The Apartment (6 page)

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 before 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!”

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.

H
ilary 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.