Private Scandals

ice-edged stare at Marshall, he strolled out.
    “Was it necessary to bring him into our private business?”
    Deanna cut him off with a look. “Can you really have the gall to criticize me at a time like this?”
    “No.” Marshall’s shoulders drooped. “No, of course not. You’re right. It’s just that I find this difficult, and embarrassing enough without the gossip spreading through the newsroom.”
    “Finn has more interesting things to discuss than your sex life, Marshall. I promise you. Now if you have something to say, you’d better say it. I only have a few minutes.”
    “Deanna.” He stepped forward and would have reached for her, but the flash in her eyes warned him. “I have no excuse for what happened—or nearly happened. But I want you to know there’s nothing between me and Angela. It was an impulse,” he continued, speaking quickly when Deanna remained silent. “Purely physical and meaningless. It had nothing to do with what I feel for you.”
    “I’m sure it didn’t,” she said after a moment. “And I believe you. I believe it was impulsive, meaningless sex.”
    Relief flooded through him. He hadn’t lost her. His eyes brightened as he reached out to her. “I knew you’d understand. I knew the minute I saw you that you were a woman generous enough to accept me, to understand me. That’s why I knew we were meant to be together.”
    Rigid as stone, she stared up at him. “Take your hands off me,” she said quietly. “Right now.”
    “Deanna.” When he only tightened his hold, she fought back a bubble of panic, a quick, ugly sensory memory, and shoved.
    “I said now.” Free, she stepped back and took a deep, steadying breath. “I said I believed you, Marshall, and I do. What you did with Angela had nothing to do with your feelings for me. However, it had everything to do with mine for you. I trusted you, and you betrayed that trust. That makes it impossible for us to part friends. So, we’ll just part.”
    “You’re hurt now.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “So you’re not being reasonable.” It was like Patricia, he thought. So much like Patricia.
    “Yes, I’m hurt,” she agreed. “But I’m being very reasonable.” A ghost of a smile flitted around her mouth, as insulting as a slap. “I make a habit out of being reasonable. I’m not calling you any of the names that occur to me.”
    “You see this as my fault. As a weakness.” Confident in his skills as a mediator, he shifted gears. “What you haven’t yet been able to see is your part in it. Your responsibility. I’m sure you’ll agree that no successful relationship is the result of one person’s efforts. All the weeks we’ve been together I’ve been patient, waiting for you to allow our relationship to move to the natural and very human phase of physical pleasure.”
    She didn’t think he could shock her again. But she’d been wrong. “You’re saying because I wouldn’t go to bed with you, I forced you to turn to Angela?”
    “You’re not seeing the grays, Deanna,” he said patiently. “I respected your wishes, your need to progress slowly. Atthe same time, it’s necessary for me to satisfy my own needs. Angela was certainly a mistake—”
    She nodded slowly. “I see. I’m glad we straightened this out, Marshall, before it went any further. Now I’m going to very reasonably tell you to go to hell.”
    She started out, her eyes going to smoke when he blocked the doorway. “We haven’t finished, Deanna.”
    “I’ve finished, and that’s all that counts. We both made a mistake, Marshall, a big one. Now get out of my way, and stay out of it before I make another one and embarrass us both by tearing the skin off your face.”
    Stiffly, he stepped aside. “I’ll be ready to discuss this when you’ve calmed down.”
    “Oh, I’m calm,” she muttered as she headed for the studio. “I’m dead calm, you bastard.”
    She shoved through the studio doors, strode across the floor and took her place behind the anchor desk.
    Finn watched her through the first break. Once he was satisfied she was under control, he slipped out and walked to the elevator.
     
    Over a celebratory glass of champagne, Angela watched the noon report in her office. She didn’t give a damn about the words or images, but she was interested, even fascinated, by Deanna. The girl looked as cool and sweet as an ice-cream soda, Angela thought. Except for the eyes. Angela would have been bitterly disappointed if