He held Rebecca’s chair as she got to her feet, then placed a hand lightly on the small of her back as they made their farewells. She had been his guest this evening at a dinner and auction to benefit the San Francisco Ballet, one of the numerous organizations he patronized and supported. Ian and Rebecca had met well over a year ago at another of these events, and struck up a friendship. He had since escorted her to any number of social occasions, and while he enjoyed her company very much he had known from the start that they would only ever be friends. And it wasn’t just his continued obsession with a certain married blonde employee that precluded him from deepening his relationship with Rebecca. It was also due to her own long-standing, clandestine love affair with another man that she and Ian remained strictly friends.

“I know I’m all kinds of a fool,” she’d confided to him tearfully not long after they’d met. “Believe me, I’ve heard that and worse for the past twelve years from my sisters and best friend, and the handful of other people who know about Rand. They tell me constantly that I’m wasting my time, using up my best years on a man I can never be with openly, and that he’s using me. But none of that matters, Ian. I fell in love with him the moment we met, knew that he would be the only man for me immediately, and try as I might I can’t forget him. Oh, and don’t think I haven’t tried. In the first few years of our relationship, I must have broken things off with him six or seven times, dated other men, tried my hardest to forget him. But each and every time I came running back. Because I finally realized that the thought of never seeing him again was agonizing, more than I could bear, and that I’d much rather have a stolen night with him every other month than nothing at all. And that no matter how hard a person might try, there’s really no successful way of turning off your feelings. Not when they’re this strong. So I might be twenty different kinds of an idiot, and will probably burn in hell someday, but, well, you know the old saying – the heart wants what the heart wants. And my heart wants Randolph Harrington – no matter what the circumstances.”

Randolph Harrington was a multi-term United States Senator from a conservative Midwestern state, who was also a married father of three. He had been carrying on a very secret affair with Rebecca for more than a dozen years now, but had promised her more than once that as soon as he retired from politics he would divorce his wife so that the two of them could finally be together. Ian privately had his doubts that Senator Harrington would ever actually follow through with such a promise, but he had tactfully chosen not to mention this to Rebecca. He thought it a waste that a woman as attractive, intelligent, and successful as Rebecca was wasting the best years of her life on a man she could never be seen with in public. Then again, he told himself ruefully, wasn’t he in a similar sort of hopeless situation?

As soon as Ian helped Rebecca inside the back seat of the Town Car, she wasted little time in retrieving her phone and scrolling through it for messages. She smiled as she paused to re-read one particular message before quickly tapping out a reply.

“Sorry,” she told Ian with a small shrug. “It was a text from Rand. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s all right,” he assured her gently. “I do understand your situation, after all. I don’t necessarily approve of it, but I can empathize.”

Rebecca sighed. “I know it’s wrong, Ian. Believe me, I’ve had every lecture on morality thrown at me over the years. And I appreciate that you’ve never once preached to me about what a sin it is to lust after a married man, how I’m wrecking his marriage, all that stuff. Trust me, Rand’s marriage was wrecked long before I met him. He and his wife haven’t been together since she got pregnant with their third child. And that was sixteen years ago.”

“It’s not my place to lecture you,” he replied. “Especially since I find myself in a similar situation.”

She gave his hand a reassuring little squeeze. “Except that you’re a better person than I am and haven’t given in to temptation. She still has no idea?”

“No.” Ian gave a firm shake of his head. “And she never will, not so long as she’s still a married woman. As far as the lady is concerned, I barely know she exists. It’s better that way, Rebecca. For both of us.”

Rebecca emitted a sad little laugh. “Look at the pair of us, would you? Me obsessed with a man who may or may not ever divorce his wife for me. Meanwhile, I’m going to be forty years old soon, have never been married, and will most likely never have children. My sister is exactly right – I’ve thrown my life away on Rand, wasted the best years of my life. But you know what? Given the choice, I’d probably do it all over again. Because he’s still been the best part of my life, even with all the complications that have gone along with it. As for you, my friend – well, it’s definitely not too late for you. You can still find the right woman, settle down, have a family.”

Ian stared out the back window as the big car traveled through the darkened city streets towards Rebecca’s condo. “I have found the right woman,” he murmured quietly. “The problem is that someone else found her first. And try as I might, even more than a year after I first met her, there’s no one else who even begins to compare.”

A few minutes later Simon had pulled up in front of Rebecca’s very posh condo complex, waiting at the curb as Ian escorted her to the front door.

“I’ll see you upstairs,” he declared as she began to key in the security code to gain access to the lobby.

Rebecca shook her dark head, her hair styled into a sleek, stylish, chin-length bob. “Don’t be silly, Ian. This is probably the most secure building in San Francisco, and I can already see the night doorman heading this way to escort me in. He’s a little overprotective of me, treats me like I’m his daughter or something.”

Ian laughed as she rolled her eyes in disgust, knowing that Rebecca was one of the most independent, self-sufficient women he’d ever known, and that she disdained the very thought of having to rely on a man to look out for her.

“Very well,” he relented. “Especially since I can see your guard dog on the other side of the doors. Thank you for your company this evening, Rebecca. It’s always a pleasure.”

“You, too, Ian. And I’ll see you weekend after next, correct? For the next meeting of the Lonely Hearts Club,” she joked. He had agreed to escort her to a charity event that Golden Gate Bank, of which Rebecca was the president, was sponsoring.