The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  “Busy place.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes lifted to hers again, and she realized why they weren’t nondescript. He wasn’t simply looking at her: he was looking in. Finn had that ability, that same quick, scalpel gaze that cut right through into your thoughts. Perhaps that was why she found him reassuring.

  “Is there anyone you can think of? Someone you’ve rebuffed? Someone who’s shown a more than casual or friendly interest in you?”

  “No. Really, there’s no one I know who would keep doing something like this. I’m sure it’s a stranger—a viewer, probably. Otherwise I’d probably have noticed them taping me.”

  “Well, the way your show’s been going, that doesn’t narrow the possible suspects.” In an old habit, he doodled on his pad. The doodle became Deanna’s face, the frightened eyes and the mouth that struggled to curve up. “You do a lot of public appearances. Have you noticed any particular face that keeps showing up?”

  “No. I thought of that.”

  “I’ll take the tape with me.” He rose then, tucking his notebook neatly in his pocket. “Someone will come by for the notes.”

  “There’s nothing else, is there?” She rose as well. “There’s really nothing else.”

  “You never know what we might pick up from the tape. Sophistication of equipment or some small identifying sound. In the meantime, try not to worry. This kind of thing happens more often than you think.” And because she kept trying to smile, he wanted to reassure her. “You hear about the big ones, like that woman who keeps breaking into Letterman’s house, but the truth is, it’s not just celebrities who have to deal with obsessions. Not too long ago we had this woman focused on this stockbroker. Nice-looking guy, but no Adonis. Anyhow, she called him at work, at home, sent telegrams, left love notes under the windshield wiper of his car. She even had pictures of herself in a wedding dress that she had doctored with one of him in a tux. Showed it to his neighbors to prove they were married.”

  “What happened?”

  “He took out a peace bond on her, and she broke it by camping on his doorstep. She went in for a psychiatric evaluation. When she got out, she decided she wasn’t in love with the stockbroker anymore. Claims she divorced him.”

  “So the moral is, sometimes these things run their course.”

  “Could be. Thing is, some people don’t have as firm a grip on reality as they might. You’d probably feel better if you tightened up your security a little.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you, Detective Jenner.”

  “I’ll be in touch. A real pleasure meeting you, Miss Reynolds, and you, Mr. Riley. I’ve spent a lot of time with the two of you in my living room.”

  “So, that’s that,” she said as she closed the door behind Jenner.

  “Not by a long shot.” Finn took her firmly by the shoulders. He hadn’t interrupted her interview with Jenner. But now it was his turn. “You’re not working late alone anymore.”

  “Really, Finn—”

  “That’s not negotiable, so don’t give me grief on this. Do you know what went through me when I saw you standing in the hall, terrified, fighting off Crowell?”

  “He was trying to help,” she began, then closed her eyes and sighed. “Yes, yes, I think I do know. I’m sorry. I’ll bring work home when I have to.”

  “Until this thing is resolved, you need twenty-four-hour protection.”

  “A bodyguard?” She would have laughed if she wasn’t afraid he’d take a chunk out of her. “Finn, I won’t work late in the building. I’ll even make sure I have a buddy when I go on any remotes or appearances. But I’m not hiring some thug named Reno to lurk over me.”

  “It’s not unusual for a woman in your position to hire private security.”

  “Whatever my position, I’m still Deanna Reynolds from Topeka, and I refuse to have some big-shouldered hulk frighten off the people I’m trying to reach. I couldn’t stand it, Finn. That’s just too Hollywood for me. I’m not taking this lightly,” she continued. “Believe me, I’m going to take very serious care of myself. But I haven’t been threatened.”

  “You’ve been spied on, followed, taped, harassed by anonymous notes and phone calls.”

  “And it frightens me, I admit it. You were right about the police. I should have called them before. Now that you have, I feel like the whole situation has been put in the right compartment. Let’s give them a chance to do what we pay them for.”

  Frustrated, he stalked down the hall and back. “A compromise,” he said at length. “Christ, I’m always digging up compromises for you.”

  Judging the storm was blowing over, she moved in to wrap her arms around him. “That’s why our relationship is so healthy. What’s the compromise—a bodyguard named Sheila?”

  “You move in here. I’m not budging on this, Deanna. Keep your place; I don’t care. But you live here, with me.”

  “Funny.” In a subtle peace treaty, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I was going to suggest the same solution.”

  He tipped her face up to his. He wanted to ask, badly, if she was agreeing because she was frightened or because she needed him. But he didn’t ask. “What about when I’m out of town?”

  “I’ve been thinking about asking you how you felt about dogs.” Her lips curved against his. “We could go by the pound this weekend. With so many abandoned animals, it seems the right route.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Awards were not important. Quality work and the satisfaction of a job well done were their own reward. Statues and speeches were nothing more than industry hype.

  Deanna didn’t believe any of it.

  For a girl from Kansas whose first on-the-air job had been reporting on a dog show, alighting from a limo in Los Angeles as an Emmy nominee was a thrill. And she didn’t mind admitting it.

  The day was perfect. There was bound to be smog, but she didn’t see it. The sky was the deep, dreamy blue of a watercolor painting, dazzled by the brilliant white sun. A balmy breeze teased the elegant gowns and carefully coiffed hair of the attendees and wafted the scents of perfume and flowers over the enthusiastic crowd.

  “I can’t believe I’m here.” It took all of her willpower not to bounce on the seat of the limo like a kid at the circus. Then she gave up and bounced anyway.

  “You’ve earned it.” Charmed by her, Finn took her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “I know that, up here.” She tapped her temple. “But in here”—she laid her hand on her heart—“I’m afraid someone’s going to pinch me and I’ll wake up and realize it’s only a dream. Ouch.”

  “See, you’re awake.” He grinned as she rubbed her forearm. “And you’re still here.”

  However giddy she felt, she slid gracefully from the limo, tossing her head up as she straightened and scanned the crowd. The sun glinted off her short, beaded gown and scattered light.

  Finn thought she’d chosen well; the strapless column of glittery scarlet made her look young and fresh and every inch the star. Several people in the crowd recognized her instantly and shouted her name.

  Their reaction obviously surprised her, he realized with a hint of a smile. She looked dazed, then dazzled, then delighted. She waved back, not with the careless insouciance of a seasoned veteran, but with genuine pleasure and enthusiasm.

  “I feel like I’m walking into a movie.” She chuckled as she linked hands with Finn. “No, like I’m walking out of the last reel, and I’ve got the hero.”

  He pleased her, and the crowd, by kissing her. Not just a friendly peck but a deep, lingering embrace that gave the paparazzi plenty of fuel. They stood a moment in the flashing sun, a picture-perfect couple in evening dress. “That was because you’re beautiful.” He kissed her again to the eruption of cheers. “And that’s for luck.”

  “Thanks. On both counts.”

  They started toward the building, where fans and onlookers had been parted like the Red Sea by police barricades. Celebrities and press were mingling, creati
ng quick bites that would be shown on the evening news segments.

  She knew some of these people, Deanna thought. Some had come on her show, had sat beside her and chatted like old friends. Others she had met during the benefits and events that became part of the job. She exchanged greetings and good wishes, cheek busses and handclasps as they wandered toward the lobby.

  Mikes slashed out at them, cameras wheeled in their direction, impeding progress.

  “Deanna, how does it feel to be here tonight?”

  “Who designed your dress?”

  “Finn, what’s it like to have a hit show when so many news magazines have failed?”

  “Any marriage plans?”

  “Christ, it’s like an obstacle course,” Finn muttered as they worked their way through the gaggle of reporters.

  “I’m loving every minute of it.” She eased closer, eyes dancing. “Don’t you know when they ask about your dress designer, you’ve made it?”

  “They didn’t ask me.”

  She turned, fussing with his tie. “And you look so nice, too. Very GQ.”

  He grimaced. “Please. I can’t believe I got talked into doing that photo layout.”

  “It was smashing.”

  “I’m a newscaster, not a model.”

  “But you have such cute dimples.”

  They didn’t flash. They didn’t so much as wink as he cornered her with one steely-eyed glare. “Keep that up and I’ll leak the news that you changed your underwear three times before getting into that dress tonight.”

  “Okay, they’re not cute. No matter what Mary Hart said last week on ET.”

  “She said—never mind.” No way was he going to get pulled into that one. “Let’s get a drink before we go in.”

  “Considering the occasion, it’ll have to be champagne. Just one,” she added, pressing a hand to her middle. “I don’t think my system can handle any more.”

  “Wait here. I’ll fight the horde.”

  “I told you you were my hero.”

  She turned, and would have scooted off into a corner, where she could stand and observe, but she found herself face to face with Kate Lowell.

  “Hello, Dee.”

  “Hello, Kate.” Deanna offered a hand and they shook like strangers. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It doesn’t feel as though you mean it,” she said as she straightened her shoulders. “You look terrific, ready to win.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’d like to wish you luck. Really excellent luck, considering your competition.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t. It’s purely selfish on my part. By the way, Rob Winters said to send his best if I ran into you.”

  Deanna’s stiff smile softened. “How is he?”

  “Dying,” Kate said shortly, then let out a breath between her teeth. “Sorry. We’ve been friends for a long time, and it’s hard to watch.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I understand about friendships and loyalties.”

  Kate dropped her gaze. “Direct hit, Dee.”

  “Cheap shot,” she corrected. Instinctively she took Kate’s hand again. There was none of the mannered politeness this time. Just support, basic and unstudied. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you.”

  Kate studied their joined hands, remembered how easy it had once been. “Dee, why didn’t you announce Rob’s condition when he told you about it?”

  “Because he asked me not to.”

  Kate shook her head. “That was always enough for you. I’d wondered if you’d changed.”

  “I have, but that hasn’t.”

  “I really hope you win tonight. I hope you cut her off at the knees.” With this, she turned and walked away.

  As Deanna watched the other woman walk through the crowd, she thought she understood the tears she’d seen in Kate’s eyes, but not the venom in her voice.

  “Well, we have come up in the world.” Angela glided into Deanna’s line of vision, a frothy dream of candy-pink silk and icy diamonds. “Smile for the camera, dear,” she whispered as she leaned forward to air-kiss both of Deanna’s cheeks. “Surely you haven’t forgotten everything I taught you.”

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing.” Deanna let her lips curve up. She hated the fact that her stomach jittered with nerves. Hated more the fact that they were bound to show. “It’s been a long time.”

  “It certainly has. I don’t believe you’ve met my husband. Dan, this is Deanna Reynolds.”

  “A pleasure.” As polished as a fine gem, Dan took Deanna’s hand in his. “You’re every bit as charming as Angela told me.”

  “I’m sure she told you nothing of the kind, but thanks. I saw your pre-Emmy special last night, Angela. I enjoyed it.”

  “Did you?” Angela held up a cigarette for Dan to light. “I have so little time to watch television myself these days.”

  “That’s interesting. I’d think that would insulate you from your audience. I love to watch. I suppose I’m really the average viewer.”

  “Average isn’t something I’d settle for.” Angela’s gaze shifted over Deanna’s shoulder, smoldered. “Hello, Finn. Isn’t it interesting that we’d all have to come to Los Angeles to have a reunion?”

  “Angela.” Smoothly, he passed Deanna her glass of champagne, then slipped an arm around her waist. “You’re looking well.”

  “He used to be much more clever with his compliments,” Angela told Dan. She made the rest of the introductions and, spotting a camera out of the corner of her eye, angled herself into a prominent position. “I really must powder my nose before we go in. Deanna, come along with me. No woman goes to the ladies’ room alone.”

  Though Finn tightened his grip, Deanna eased away. “Sure.” Better to face whatever unpleasantness Angela had in mind now, she decided, than wait for it to be played out in public. “Finn, I’ll meet you inside in a minute.”

  To offer the camera a friendly tableau, Angela hooked her arm through Deanna’s. “We haven’t had one of our private talks for ages, have we?”

  “It would be a little tough, since we haven’t seen each other in two years.”

  “Always so literal.” With a light laugh, Angela swung into the ladies’ lounge. It was nearly empty, as she’d hoped. Later it would be full, but now people were eager to be seated. She walked to the mirrored counter, pulled out a chair and did exactly what she’d said she would do. She powdered her nose. “You’ve chewed off most of your lipstick,” she said dryly. “Nervous?”

  “Excited.” Deanna remained standing, but set her glass aside to dig a lipstick out of her evening bag. “I imagine that’s a natural reaction to being nominated.”

  “It becomes routine after a while. I have several awards, you know. Interesting that you’ve been nominated for that show on date rape. I’d considered that more of a self-confessional hour, not a mix of views.” Angela patted her hair, searching for any out-of-place strands as she turned her face side to side. “I imagine Finn will cop one of the prime-time statues himself when they come out. He’s well liked in the industry, and he’s been able to create a show that appeals to the news buffs as well as the viewer looking for entertainment.”

  “I thought you didn’t watch television.”

  Angela’s eyes sharpened. It surprised Deanna that their reflection didn’t leave slices on the glass. “I glance at something now and then, if I think it might interest me. Of course, Finn has always interested me.” Slowly, with relish, she glided her tongue over her lips. “Tell me, do his eyes still go that wicked cobalt shade when he’s aroused?” She dabbed perfume at her wrists. “You do manage to arouse him occasionally, don’t you?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I may do that—if I get him alone. Then again, if I get him alone, he might forget all about you.” Smiling, she twirled up a spiral of hot pink lipstick. “So what would be the point?”

  Deanna wasn’t nervous any longer, she was simply irked. “The point mi
ght be that you’re married, and that Finn stopped being interested in you a long time ago.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Angela’s laugh was as brisk and chilly as a puff of December air. “Darling, if I decided to have an affair with Finn—and Dan’s a very understanding man, so my marriage is no obstacle—he’d not only be willing, he’d be grateful.”

  Moving beyond irked, Deanna felt little knots of tension twine in her stomach, but her smile came easily. “Angela.” There was a laugh in her voice. “Trying to make me jealous is a waste of time. You had sex with Finn. I know that. And I’m not naive enough to imagine he didn’t find you tremendously attractive and alluring. But what I have with him now is on an entirely different level. You’re only embarrassing yourself by trying to convince me he’s like some trained mutt who’ll come running if you snap your fingers.”

  Angela slapped the lid on the lipstick. “You’re very cool, aren’t you?”

  “No, not really. I’m just happy.” She sat then, hoping they could bury at least the sharpest edge of the hatchet. “Angela, we were friends once—or at least friendly. I’m grateful for the opportunity you gave me to learn and observe. Maybe the time’s passed where we can be friendly, but I don’t see why we have to snipe at each other. We’re competitors, but there’s more than enough room for both of us.”

  “Do you think you can compete with me?” Angela began to shake, from her shoulders down to her spine. “Do you really think you can come close to what I’ve achieved, to what I have, to what I’m going to have?”

  “Yes,” Deanna said, and rose. “Yes, I do. And I don’t have to resort to planting lies in the tabloids or low-level espionage to do it. You’ve been in the business long enough to tolerate a little heat, Angela.”

  “You cocky bitch. I’ll bury you.”

  “No, you won’t.” Her pulse was drumming now, a primitive tom-tom rhythm that pumped through her blood in anticipation of a fight. “You’re going to have a hell of a time keeping up with me.”

  On a cry of outrage, Angela snatched the champagne flute and tossed the contents in Deanna’s face. Two women who entered the room froze like statues as Angela followed up with a vicious slap.