Private Scandals by Nora Roberts Page B

tilting her head up to Finn’s. “Run along, dear.” Her voice was a purr as she released Deanna’s hand. “I’ll handle things from here.”
    “Why don’t I fix that drink?” Finn shifted away from Angela when Deanna’s quick footsteps rapped up the stairs.
    “I’m sure there’s champagne back there,” Angela told him as he walked behind the rosewood bar. “I want to toast your homecoming with the best.”
    Obliging, Finn took a bottle from the small refrigerator built into the back of the bar. He considered several different ways to handle the situation with Angela as he removed the foil and twisted the wire.
    “I tried to phone you several times last night,” she began.
    “When I got in, I let the machine pick up. I was pretty wiped out.” The first lie—but not the last, he decided with a grimace as he popped the cork. Bubbling wine fizzed up to the lip, then retreated.
    “I understand.” She crossed to the bar, laid a hand on his. “And you’re here now. It’s been a long six months.”
    Saying nothing, he poured her wine and opened a bottle of club soda for himself.
    “Aren’t you joining me?”
    “I’ll stick with this for now.” He had a feeling he’d need a clear head tonight. “Angela, you went to an awful lot of trouble. It wasn’t necessary.”
    “Nothing is too much trouble for you.” She sipped the wine, watching him over the rim.
    Perhaps it was the coward’s way to keep the bar between them. But his eyes were direct, steady and cool. “We had some good times, Angela, but we can’t go back.”
    “We’ll be moving forward,” she agreed. She brought his hand to her lips, drew the tip of his finger into her mouth. “We were so good together, Finn. You remember, don’t you?”
    “I remember.” And his blood pounded in response. He cursed himself for being as mindless as one of Pavlov’s dogs. “It’s just not going to work.”
    Her teeth nipped sharply into his flesh, surprising, and arousing, him. “You’re wrong,” she murmured. “I’ll show you.” The doorbell chimed again, and she smiled. “Later.”
     
    He felt like a man locked behind bars of velvet. The house was crowded with people, friends, coworkers, network brass, associates, all happily celebrating his return. The food was fabulous and exotic, the music low and bluesy. He wanted to escape.
    He didn’t mind being rude, but understood if he attempted to leave, Angela would create a scene that would reverberate from coast to coast. There were too many people in the business here for an altercation to go unreported. And he much preferred reporting news, rather than being reportedon. With that in mind, he opted to tough it out, even with the inevitable messy showdown with her at the end of the interminable party.
    At least the air was clear and fresh on the terrace. He was a man who could appreciate the scent of spring blossoms and newly cut grass, of mingling women’s perfumes and spicy food. Perhaps he would have enjoyed being alone to absorb the night, but he’d learned to be flexible when there was no choice.
    And he had the talent for listening and exchanging conversation while his mind wandered. For now he let it trail to his cabin, where he would sit by the fire with a book and a brandy, or hunch over his bait box making new lures. Alone. The fantasy of being alone kept him sane through discussions of ratings and programming.
    “I tell you, Riley, if they don’t beef up Tuesday nights, we’re going to face another cutback in the news division. Makes me sick to think about it.”
    “I know what you mean. Nobody’s forgotten the body count from two years ago.” He spotted Deanna. “Excuse me a minute, there’s something I have to do.” He squeezed through the crowd on the terrace and slipped his arms around her. When she stiffened, he shook his head. “This isn’t a come-on, it’s a diversion.”
    “Oh?” Automatically, she matched her steps to his as he danced. “From