Private Scandals

luminous.”
    She laughed. “I’m working on it.”
    “I believe I have something that might add to the glow. Finn contacted me this morning.”
    Relief came one heartbeat before pleasure. “How is he?”
    “In his element.”
    “Yes.” She looked out at the lake, where pale fingers of moonlight nudged past clouds to brush the water. The silhouettes of boats rocked gently in the current. “I suppose he is.”
    “You know, between the two of us, we might be able to apply enough pressure to convince him to do that news magazine and keep his butt in Chicago.”
    “I can’t.” Though she wished she could. “He has to do what suits him best.”
    “Don’t we all,” Barlow said with a sigh. “Now, I’ve dulled some of that glow. This should bring it back.” He took a long slim box from his inside jacket pocket. “Finn asked me to pick this up for you. Something he had made before he was called away. I’m to tell you he’s sorry he can’t give it to you himself.”
    She said nothing as she stared at its contents. The bracelet was delicately fashioned of oval gold links, cut to catch the light and joined together by the rainbow hue of multicolored gems. Emerald, sapphire, ruby, tourmaline fired and flashed in the moonlight. At the center a filigreed D and R flanked a brilliant array of sizzling diamonds that shaped a star.
    “The star’s self-explanatory, I believe,” Barlow told her. “It’s to commemorate your first year. We’re confident there’ll be many more.”
    “It’s beautiful.”
    “Like the woman it was made for,” Barlow said, slipping it from the box to clasp it around her wrist. “The boy certainly has taste. You know, Deanna, we need a strong hour on Tuesday nights. You may not feel comfortable using your influence to persuade him to fill it. But I do.” He winked and, patting her shoulder, left her alone.
    “You’re too damn far away,” she said quietly, rubbing a fingertip over the bracelet.
    She had so much that she wanted, she reminded herself. So much that she’d worked toward. So why was she still so unsettled? Very much like the boats on the water below, she mused. Anchored, yes, but still shifting, still tugging against the tide.
    Her show was rapidly becoming national. But she had yet to select a new apartment. She was enjoying national exposure in the media, most of it flattering. And she was standing alone at a party thrown in her honor, feeling lost and discontented.
    For the first time in her life her professional goals and personal ones seemed out of balance. She knew exactly what she wanted for her career, and could see the steps toward achieving it so clearly. She felt capable and confident when she thought of pushing Deanna’s Hour to the top of the market. And whenever she stood in front of the audience, the camera on and focused, she felt incredibly alive, completely in control, with just enough giddy pleasure thrown in to make it all a continual thrill.
    She wasn’t taking success for granted, for she knew toowell the caprices of television. But she knew that if the show was canceled tomorrow, she would pick up, go on and start over.
    Her personal needs weren’t so clear-cut, nor was the route she wanted to take. Did she want the traditional home and marriage and family? If it was possible to mix that kind of ideal with a high-powered and demanding career, she would find a way.
    Or did she want what she had now? A place of her own, a satisfying yet strangely independent relationship with a fascinating man. A man she was madly in love with, she admitted. And who, though the words hadn’t been said, she was certain loved her as deeply.
    If they changed what they had, she might lose this breathless, stirring excitement. Or she might discover something more soothing and equally thrilling to replace it.
    And because she couldn’t see the answer, because the confusion in her heart blinded her vision, she struggled all the harder to separate intellect from emotion.
    “There you are.” Loren Bach strode out on the balcony, a bottle of champagne in one hand, a glass in the other. “The guest of honor shouldn’t be hiding in the shadows.” He topped off her glass before setting the bottle aside on the glass table beside him. “Particularly when the media is in attendance.”
    “I was just admiring your view,” she countered. “And giving that media a chance to miss me.”
    “You’re a sharp woman, Deanna.” He clicked his glass against hers.