A Passionate Affair

‘Of course you should.’ Marsha squeezed the other woman’s hand one last time before settling back into the taxi. ‘We’re friends, and friends are always there for each other, whatever’s happened.’

Susan shut the taxi door without saying anything more. As the vehicle drew away Marsha waved, but the other woman barely responded, although just as they turned the corner out of sight Taylor’s sister was still standing at the bottom of the drive, staring after the car.

Marsha shut her eyes, letting out her breath in a deep sigh. So much for hope. She had been stupid to think Susan would say anything other than what she had eighteen months before. She didn’t know why she had come now. As she’d told Nicki, Susan was Taylor’s sister and she loved her brother devotedly. It must have been a real battle of divided loyalties for her.

She had to accept that it was really over, that there weren’t any Prince Charmings left in the world who would ride in on their valiant steeds and rescue the fair maiden from whatever assailed her. Real life was different; people were different. People like her mother, her best friend. People like Taylor.

But she had thought he was special. It was the cry of a child in her heart. He had made her believe in happy ever after and that wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. She had thought they would create their own family—not straight away, but in time. A family that would be a secure unit, strong, and who would do anything for each other. She didn’t want to be alone the rest of her life.

No snivelling.

The voice in her head brought her up sharp, and she answered it by sitting up straight.

‘All right, love?’

She became aware of the taxi driver’s eyes on her in his mirror and she nodded quickly. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Only you look a bit under the weather, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Course, there’s a lot of this flu about, you know. The wife went down with it a couple of weeks ago, and two of the kids are off school now. Mind, I reckon the little ’un is playing the wag. Don’t like school, the little ’un.’

Marsha nodded, trying to be polite but wishing he would just drive the cab.

He must have got the message, because thankfully the rest of the journey progressed in silence.

She had rung Jeff at home first thing that morning, explaining that something unexpected had come up and she would like to take a day’s holiday, if that was possible. ‘Problems?’ he had asked, and when she’d merely replied that they were personal ones he’d told her there was no need to use up any holiday time but, depending on how long it took to get things sorted, he would appreciate even an hour or two at the end of the day if she were able.

She found she was glad of this now. Her job was hectic and demanding, but that was exactly what she needed. The thought of going home to the empty bedsit filled her with dread. She would get to the office just before lunchtime and make sure she did not leave until she was too exhausted to do another minute. That way she might be able to sleep when she got home. Tomorrow was another day and she would think about everything then. For now it was enough to get through with her emotions so lacerated.

She had been an idiot when Taylor had called this morning. She had underestimated her own strength to resist him, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Her hands bunched together as she remembered their embraces, her cheeks flushing with humiliation at how easily he had beguiled her. From now on he could threaten to wake the whole street and she would not let him in. But it wouldn’t come to that anyway. Tomorrow she would arrange to meet him somewhere anonymous, a wine bar or something similar, and she would make it abundantly clear the divorce was going through come hell or high water.

She caught her breath as her heart twisted. Behind her closed eyelids she could picture him on the screen of her mind. His long lean tanned body as it had looked that morning, the broad muscled chest, flat stomach and hard powerful thighs, his hands—brown and long-fingered—and his mouth. Oh, his mouth… Sensuous, coaxing, possessing the power to send her delirious with desire. How was she going to manage without him? How would she ever get through the rest of her life, knowing he was in the world—walking, eating, breathing, loving—but not with her?

Stop it. She opened her eyes with a snap, furious at herself. She had got by the last eighteen months and she would do so again. Taylor Kane was not the be all and end all; she had to remember that. He might be fascinating and sexy and tender and magnetic, but he was also ruthless and arrogant and hard when it suited him. The same qualities that drew her to him drew other women, and she wasn’t about to live her life ruled by jealousy, eaten up by it. This had to be a clean sharp cut which severed any fragile links still hanging between them.

She turned her head to gaze unseeing out of the window. Of course she would always love him, always carry a thousand regrets for what might have been, but she mustn’t let him know that. She had thought she would grow old with him, loving him and being loved in return, but it wasn’t to be. There would be no babies, no little Taylors with dark hair and tawny eyes…

Again she jerked herself out of her thoughts by sheer will-power. She must not let her mind stray for one moment. She had to keep absolute control over herself or she would end up a gibbering idiot! She had made the only decision she could eighteen months ago and nothing had changed. She couldn’t spend her life wondering when he would tire of her completely, when one of his other women would capture his heart, mind and soul. Living alone for the rest of her life would be preferable to that.

The thought mocked her, especially because, having seen him again, she wasn’t sure if it was true. If she thought there was a chance she might hold him she would take it.

But not at the cost of your own soul. She sat up straighter, her mouth setting in a grim line. And that was what it boiled down to. She wouldn’t let herself become a victim, the sort of woman who put up with intolerable indignities in the name of love.

‘Here we are, miss.’

As the taxi drew up outside the TV building Marsha scrambled out, giving the man a handsome tip to make up for being such an uncommunicative passenger.

She had made a life for herself and it was a good one. It was. It would have to be enough.

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