Private Scandals

beautiful, and ambitious; she had a sense of style and taste that was faultless.
    In short, she’d been perfect for him. Except for her inability to understand a few very human flaws.
    When she had discovered them, she’d been unforgiving as stone. And he had lost her.
    Though he still missed her, he understood life continued.
    Now he had found someone else. Deanna was beautiful, ambitious, intelligent. She was as perfect a companion as he could want. And he wanted her—had wanted her since he had first seen her face on the television screen. Now she was more than an image, she was reality. He was going to be very careful with her.
    Sexually, she was a bit repressed, but he could be patient. The idea of taking her away from Chicago, away from the pressures and distractions, had been brilliant. Once she was relaxed, secure, she would belong to him. Until that time he would harness his needs, his frustrations.
    But he hoped it wouldn’t be much longer.

Chapter Eight
    “ M aui,” Fran said over a mouthful of cheeseburger. “For the weekend. That’s so un-Deanna.”
    “Is it?” Deanna paused over her own meal and considered. “Maybe it is, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it. We’re getting a suite in a hotel right on the beach where the brochure says you can see whales. Binoculars,” she said suddenly, and dug in her purse for a pad. “I need a good pair.”
    Fran craned her neck and read the neat list Deanna had started. “Now, that’s our Deanna. Are you going to eat all those fries?”
    “No, help yourself.” Already engrossed in her list, Deanna pushed her plate toward Fran.
    “A weekend in Hawaii sounds pretty serious.” Fran doused the fries with ketchup. “Is it?”
    “It could be.” She glanced up again, and the bloom in her cheeks spoke volumes. “I really think it could be. I feel comfortable with Marshall.”
    Fran grimaced. “Sweet pea, you feel comfortable with an old pair of bunny slippers.”
    “Not that kind of comfortable. I can relax around him. I know he’s not going to pressure me, so that I can . . . just let things happen. When it feels right. I can talk to him about anything.”
    The words came quickly. Too quickly, Fran mused. If she knew Deanna, and she did, she’d have bet a month’s pay her best friend was going out of her way to convince herself.
    “He has this incredible sense of fairness,” Deanna continued. “We’re interested in so many of the same things. And he’s romantic. I didn’t realize how wonderful it would be to have someone send me flowers and arrange candlelight dinners.”
    “That’s because you were always looking for the trapdoor.”
    “Yeah.” Deanna let out a little breath, closed her notebook. “I’m going to tell him about Jamie Thomas.”
    In an automatic gesture of support, Fran reached out and covered Deanna’s hand with hers. “Good. That means you trust him.”
    “I do.” Her eyes darkened with determination. “And I want a normal, healthy relationship with a man. By God, I’m going to have one. I won’t be able to do that until I tell him what happened to me. He’s coming over for dinner tomorrow.”
    Fran abandoned the fries to fold her arms on the table between them. “If you need any moral support, you only have to call.”
    “I’ll be fine. I’ve got to get back,” she said after a glance at her watch. “I’ve got to do a news break at eight-thirty.”
    “You’ve got the ten o’clock tonight, too, don’t you?” Fran stuffed a last fry in her mouth. “Richard and I’ll watch you, while we’re all snuggled up in bed. I’ll make sure he’s naked.”
    “Thanks.” Deanna counted out bills for the tab. “That’ll give me a nice visual while I’m reading the news.”
     
    It was nearly midnight when Deanna climbed into bed. As always, she checked her alarm, then made certain there was a pencil and pad on the nightstand beside the phone. The phone rang just as she was reaching for the light. Instinctively, she picked up the receiver with one hand, the pencil with the other.
    “Reynolds.”
    “You were wonderful tonight.”
    The flutter of pleasure made her smile as she eased back against the pillows. “Marshall. Thanks.”
    “I just wanted you to know I was watching. It’s the next best thing to being with you.”
    “It’s nice to know.” It felt glorious, snuggling back in bed, pleasantly sleepy, with the voice of the man she thought she might love in her ear. “I’ve been