Private Scandals

herself to pleasure. “I believe you have unlimited potential.”
    She sighed, tightening in response as he hardened inside her. “I always want to be the best. It’s probably a flaw.”
    “I don’t think so,” he murmured. She arched to meet him, already shuddering over the first peak. “It’s definitely a virtue.”
     
    “Deanna, why would a sharp woman like you continue this sentimental attachment to a loser?”
    “It’s not sentimental.” Deanna sniffed as she unlocked the door to her apartment. “It’s a very practical, very logical loyalty. The Cubs are going to surprise everyone this year.”
    “Yeah, right.” After indulging in a snort, Finn followed her inside. “It would be a surprise if they managed to crawl out of the basement. When’s the last time the Cubs came close?”
    That stung. “That’s not the point.” Her voice, despite her best intentions, was very prim. “They have heart.”
    “Too bad they don’t have bats.”
    She stuck her nose in the air and turned to her answering machine. “Excuse me. I have to check my messages.”
    “No problem.” Grinning, he dropped down on the couch. “We can finish this later. I probably didn’t mention that I was captain of the debate team in college. And this is one I can’t lose.”
    To show her disdain, she stabbed the Play button.
    “Deanna, Cassie. Sorry to bother you at home—even if you’re not there. We’ve got a couple of changes in Monday’s schedule. I’ll just fax them to you. If you have any questions, you know where to reach me. And, oh hell, we’ve had a lot of calls on the tabloid article. I’ve screened a lot of them out, but if you want to respond, I have a list of reporters you may want to agree to speak with. I’ll be in most of the weekend. Call if you want me to set something up.”
    “She never asked any questions,” Deanna murmured. “No one at the office asked any questions at all.”
    “They know you.”
    She nodded, switching off the machine for a moment. “You know, Finn, as hard as the job can be, as much energy as it demands, I wake up some mornings with the feeling that I’ve fallen into clover.”
    “If you ask me, making a living out of chatting for an hour a day smells more like gravy.”
    That made her smile a little. “You handle the earthquakes. I’ll handle the heartaches.”
    He tugged off his jacket. “It’s a shame to waste all those brains.”
    “I’m not wasting them,” she began hotly. “I’m—” But she caught the glint in his eye and stopped. He was only trying to draw her in again. “No thanks, captain. I’m not going to debate you.” She turned back to the answering machine, stopped again. “Do you ever worry that someone’s going to take it all away from you? Tell you one day that it’s over, that there’ll be no more cameras?”
    “No.” His confidence, the easy arrogance of it, made her smile widen. “And neither should you.” He tipped her chin up, kissed her. “You’re terrific at fluff.”
    “Shut up, Finn.” She stabbed the Play button again, then scribbled down the brief message from Simon on a potential hitch on tomorrow’s show, another from Fran telling her the hitch had been diverted. She waited through the blank tape on a delayed hang-up, then gritted her teeth over three calls from reporters who’d managed to wangle her unlisted number.
    “You all right?” Finn came up behind her to rub the tension from her shoulders.
    “Yes.” She indulged herself a moment by leaning back against him. “I’m fine. I have to decide whether to refuse to comment or to draft a statement. I guess I don’t want to think about it yet.”
    “Then don’t.”
    “Playing ostrich won’t make it go away.” She straightened, stepped aside to stand on her own. “I want to make the right decision. I hate making mistakes.”
    “Then you’ve got two choices. You react emotionally, or you react like a reporter.”
    Her brow creased as she thought it through. “Or I combine the two,” she said softly. “I’ve been thinking about doing a show on date rape. I kept pulling back because I thought I was too close. But maybe I’m just close enough.”
    “Why would you put yourself through that, Deanna?”
    “Because I’ve been through it. Because men like Jamie walk away from it. And because . . .” She let out a long breath that threatened to catch in her throat. “I’m tired of being ashamed that I didn’t do anything about it. I’ve got