Free LovePlay by Diana Palmer

rushing back home to marry her. But she was beginning to realize that it was more complicated than that.
    He’d repeated over and over that he didn’t want marriage, that he didn’t want ties. Did she have the right to force him into it? If he didn’t want fatherhood, mightn’t it be better for the baby to just have the mother who wanted and loved him?
    All the worrying made her tired. She crawled into bed and closed her eyes. She had a little more time that she’d begged off from Dick Hamilton, the stage manager. She’d use it to sleep. Tonight was opening night, and too much depended on her role now to blow it over concern for Cul’s reaction. She’d worry abut that later.
    She woke up still worried and undecided. She dressed hurriedly and went to the theater.
    “Feeling better?” Dick asked, smiling at her from his perch on a chair backstage as technicians and prop people scurried around actors getting things set.
    She smiled back. Dick was bald and fiftyish, with a comforting manner. Nobody could ask for a better manager. “Much better,” she lied. “Just a bug.”
    He studied her. “Feel like going on?”
    “On opening night? You’ve got to be kidding!” She laughed.
    “Okay, let’s get to it.”
    Everyone was nervous, even David. He stopped by her dressing room, with a pair of worn green socks in hand. “Feeling okay?” he asked with smiling concern.
    She grinned. “Just great, thanks.”
    “Told Cul yet?”
    The smile faded. “No.”
    “Don’t worry, he’ll be tickled pink,” he assured her. He held up his socks. “My good luck charm. I never go out on opening night without them.”
    Her eyebrows lifted. “Do you wash them?”
    He chuckled. “Well, yes, but the sentiment’s there, all the same. What’s yours?”
    She sighed, tugging a tiny sterling silver cross out of her neckline and holding it up. “My mother gave it to me when I started summer stock. I never take it off through a performance.”
    “Actors are nuts.” He chuckled.
    “Eccentric,” she corrected. “Cul always used to carry a turquoise key chain along with him. I suppose we’ve all got our little quirks.”
    “I suppose. Well, break a leg, darling.”
    “I’ll do my best. You, too.”
    He winked and was gone. She sat staring into the mirror as she put on her stage makeup. Her heart hammered as she wondered if Cul would be out there tonight to watch. Surely he wouldn’t miss opening night, even of a revival. If he came, then she could tell him after the show.
    What if it wasn’t a success? She frowned. No, that was defeatist thinking. Of course it would be a success. It was Cul’s play, wasn’t it? Would he bring Cherrie with him? Her heart fell. Damn men everywhere!
    She was putting on the final touches when the door suddenly opened and Cul walked in, bigger than life in his dark evening clothes. The hand mirror she was holding slipped out of her nerveless fingers and hit the table with a clatter.
    “Surprised to see me?” he asked.
    “A little,” she confessed. She wanted to get up and run to him, but the expression on his deeply tanned face was forbidding. “You look well.”
    “California is good for any ailment,” he murmured, studying her carelessly. “Nervous?”
    “I’m always nervous before a performance.” She ran the brush through her hair again, trying to will her hand not to tremble.
    “I tried to ring you this morning. You were out, so I called Janet. She said you were with David.”
    “Yes,” she said noncommittally. “Did you want something?”
    “To wish you luck.”
    “I make my own luck,” she said, feeling suddenly strong and capable. She stared at him in the mirror. “How’s Cherrie? Did you bring her with you?”
    His face hardened. “Bett…”
    “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make a scene,” she assured him. Her eyes searched his face.
    “I never thought you were.” He frowned, studying her. “You’re different.”
    “I’m pregnant.”
    She hadn’t