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“I’ve heard all your reasons, Mara, and they are nothing more than overblown excuses!”

“But Angie . . .”

“She would be better off knowing that I’m her real father and that I love her!”

“But . . . June . . .”

“This may surprise you, Mara, but I don’t give a damn about June, or any other member of that circus you call a family. I saw them all this afternoon. Any one of them would be glad to sell if they thought they could make a dime out of it.”

“No!”

“Open your eyes, Mara. The longer you wait, the more difficult it is going to be.” He drew his head closer to hers and whispered hoarsely across the table. “And if you have any ridiculous notions that I might not insist that Angie become legally mine, you can guess again.”

Mara felt her fingers shaking, but fortunately her voice was strong and didn’t betray her turbulent inner emotions.

“You know that I have no intention of betraying you, and I have tried to talk to June, Ireallyhave.”

“But?” he snorted, prompting her.

“It’s been difficult.”

“You’re making it difficult!”

“You know that June hasn’t been well . . . certainly you could see in the meeting today what a strain she’s been under.”

“That, Mara, was a show of strength, not weakness.”

“I’m not talking about control of the company, Shane,

I’m talking about physical well-being. You don’t have to be a doctor to see that the woman is ill!” Mara stated emphatically, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

“In my opinion, June Wilcox is as strong as she wants to be. The way she handled that meeting today is proof enough for me. If she’s ill, it’s probably psychosomatic!”

“You’re blinded by your own selfish interests!” Mara charged.

“Is it selfish to want what is rightfully mine?”

“You’ll get it, Shane, I promise you.”

“When, Mara? When?”

Mara let her head fall into the heel of her hand, and she rubbed her throbbing temples to ease the headache that had badgered her all day. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I honestly don’t know. Can’t you please be patient, just a little while longer?” Her blue eyes regarded him through the thick sheen of her lashes. They pleaded with him, and begged him to understand. “It won’t be long,” she whispered.

Thinking it was one of the most difficult things he had ever done, Shane forced himself to ignore the heartbreaking look of promise in her Dresden eyes. “You’ve got one more week,” he replied in a clipped, well-modulated voice. Was he always in control, Mara wondered, was he always so intense? Was she wrong in denying him his child, if only for another week?

“You’re being selfish,” she murmured.

A hollow laugh was her answer. “No, sweetheart, if I’ve made a mistake, it’s that I haven’t been selfish enough! But, believe me, all that has changed. I only want what is rightfully mine. Angie is my daughter, Mara, and I intend to have her! Soon!”

“And you will.”

A grim smile played over his face as he called for the check and paid the bill. They walked in silence back to the building, both wrapped in their own desperate thoughts. Why must it be so difficult, Mara asked herself. Wasn’t there an easy solution to the happiness that they both wanted?

Shane left that evening with only a crisp good-bye. He was polite but formal, and although Mara felt a need to reach out to him, to touch him, she remained stoic behind her desk, wondering how they would ever be able to solve their dilemma and become a family. Even the smile that she tried to flash at him failed and fell into a flat, tremblingly dismal line that barely curved upward at the corners.

She waited, and listened to his retreating footsteps as they echoed down the long corridor outside her office. Never had she felt more alone, and never had she felt so hollow and empty.

The drive home in the car was hot and dusty. Even the summer wildflowers seemed to droop along the roadside in the oppressive humidity, and by the time she got home, Mara was damp with perspiration. The giant oaks lining the drive, with their shimmering silver-green leaves reflecting the late summer sun, were a welcome relief to Mara’s tired eyes. After a long day at the office, the aggravating board meeting, and the fight with Shane, it was all Mara could do to concentrate on her driving while squinting at the relentless afternoon sun. Now, as she slid the Renault into its usual spot near the garage, she lifted her sunglasses from her nose and wiped away the beads of perspiration that had collected on her cheeks. She paused for one more soul-searching minute in the hot car, her hands still lightly gripping the steering wheel. Was Shane right? Had she avoided the subject of Angie with June in a subconscious attempt to avoid the pain that she might cause Peter’s mother? Was she only making excuses, not only to Shane, but also to herself? And was it even possible to tell June about Shane right now and get the truth off her chest? How would her mother-in-law take the news, especially now when Shane had just become a partial owner in Imagination?