into hell without question, but this sweet debutante refused to listen. He felt her sigh against him and press her cheek to his back.
“All right,” he said, breaking her hold on him. He whirled around to face her. “You want to talk about last night, then fine, I’ll talk and you’ll listen. Understand?”
She nodded and smiled up at him. “No one’s ever kissed me the way you did.”
“Listen, Hil, if you’re looking for a little experience, find it with someone else. Initiating virgins lost its appeal years ago. You’re sweet and innocent, but frankly, you don’t tempt me. I like my women with a little more seasoning.”
The color left her face as she stepped away from him. Her head jerked with every word he spoke, as if he were physically slapping her. She was blinking furiously in an effort to keep the tears at bay. Sean hated himself for being so cruel, but it was the only way he knew to put an end to this madness.
Someone had to bring Hilary back to earth, otherwise she’d walk around all day with her head in the clouds. One of them had to be responsible before living together became hell for them both.
“The…oranges are in the bottom bin of the refrigerator,” she said, her gaze avoiding his. “I put your food in the lower bin…mine’s in the upper.”
Sean felt a muscle jerk in his jaw as he grabbed his lunch and headed out the door.
* * *
What was so painful, Hilary realized, as she readied for work, was that Sean was right. Not only had she made a fool of herself over him twice, but he’d pointed out one all-important fact: He didn’t want her.
It mortified her every time she thought of the way she’d thrown herself at him, how she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Never in all her life had she been so bold with a man. No wonder Sean thought she was out to gain a little experience. She’d led him to believe she was using him.
He was older, wiser, more knowledgeable than she was. This was her first time away from home. It made perfect sense that she would spread her wings. If anything, she should be grateful he was gentleman enough not to take advantage of her.
They’d been together nearly three weeks now. How quickly that time had passed. Soon he’d be on his own, and it was highly unlikely their worlds would cross again.
It surprised her how much she yearned to talk to her mother. It would have been a simple matter to reach for the phone and spill out her tale of woe, but Hilary resisted the temptation. She’d made an issue of standing on her own two feet. She’d even gone so far as to ask her mother to stop mothering her. Contacting her now, at the first sign of trouble, was a sign of pure weakness. Hilary eyed the wall phone longingly as she walked out of the kitchen.
Sean had one big advantage, she mused as she dressed. He had several friends in Portland. Because she was shy, Hilary had trouble getting to know others. She promised herself she’d make more of an effort.
* * *
Her chance came sooner than she expected. Arnold Wilson, who played bass violin, asked her out for coffee following rehearsal that same evening. He was tall and thin with a long, domineering nose. His smile was warm. He was a gentle man, and Hilary thought highly of him, although they’d only spoken briefly.
“Coffee…sure,” Hilary answered, pleased at the invitation.
“After practice, a number of us stop in at Lenny’s, the c
offee shop on the comer. I was hoping you’d come.”
“I’ll be happy to.” There were several in the symphony who were close in age to Hilary. Rita, who played fourth-chair clarinet, had asked her to join them once before, but Hilary had been exhausted and declined. Now, however, she was more accustomed to the grueling schedule of working days and then attending lengthy practice sessions.
That evening, when they’d finished at the music hall, Hilary, Arnold, Rita and Bill gathered around the table at the all-night diner. Hilary’s new friends shared an easy camaraderie and soon they were all chattering at once, being careful to include her in the conversation. It felt wonderful to feel part of the group.
Hilary was surprised to learn that Rita, a housewife and the mother of a five-year-old, was only three years older than she was. Hilary couldn’t imagine herself as a mother. As Rita talked, relating a recent anecdote about her daughter, Hilary’s thoughts wandered back to the need she’d experienced that morning to talk to her own mother. She’d been hurt and had instinctively reached out for the one person in all the world who would comfort her.
Sean was right—her relationship with her mother was far more complex than she realized. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d miss her so much.
Her mother wasn’t the only person who occupied her thoughts. Sean was there as well, bold as could be, gruff and impatient, barely looking her way. He was letting her know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he regretted kissing her. The problem was, Hilary couldn’t dredge up any genuine remorse. She’d been thinking about it for days, wondering what it would be like if he touched her. The incident in the bathroom hadn’t helped matters any.
Arnold said something and the others laughed. Hilary’s gaze drifted to him. He was warm and witty and fun. He made her laugh and helped her to forget the hurt she’d carried with her most of the day, but she wasn’t attracted to him. Her blood didn’t grow hot when she looked at the violin player. How she wished it did. How she wished she could stop thinking about Sean. He didn’t want her, he’d said so himself. He was a man who didn’t mince words. What he said he meant. She was a complication he chose to avoid.
The Apartment Page 5
