Another Man's Child. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      But there weren’t any babies to rock. And Lisa wasn’t putting much stock in their growing old together, either. Not lately.

      The light was still on and Lisa was lying awake in their bed when Marcus finally came in, pulling off his tie, almost an hour later.

      “Hard night?” she asked softly.

      “This dragging George Blake into the nineties—I don’t know who it’s hurting more, him or me,” Marcus said with a self-derisive chuckle, sitting down to untie his shoes.

      “He’s still fighting you on things?” Marcus looked like he’d aged ten years in the past twelve months. There were new lines on his forehead and around his eyes.

      “Sometimes. But it’s even worse when he doesn’t. Today he was as docile as a lamb, and I hated to see it. The man built an empire from a single five-anddime store. He didn’t do that by sitting back and taking whatever comes. And every time I have to tell him that his way won’t work anymore, every time he nods and gives up without a fight, I feel like I’m killing part of a legend.”

      Lisa watched him unbutton his shirt. She loved Marcus for caring about an old man’s feelings, but she hated seeing him beat himself up over it. “He didn’t work his entire life to have the Blake’s department stores go bankrupt.”

      “You’re right, of course.” Marcus stepped out of his slacks and tossed them on the valet. “It’s just been a long day.”

      Padding naked to the bed, he clicked off the light and slid in beside her.

      “Thanks, Lis. I was beginning to feel like the big bad wolf.”

      “You’re a good man, you know that, Mr. Cartwright?” Lisa asked, taking him in her arms automatically, before she remembered that they weren’t doing that anymore. She tensed, afraid he would push her away.

      “I bet you say that to all the guys, don’t you?” he teased, reminiscent of the old days when he’d been completely confident in his ability to give her whatever she wanted. But tonight, as he leaned over to kiss her, there was no sign of the arrogance that usually accompanied the remark.

      It had been so long since Marcus had touched her that Lisa’s entire body responded to that first stroke of his lips. The blood surged in her veins. Her nerves sang in anticipation—and relief. She’d obviously misread the last month of abstinence. Marcus still wanted her, he’d just needed her to come to him. Another first. But one she could live with. Pushing the thoughts of the day from her mind, she gave herself up to the magic that only Marcus could bring her.

      This was all she needed. All either of them needed. They could make it through anything else when they shared a love this passionate.

      It took her a moment to realize that Marcus wasn’t sharing her passion. His body was ready, she could feel his rigid penis against her thigh, but he’d stopped kissing her and was pulling her gown down where it had ridden up over her hips.

      “What…” Her voice trailed off as he pulled away from her and lay back, his shoulders propped against the headboard.

      “I’m sorry,” he said.

      The words sounded so final.

      She sat up, facing him. “Marcus? What’s wrong?” Had something terrible happened that he hadn’t told her about? Something more than George Blake’s coming-of-age? She wanted to turn the light back on, to see his expression more clearly than the moonlight coming through the window allowed, but fear held her paralyzed.

      “We can’t go on this way, Lis.”

      She wasn’t ready. “What way? What are you talking about?”

      “Us. Our lives. Both of us working ourselves to death, neither of us happy.”

      Lisa had to touch him, to draw her strength from him, just as she always did when life looked as if it was going to be more than she could bear. “I love you,” she said, putting her hand on his thigh, soaking up his warmth.

      “And I love you.” His hand covered hers, his fingers wrapping around her knuckles. “But don’t you sometimes wonder what your life would be like with someone else? Honestly?”

      Lisa snatched her hand away, attacked by a vision of that lipstick on his shirt collar. Did he think his life would be better with someone else? That his need to fill his empty house with a passel of children would just vanish?

      “No,” she finally said slowly, firmly. “I’ve known since the moment we met that you were the only one for me.” There was no room for pride in the desperation she was feeling; maybe that would come later, but for now she wasn’t going to give up on all that they were together without a fight.

      “But back then, we thought I could give you everything,” he said. “And while I can still provide your creature comforts, we’ve got to face the fact that I’ll never be able to give you the one thing you want most to have.”

      Relief flooded through her; another woman wasn’t the problem. “You’re wrong, Marcus,” she said softly, rubbing her hand along his thigh again. “You are the one thing I want most to have. You always have been. That hasn’t changed. And it never will.”

      With a muffled oath Marcus stood up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. “We can’t keep avoiding the issue here, Lisa. You can’t tell me you’re happy, that you’ve been happy these past months. I know you too well. And I can’t continue to get up at dawn every morning to avoid the sadness I know I’m going to see in your eyes.”

      Lisa sat frozen. Feeling nothing. “What are you suggesting?”

      He ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration spilling over into the room he paced. “I don’t know what to suggest, or I’d have done something long before now. It looks to me like we’ve tried everything there is to try, Lis. And it’s just not working. Maybe it’s time to face the fact that there’s nothing to do, nothing that will make this better for both of us. Hell, I didn’t want to get into this tonight” He strode over to the window, a lion caged.

      “Are you telling me you want a divorce?” she asked. She’d never felt so numb.

      “No! Yes. I don’t know, Lis.” He turned to look at her, his blue gaze piercing. “How do you know when it’s over?”

      Somehow she held his gaze without flinching. “I’m not sure. I never thought it would be.”

      “Every time I look at you, I know I’ve failed you,” he said, finally coming back to sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

      She cupped his face. “Oh, no, Marcus. Never. Never have you failed me. Not in any way that matters. What’s happened is not your fault.”

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