Another Man's Child. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      The woman continued with her friendly sales pitch, but Marcus had a hard time concentrating on what she was saying. The four-bedroom unit she was showing them certainly appeared to live up to her praises, but for the life of him, Marcus couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to live there. The Cartwright mansion might be empty, it might be quiet, but at least there he could breathe. The moment he’d driven Lisa through the ornate gates of Terrace Estates, he’d felt like he was suffocating.

      They’d.been stopped by a security guard immediately. Their names were on the visitor list and the guard sent them on through, but if they lived there they’d have to show a pass to the security guard every time just to get to their own home. Their guests would have to do the same. It reminded Marcus of a prison.

      But if this was what Lisa wanted.

      He looked at his wife as she followed the Terrace Estates representative into a double walk-in closet. Lisa had come straight from work and was wearing the soft yellow suit he’d bought her last Christmas. The cropped jacket showed off her slim waist, and the short skirt complimented her long gorgeous legs, reminding him of the last time they’d been wrapped around him. She’d cradled him lovingly, but without ecstasy. He was losing her, slowly but surely.

      “Marcus! Look at this closet! It’s big enough to be another bedroom.” Lisa sounded almost as enthused as the Realtor. Didn’t the place seem as barren to her as it did to him? Had they really grown so far apart?

      “It is large,” Marcus replied, glancing inside. It seemed like a lot of wasted space to him. And it was along the wall the unit shared with the place next door. He couldn’t imagine listening to some stranger scraping hangers along the clothes bar every morning. Couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to.

      “Oh, and come see the bathroom!” Lisa called from the other side of the master suite.

      Marcus made the proper noises as she pointed out the sunken bathtub, the separate Jacuzzi and shower stall. Very nice, very modern, but he just didn’t see how any of this was going to help things. Their problems went a lot deeper than empty rooms. Lisa was only fooling herself if she didn’t see that.

      “What do you think?” Lisa whispered to him as he peeked into the ceramic-tiled shower stall.

      “We’ll buy it if you want it.” He’d never been good at telling her no.

      With her hand on his shoulder, she turned him to face her. “Do you want it?” she asked, her big brown eyes filled with love—and doubt. The Realtor had tactfully disappeared.

      “I want you to be happy.”

      Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “I am happy, Marcus. As long as I’m with you,” she whispered.

      Looking down into her lovely face, Marcus could almost believe her. “Then let’s go home,” he said, putting his arm around her as he walked her out. Her hand slid around his waist, pulling him closer, and he tried to convince himself that she wasn’t ruing the day she’d fallen in love with him.

      “Disappointed?” he asked, glancing over at her as they left Terrace Estates behind them.

      She shook her head. “Relieved. I love our house. I’d have hated living there.”

      “But you’d have done it.”

      “Yes. But, oh, Marcus, it’s just…I miss you. I miss the time we used to spend together.” She stared out the windshield.

      They’d been together almost every evening for the past couple of weeks, but Marcus knew what she meant. They were together in body, but in the ways that mattered, they were more apart than ever. Since their anniversary, they’d been hiding from each other—thinking before they spoke, weighing every word to make certain they didn’t voice the thoughts that were tearing them up inside.

      “Let’s go to the club,” he said suddenly. “We haven’t gone dancing in months.” He needed to hold her. Just hold her.

      She turned, to him, her face alight. “What a good ideal I’d love to.”

      He grabbed her hand, holding it under his on the gearshift between them. “Dancing it is,” he said, and he turned the car along the road toward the country club. Disaster had been averted once more.

      But as he drove her home later that night, as he took her upstairs, undressed her and made slow intimate love to her, Marcus was stabbed again with the guilt that was corroding everything good and dear in his life. What right did he have to deprive her of the family she wanted, the family she’d always dreamed of having? What right did he have to deny that family the chance to thrive under her great store of love? What right did he have to keep it all for himself?

      None. No right at all. He simply wasn’t ready to face the alternative. To live his life without her beside him. He’d been taking care of Lisa since the first day he’d met her, when she’d been trying to carry too-big boxes into her sorority house the August before her sophomore year at Yale. He’d taken one look, relieved her of her burden and decided then and there that she needed watching over. By him. He’d been watching over her ever since, this gorgeous woman who was physically weaker than he and therefore in need of his protection. But he’d known almost from the first where the real strength in their relationship lay. Within her. He drew his strength from the love she gave him so freely. And, God help him, he wasn’t sure he could give that up.

      He held her long into the night, listening to her breathe softly beside him. But sleep eluded him. His own selfishness left too bitter a taste.

      LISA’S THIRTY-THIRD birthday fell on a Sunday in the middle of July, and for once she wasn’t on call. Marcus woke her with a kiss when the sun was peeking over the horizon. He set a warming tray laden with two covered plates, a single red rose and an envelope on the night table beside her.

      “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her once more before he straightened.

      He was wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off sweats, and desire pooled in her belly as she ran her gaze up his long muscular thighs.

      She lifted the comforter and smiled at him. “Come back to bed, Marcus…”

      The omelets Marcus had made for them were still warm, if a little tough, by the time they got to them, but Lisa enjoyed every bite. Hannah provided enough deliciously cooked meals to get them through the week, but they cooked for each other on weekends. Lisa always enjoyed those meals the most.

      She and Marcus sat across from each other on the unmade bed, the warming tray a table between them. Or rather, she sat. He was sprawled on his side, propped up on an elbow, taking up the whole length of the bed, and still naked.

      “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said, munching on her last piece of toast.

      “I’m glad you think so.”

      “I know so.” He motioned to the envelope still propped against the bud vase on the tray. “That’s for you.”

      Lisa reached for the envelope slowly, excited, but just a little afraid to see what was inside. Marcus wasn’t a card man. In all their years together, he’d only given her two. One on their first anniversary and one for Valentine’s Day. She still had them both.

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