Private Scandals

scheduling conflicts.”
    “It happens.” He was more interested in nibbling on her fingers than talking shop.
    “Not like this. We tried to reschedule, gave them an open date, and got the same response. I really wanted her on in November, but I didn’t contact her personally because I didn’t want it to seem like calling in a favor from a friend.” She shook her head, remembering how warm, then how distant Kate had been when they’d seen each other in Angela’s office. “Damn it, we used to be friends.”
    “Friendships are often one of the first casualties of this business. Don’t let it get you down, Kansas.”
    “I’m trying not to. I know we’ll get someone else. I guess I feel snubbed, personally and professionally.” She made an effort to push it out of her mind. Their time was too precious to waste. “This is nice.”
    “What is?”
    “Just sitting here, doing nothing. With you.”
    “I like it myself. Kind of habit-forming.” He stroked a finger over the bracelet she wore. Since his return from Moscow, he hadn’t seen her without it. “Barlow James is in town.”
    “Mmm. I heard. Do you want something to eat?”
    “No.”
    “Good.” She sighed lustily. “Neither do I. I don’t want to move all day. All wonderful Sunday.”
    An absolutely free Sunday for both of them, she mused. And she didn’t want to spoil it by mentioning the latest note she’d found mixed with her viewer mail.
    I know you don’t really love him, Deanna.
Finn Riley can’t mean as much to you as I will.
I can wait for you.
I’ll wait forever.
    Of course, that note had been nothing compared to the one from the Alabamian truck driver who wanted her to see the country from the bed in his sixteen-wheeler. Or the self-ordained minister who claimed to have had a vision of her naked—a sign from God that she, and her checkbook, were meant to join him in his work.
    So it was nothing to worry about. Really, nothing at all.
    “I had a meeting with him yesterday.”
    She blinked. “Who?”
    “Barlow James.” Because he could see she was clicking into her think mode, Finn tugged at her ear. “Keep up, will you?”
    “Sorry. Where’s he sending you now?”
    “I have to leave for Paris in a few days. I thought you might like to fly out there next weekend.”
    “Fly out to Paris?” She turned to look at him. “For the weekend?”
    “You take the Concorde. We eat French food, see French sights and make love in a French hotel. I might even be able to fly back with you.”
    The idea made her sit upright. “I can’t imagine flying off to Paris for a weekend.”
    “You’re a celebrity,” he reminded her. “You’re supposed to do things like that. Don’t you ever read fan magazines?”
    Her eyes were alight with the possibilities. “I’ve never been to Europe.”
    “You’ve got a passport, don’t you?”
    “Sure. I even renewed it recently, a habit from my reporting days, when I nursed the vague hope of copping some exciting foreign assignment.”
    “So, I’ll be your exciting foreign assignment.”
    “If I could clear my schedule . . . I will clear my schedule.” She twisted around to throw her arms around him.
    “Where are you going?” he demanded, tightening his grip when she started to wriggle away.
    “I have to make a list. I have to get a Berlitz tape and a guidebook, and—”
    “Later.” He laughed his way into the kiss. “God, you’re predictable, Kansas. Whatever I toss at you, you make a list.”
    “I’m organized.” She thumped a fist against his chest. “That doesn’t mean I’m predictable.”
    “You can write up six lists later. I haven’t told you about my meeting with Barlow.”
    But she wasn’t listening. She’d need one of those mini video recorders, she decided. Like Cassie had. And a phrase book. “What?” She blinked when Finn tugged on her hair. “The meeting with Barlow,” she said, tucking her mental list aside. “You just said he was sending you to Paris.”
    “That’s not what the meeting was about. It was a continuation of discussions we’ve been having on and off for about a year.”
    “The news magazine.” She grinned. “He won’t give up, will he?”
    “I’m going to do it.”
    “I think it’s—you’re what!” She jerked upright again. “You’re going to do it?”
    He’d expected her to be surprised. Now he was hoping she’d be pleased. “It’s taken us a while to agree on terms and format.”
    “But I didn’t think you