a nice man, and she liked him.
He nodded. “I’d like that. Good night, Bett.”
“Good night.” She closed the door behind his tall figure and sighed. It had been nice to have company.
* * *
After that, she and David became good friends. But their association had a devastating effect on Cul. He glared daggers at them every single day.
It didn’t help that being around Cul was bringing back old, unwanted sensations. He could look at her and make her tremble. She hadn’t counted on that reaction when she’d auditioned for the play. She hadn’t counted on the fact that he might want to direct it himself. She should have thought it through.
One night as they were leaving the theater she stumbled over a metal chair, and Cul caught her just in time to keep her from having a bad fall. She looked up into his green eyes and saw an expression in them that made her heart run wild. His hard fingers on her back held her close for an instant, while his eyes went to her soft mouth and stared at it. It was like being kissed; she could almost taste his lips as she had so many years before.
“Getting careless, Bett?” he asked under his breath. “Don’t fall, darling, it’s not the kind of part you can do with a broken leg.”
“I won’t,” she said unsteadily, and tried to smile.
He studied her slowly. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“No,” she said.
But this time he wasn’t letting her talk him out of it. He herded her out to his Porsche and put her in the passenger side. Now what was she going to do, she wondered wildly. How could she let him see where she was living? The humiliation would be terrible.
“Come on, coward, direct me.”
She drew in a steadying breath. “Queens.”
He glanced at her, frowning. “I thought you lived on Park Avenue.”
“I did, while I was making money,” she said wearily. “I made a huge payment on my tax bill, Cul. I had to budget. The apartment—at least, my half of it—had to go.”
“Were you living with a man?” he asked.
“Janet would hate being called a man,” she said through her teeth. “And who I live with is none of your business.”
“It was once. I almost asked you to move in with me, six years ago.”
That was shocking, and her eyes told him so. “Me?”
“You.” He glanced at her mockingly as he navigated a turn. “If you hadn’t been a virgin…”
“Have you always had this hang-up about inexperienced women?” she asked bitterly.
“Just with you, oddly enough. I didn’t want to take advantage of what you felt for me. Especially since marriage wasn’t in my vocabulary.” He glanced at her again. “It still isn’t.”
“Don’t imagine I’m any threat,” she said as coolly as she could, clutching her purse on her lap. “I’m a career woman all the way these days.”
“You’re an up-and-coming star,” he agreed tautly. “I went to see you in that last Lewis play. You were good. Damned good.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, dazed. He didn’t give praise easily. In fact, he rarely gave it at all.
“Now where to?” he asked.
“Left, then right at the next corner,” she directed.
He pulled up in front of her apartment building and glared at it. He cut off the engine and pocketed his key.
“Cul, don’t come up,” she pleaded.
“I want to see.”
There was no arguing with him. Resignedly, she led him up the long flight of stairs to the door of her apartment. His face was rigid as she unlocked it and let him in.
His green eyes swept the surroundings with obvious distaste. “My God,” he breathed.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” she defended, dropping her purse onto the couch. “It’s warm and dry, and I have neighbors who’d come running if I screamed. Besides, if you remember, the apartment I had in Atlanta was much like this.”
“That was different,” he growled. “You were struggling then.”
“I’m still struggling,” she corrected him, turning away. “Would you like a cup of coffee, or are the surroundings just too much for you?”
“Is that how I sound? Like a snob?” he asked softly.
She glanced at him while she filled the pot and set it on the stove to boil. She got down the cracked mugs. “You were never a snob, Cul.”
“I hope not.” He pulled out one of the chairs and straddled it. He looked devastating, his blond hair gleaming in the overhead light, his eyes almost transparent in his dark, rugged face. “I was born to money, but I like to think I’ve never looked down on people without it. My circumstances were an accident. I could as easily have been born poor.”
She’d forgotten until then about his background. One of his ancestors had been an English duke, and he had titled relatives. That straight, proud nose would have graced a family portrait, she thought, studying it.
The man who sang off-key had just started his nightly accompaniment to an opera recording, and Cul sat up straighter.
“Verdi?” he queried, frowning.
“Amazing that you recognized it.” She laughed. “He has a lot of enthusiasm, for a man who can’t sing. I’ve gotten quite used to hearing him.”
“He probably dreams at night about a career with the Met,” he murmured, not unkindly. “Not a lot of us get to fulfill our dreams,” he added, and his eyes were brooding.
“What did you want to do that you haven’t?” she asked as she poured the coffee. “You’ve made a name for yourself as a writer and a director, you have a play being made into a movie…. You’ve done it all.”
“Have I?” He took the cup from her and watched her drop into a chair. “Not quite, Bett. There was one thing I wanted desperately that I never had.”
“What?” she murmured absently.
“You, in bed with me,” he said softly. His eyes wandered slowly over her face and what he could see of her body. “I wanted you to the point of obsession.”
She felt the old hurt come back, full force. “How interesting. Was that before or after you humiliated me in front of the entire cast?”
He caught his breath at the ice in the calm little question. “Yes, I thought you were still bitter about it. I can hardly blame you. But at the time, it seemed the only way out.” His eyes held hers, and there
