Private Scandals

was her saying no. Absolutely not.
    For the first time in his life he wanted something and someone he wasn’t sure he could have.
    He levered himself up so that they sat, naked, facing each other, both still achy and sated with sex. The plan was, he reminded himself, to keep it light, natural.
    “It shouldn’t be such a surprise, Deanna. We’ve been lovers for more than a year.”
    “Yes, but . . . we haven’t even resolved living together yet—”
    “One of my points. My strategy in getting you to live with me; then easing you into marriage just isn’t panning out.”
    “Your strategy?”
    He didn’t mind the edge in her voice. It matched the one in his own. “Kansas, the only way to handle you is like a chess game. A man has to think a half dozen moves ahead and outflank you.”
    “I don’t think I care for that analogy.”
    “It’s an accurate one.” He pinched her chin lightly between his fingers. “You spend so much time thinking things through, trying to avoid making the wrong move. I have to give you a shove.”
    “Is that what this proposal is?” She batted his hand away. “A shove?”
    “We’ll call it more of a nudge, since I’m willing to let you think it over.”
    “That’s generous of you,” she said between her clenched teeth.
    “Actually,” he continued, “I’m giving us both time. I can’t say I’m completely sold on the idea myself.”
    She blinked. “Excuse me?”
    It was inspired, he realized. Absolutely inspired. Two could play tweak-the-ego. “We’re coming from opposite fields here on this subject. You from a big, happy family, all those traditional trappings, where ‘till death do us part’ means something. For me, marriage has always meant ‘till divorce do us part.’ ”
    Incensed, she snatched up her blouse, swore, then tossed it aside. “For someone so cynical, I’m surprised you’d consider it.”
    His mouth quivered as she dragged on his T-shirt. “I’m not cynical, I’m realistic. Marriage has become like newspapers. You toss them out when you’re through, and not a hell of a lot of people bother to recycle.”
    “Then what’s the point?” She yanked on her shorts.
    “I’m in love with you.” He said it quietly, simply, and stopped her from storming out of the room. “I’d like to think about the idea of starting a life with you, having children, giving some of those traditional trappings a shot.”
    His words deflated her anger. “Damn you, Finn,” she said helplessly.
    He grinned up at her. “Then you’ll think about it.”

Chapter Twenty
    D an Gardner didn’t marry Angela for her money. Not entirely. Some people were unkind enough to think he had—even to say he had. During the first few weeks of their marriage there was considerable speculation in the tabloid press about the matter, as well as the disparity in their ages: ten years almost to the day. A firm believer in publicity, Dan had planted the articles himself.
    But there were other reasons he had married her. He admired her skills. He understood her flaws and, most important to him, how to exploit them. It was he, recognizing her insecurities and her suspicions, who had insisted on signing a prenuptial agreement. Divorce would not benefit him. But Dan wasn’t planning on divorce—unless it benefited him. It was he—knowing her weakness for romance and her need to be the center of love—who arranged for candlelit dinners for two, quiet weekends in the country. When she needed attention beyond what he could provide, he arranged for that as well. As Angela became more and more obsessed with eroding ratings, he picked up the threads of several A. P. Production projects and deftly increased the profits.
    He might not have married her for her money, but he intended to enjoy it.
    “Look at this!” Angela heaved a copy of TV Guide across the room. It landed with Deanna’s picture faceup. “Just look! ‘Daytime’s new princess,’ my ass.” Her silk robe billowed out like a sail as she paced the snowy carpet of her penthouse. “ ‘Warm and accessible, sexy and sharp.’ They fawned over her, Dan. Goddamn it, they gave her the cover and two full pages.”
    “Don’t let it spook you.” Because they were staying in for the evening, Dan poured her a full flute of champagne. She was easier to handle when she was drunk and weepy. And when she was needy, the sex was simply stupendous. “She’s just got a longer way to fall now, that’s all.”
    “That’s