Loveplay

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 was faint regret in their green depths. “You were in love with me. Too much in love. I had nothing to give you, except a few kisses in the moonlight or, at best, a brief affair. I had to break if off.”

“You might have just told me,” she returned.

“You’re a bulldog, Bett,” he replied with a faint smile. “It wouldn’t have worked. It had to be something drastic.” He shrugged. “Gloria was willing and handy. I knew your pride would save you.”

She laughed curtly. “Oh, yes, it sent me running for New York. Or hadn’t you considered what the cast would do to me afterward?”

The smile left his face. “What do you mean?”

“Your `girlfriend’ made a huge joke about my hanging like an albatross around your neck. She made me the laughing stock of the entire company.” Her eyes darkened with remembered pain. “I finally left because of it.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider that.”

“No, why should you? I was handy, and you needed someone to amuse yourself with, wasn’t that it?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “No. Walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“Were you so fond of juvenile adulation?” she asked with a laugh.

“It was more.” He finished his coffee. “I’m a single, not a double, Bett. I’ll live alone all my life, except for the occasional diversion. But not you.” He watched her quietly. “Someday you’ll marry and have those kids you used to dream about having. Three, wasn’t it?”

Something odd in his voice touched her and she frowned. But before she could question it, he checked his watch and rose. “We’d better get some rest. Rehearsals are grueling, aren’t they darling? Thanks for the coffee.”