Private Scandals

prepared to decline. But this, this was out of nowhere. And it was far more tempting.
    “I’m flattered,” she began. Flabbergasted, she corrected. “I don’t know what to say.”
    “Then I’ll cue you. Say yes.”
    With a quick laugh, Deanna sat back and studied the woman across from her. Eager, impulsive and, yes, ruthless. Not bad qualities all in all. There was also talent and brains and those edgy nerves Angela thought no one noticed. It was the combination that had pushed her to the top, and was keeping her there.
    A top spot on the top show in the market, Deannacalculated. “I wish I could jump at it, Angela. But I need to think this through.”
    “What is there to think about?” The wine was fizzing in Angela’s head. Deanna was just quick enough to save a flute from upending when Angela reached carelessly across the table. “You don’t get offers like this every day in this business, Deanna. Take what there is when you can. Do you know the kind of money I’m talking about? The prestige, the power?”
    “I have some idea.”
    “A quarter of a million a year, to start. And all the benefits.”
    It took Deanna a moment to close her mouth. “No,” she said slowly. “Apparently I didn’t have any idea.”
    “Your own office, your own staff, a car and driver at your disposal. Opportunities to travel, to socialize with the cream.”
    “Why?”
    Pleased, Angela sat back. “Because I can trust you. Because I can depend on you, and because I see something of myself when I look at you.”
    A quick chill danced up Deanna’s spine. “It’s a very big step.”
    “Small ones are a waste of time.”
    “That may be, but I need to think this through. I don’t know if I’m suited.”
    “I think you’re suited.” Angela’s impatience was simmering again. “Why would you doubt it?”
    “Angela, one of the reasons I imagine you’re offering me this job is because I’m a good detail person. Because I’m thorough and obsessively organized. I wouldn’t be any of those things if I didn’t take the time to sort this out.”
    With a nod, Angela took out another cigarette. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be pushing, but I want you with me on this. How much time do you need?”
    “A couple of days. Can I let you know by the end of the week?”
    “All right.” She flicked on her lighter and studied theflame briefly. “I’ll just say one more thing. You don’t belong behind a desk on some local noon show reading the news. You were made for bigger things, Deanna. I saw it in you right from the beginning.”
    “I hope you’re right.” Deanna let out a long breath. “I really do.”
     
    The little gallery off Michigan Avenue was crammed with people. Hardly larger than the average suburban garage, the showroom was brightly lit to suit the bold, splashy paintings arranged nearly frame to frame along the walls. The moment Deanna stepped inside, she was glad she’d followed the impulse to stop in. Not only did it take her mind off Angela’s stunning offer that afternoon, but it allowed her to follow up firsthand on her own interview.
    The air was ripe with sounds and scents. Cheap champagne and clashing voices. And color, she mused. The blacks and grays of the crowd were a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the paintings. She regretted she hadn’t wrangled a camera crew to do a brief update.
    “Quite an event,” Marshall murmured in her ear.
    Deanna turned, smiled. “We won’t stay long. I know this isn’t exactly your style.”
    He glanced around at the frantic colors slashed over canvas. “Not exactly.”
    “Wild stuff.” Fran edged her way through, her husband Richard’s hand firmly gripped in hers. “Your spot this afternoon had some impact.”
    “I don’t know about that.”
    “Well, it didn’t hurt.” Tilting her head up, Fran sniffed the air. “I smell food.”
    “It’s gotten so she can smell a hot dog boiling from three blocks away.” Richard shifted in to drape an arm around Fran. He had a pretty, boyish face that smiled easily. His pale blond hair was conservatively cut, but the tiny hole in his left earlobe had once sported a variety of earrings.
    “It’s heightened sensory awareness,” Fran claimed. “And mine tells me there are pigs-in-a-blanket at three o’clock.Catch you later.” She dragged Richard away.
    “Hungry?” Bumped from behind, Deanna moved comfortably into Marshall’s protective arm.
    “Not really.” Using the advantage of height, he