Private Scandals

home.”
    “I have better ways of dealing with you. Angela’s file on you made very interesting reading, Pike.”
    Marshall’s eyes slid to Deanna. “She doesn’t have the file. She destroyed it.”
    “No, Deanna doesn’t have it. But you don’t know what I have, do you?”
    Marshall’s attention snapped back to Finn. “You have no right—”
    “I’ve got the First Amendment. Steer clear, Pike, way clear. Or I’ll break you in half with it.”
    “You bastard.” Fear of exposure propelled Marshall forward. He swung out, more in panic than design. Finn easily avoided the blow and followed it by one punishing fist to the midsection.
    It was over in seconds. Deanna had done no more than squeak in response. Marshall had done no more than moan. And Finn, she realized as she gaped, had made no sound at all.
    Then he crouched down, impossibly graceful and smooth. “Listen carefully. Don’t ever come near Deanna again. Don’t call, don’t write, don’t send a telegram. Are you getting this?” He was satisfied when Marshall blinked. “That should conclude our little interview.” He stepped back to where Deanna still stood, openmouthed, on the stoop. Quietly, he shut the door. “Let’s go.”
    Her legs were jelly. She had to lock her knees to keep from swaying. “Good God, Finn. Good God.”
    “We’re going to have to reheat dinner,” he said as he guided her to the car.
    “You just—I mean you—” She didn’t know what she meant. “We can’t just leave him there.”
    “Of course we can. He doesn’t need paramedics, Deanna. I only wrinkled his tux and bruised his ego.”
    “You hit him.” Once she was seated, strapped in, she pressed both hands to her mouth.
    His black mood had passed. He felt almost sunny as he drove fast through the windswept night. “Not exactly my style, but since he swung first, it worked for me.”
    She turned her head away. She couldn’t explain, couldn’t believe what she was feeling. The way he’d sliced Marshall with words. Sharp and cold as a sword. Then he’d shifted his body aside, graceful as a dancer. She hadn’t seen the blow coming any more than Marshall had. He’d moved sofast, so stunningly. She pressed a hand to her stomach and bit back a little moan.
    “Pull over,” she said in a muffled voice. “Right now.”
    He did, terrified she was about to be sick, disgusted because he hadn’t reined in his temper long enough to make her stay home. “Take it easy, Deanna. I’m sorry you had to see that, but—”
    Whatever else he’d intended to say was lost as she lunged at him. In one fluid move, she tore off her seat belt and whipped toward him. Her mouth was hot and wet and hungry. Through his shock, and instant arousal, he felt the violent thud of her heart.
    And her hands. Jesus. Her hands.
    Cars sped by them. He could only groan as she dived deeper into his mouth, her tongue greedy, her teeth vicious.
    Both of them were panting for air when she leaned back.
    “Well,” he managed, but his mind was wiped as clean as glass. “Well.”
    “I’m not proud of it.” She flopped back in her seat, face flushed, eyes bright. “I don’t approve of intimidation or fighting. I absolutely don’t. Oh God.” With a half laugh, she squeezed her eyes shut. Her body was vibrating like an overheated engine. Intellect, she discovered, could be completely overpowered by glands. “I’m going to explode. Drive fast, will you?”
    “Yeah.” His aching hand trembled a bit as he turned the key again. Then, as he punched the accelerator, he started to grin. The grin became a hard, deep-throated laugh. “Deanna, I’m crazy about you.”
    She had to curl her fingers into fists to keep herself from tearing at his clothes. “We’re both crazy,” she decided. “Drive faster.”
     
    Marshall comforted himself as best he could, pampering his bruised stomach muscles, taking a painkiller. Shame and fury had driven him out of the house. He opted for a drink first, then two, before keeping his date at the opera.
    He hadn’t thought he’d enjoy the music, or thecompany. But both had soothed him. He was a civilized man, he reminded himself. A respected man. He would not be intimidated by some grandstanding reporter like Finn Riley. He would simply bide his time, calmly.
    Enchanted by the diva’s final aria, he still felt peaceful when he pulled in to his driveway, even though his stomach ached dully. Another dose of painkiller would take the edge off, he