Buried Evidence by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

hear Lily’s voice, gaze at her enthralling face, feel the rush of emotion that only she could generate. He couldn’t discuss his work with Joyce, reveal his innermost thoughts, banter back and forth without it turning into a full-scale screaming match. Even though he didn’t see eye to eye with Lily on every issue, their disagreements had always fallen more along the lines of a debate than a full-fledged argument. Although she wasn’t an ignorant woman, Joyce’s intellect paled in comparison to that of his former lover. Even withLily’s girlish freckles, she was a lightning bolt, a roller-coaster ride, a rare combination of femininity and masculinity. She had not only been his lover, she had been his friend.
    “Linda’s trying to get pregnant.”
    “Really?” Now that Joyce was no longer angry, Richard would have to engage in mindless chitter-chatter. With Lily there was no such thing. The woman didn’t open her mouth unless she had something meaningful to say. “How does Bill feel about having a kid?”
    “He’s thrilled.”
    “Are you sure about that?” Richard had been friends with Bill Gordon for years. On at least a dozen occasions he had sworn he would never have children. Since he’d already made a fortune in the restaurant business, he intended to travel and enjoy his success rather than take on the rigors of parenting.
    “Everyone wants a family, Rich,” she said, stretching her arms over her head. “That’s why people get married.”
    “Well,” he answered, “don’t forget that Bill was a late bloomer. He didn’t get married until he was forty-five. Everyone isn’t cut out to be a parent, you know. Isn’t Linda too old to have a kid?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For all he knew, Joyce and Linda were the same age. Bill was certainly no youngster. His friend had already passed the half-century mark.
    “Are you trying to tell me something?”
    “Of course not,” he said, fearing another fight brewing. “I’m just trying to have a conversation with you.” Not once had Joyce expressed an interest in getting pregnant. For several months now, she’d been dropping all kinds of hints, not just about having a child, but subtly trying to manipulate him into marrying her. Greg was twenty-two and had received his degree in oceanography from the institute in San Diego the previous year. Richard had no intention of starting a second family at this stage of his life.
    Heading to the master bedroom, he entered the walk-in closet to hang up his jacket. Joyce stripped off her exercise clothes and tossed on a robe. Then she followed him into the closet, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “You’ve been ignoringme lately,” she said. “I thought we were going to spend a romantic evening together. Remember? You promised me last week. That’s why I was hurt when you came home so late.”
    “Tomorrow,” he said. “Why don’t you make reservations at that Indian restaurant you like? I should be home by seven at the latest.” His conscience kicked in and he quickly added, “I’ll be here by six, okay?”
    She circled around in front of him, opening the front of her flimsy negligee and pressing her breasts against his chest. “We don’t have to wait,” she said, smiling suggestively. “It’s not
that
late. Don’t tell me you’re turning into an old man on me.”
    Richard felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. How could he have sex with Joyce? What if he couldn’t perform? More important, he didn’t want to have sex with Joyce. No matter how serious the problems surrounding Lily were, all the old feelings had returned. After only a few hours together he felt like a heroin addict in need of a fix. Now that he’d seen her again, he had to find out if there was a chance they could build a life together. Her winsome appearance, her angular yet feminine body, even her unpredictable outbursts—all were intriguing but they were not the fire that