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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.
    â€œOh, sorry.” Sean’s voice came from behind her when she’d finished. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
    â€œMorning,” she said, smiling up at him. Apparently he’d been working on his car, because his hands were covered with grease.
    â€œDon’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.
    â€œThat was nice what you did,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œApologize to your mother.”
    Hilary lowered her eyes.
    â€œI 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 happen. 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.
    â€œHi,” 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