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devastating damage to Bett’s emotions.
    She’d always told herself that she had followed him to New York because of his cold observation that she’d never be star material with all her hang-ups. But sometimes she wondered if it wasn’t because she’d loved him so much.
    Her eyes closed and she could see them together that first evening, when he’d been coaching her in the part.
    “You just can’t let go, can you, Bett?” he’d accused coldly after a half-dozen failed attempts at dialogue. He’d slammed the script down on the coffee table in his small apartment and reached for her. “Well, baby, let’s see if this kind of coaching isn’t what you need the most…!” And he’d kissed her.
    Six years later, she could still feel the wild impact of his mouth on hers. Months of watching him, hoping, praying for just a few seconds in his arms, and it had happened just that suddenly.
    She remembered going stiff from the burst of pleasure, mingled with apprehension, at the intimacy of his hold. Cul was eight years her senior and obviously experienced, and she hadn’t known what he’d expected from her. The expression on his face when he lifted his head had been a revelation.
    “Is that the best you can do?” he’d asked wonderingly.
    She’d flushed and tried to get away, but he’d held her securely against his long, lean body. There was steel in his fingers, in the wiry arms that held her.
    “Not yet,” he’d murmured, studying her. “You’ve always reminded me of Elizabeth the First. Do you remember what they called her, Bett?”
    She’d chewed on her full lower lip to stay its trembling. “Yes.”
    “The Virgin Queen,” he’d continued quietly, searching her face. “Do you have that in common with her, too, as well as her hair and eyes?”
    She’d tried to avert her eyes, but he’d held her face up to his intense study.
    “No wonder you can’t play the part properly,” he’d said then. And he’d smiled. “All right, Miss Hang-ups. Let’s see what we can do about those unexpected inhibitions.”
    And he’d kissed her again. This time it had been give and take, advance and retreat, until he woke the sleeping fires in her and she arched up and gave him her heart.
    He’d sent her home minutes later, without taking what she’d been so eager to give him. And for the weeks that followed, they’d been inseparable, on stage and off. By the end of the summer, she’d been totally committed, and hoping for happily ever after.
    It had come as a wild shock when Cul broke it off. Abruptly, without warning, announcing in front of the entire company, including Bett, that he was leaving for New York to direct his play on Broadway.
    Bett had gone to his apartment that evening to wait for him. And he’d come home with one of the women in the cast, one with a reputation for giving out, and he’d laughed at Bett’s quiet query about the future of their relationship. Both of them had laughed. And Bett had cried herself to sleep. But it had gotten worse. The next day, the whole cast knew about it. Cul left and Bett gritted her teeth and tried to play out the season. But his parting shot had been that she was limited to small summer stock groups, and she’d determined immediately to show him she wasn’t. She’d gotten on the next plane to New York, and there she’d been ever since.
    She sipped her cold coffee with downcast eyes. Well, he’d told her from the very beginning that he wouldn’t get involved with her physically. He wouldn’t take her virginity, even though she blatantly offered it. Perhaps it was as well. He’d announced loudly, and to anyone who cared to listen, that marriage wasn’t one of his future goals. He planned to go through life single, and despite the fact that he and Bett had been a brief item, it was a relationship without a future.
    But they’d had a special kind of relationship, for all that. She could talk to him as she could talk to no one else. And he seemed to