"Roberts, Nora - Private Scandals" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

"All right, but--"
Still dazed, Deanna stared at the phone as the dial tone hummed. A couple of details had been overlooked, she
mused. What the hell was this morning's topic, and who were the guests that needed such special care?

Deanna stepped into the green room with an uneasy smile on her face and a fresh pot of coffee in her hand. She
knew the topic now, and scanned the seven scheduled guests cautiously, like a veteran soldier surveying a mine field.
Marital triangles. Deanna took a bracing breath. Two couples and the other women who had almost destroyed their
marriages. A mine field might have been safer.
"Good morning." The room remained ominously silent except for the murmur of the morning news from



the television. "I'm Deanna
Reynolds. Welcome to Angela's. Can I freshen anyone's coffee?"
"Thank you." The man seated in a chair in the corner shifted the open briefcase on his lap, then held out his cup. He
gave Deanna a quick smile that was heightened by the amusement glittering out of soft brown eyes. "I'm Dr. Pike.
Marshall Pike." He lowered his voice as Deanna topped off his cup. "Don't worry, they're unarmed."
Deanna's eyes lifted to his, held. "They still have teeth and nails," she murmured.
She knew who he was, the segment expert, a psychologist who would attempt to cap this particular can of worms
before the roll of ending credits. Mid-thirties, she gauged, with the quick expertise of a cop or a reporter. Confident,
relaxed, attractive. Conservative, judging by his carefully trimmed blond hair and well-tailored chalk-striped suit. His
wing tips were polished to a high gleam, his nails were manicured and his smile was easy.
"I'll watch your flank," he offered, "if you watch mine."
She smiled back. "Deal. Mr. and Mrs. Forrester?" Deanna paused as the couple glanced toward her. The woman's
face was set in a resentful scowl, the man's in miserable embarrassment. "You'll be on first ... with Miss Draper."
Lori Draper, the last segment of the triangle, beamed with excitement. She looked more like a bouncy cheerleader
ready to execute a flashy C jump than a sultry vamp. "Is my outfit okay for TV?"
Over Mrs. Forrester's snort, Deanna assured her it was. "I know the basic procedure was explained to all of you in
the pre-interview. The Forresters and Miss Draper will go out first--"
"I don't want to sit next to her." Mrs. Forrester's hiss squeezed through her tightly primmed mouth.
"That won't be a problem--"
"I don't want Jim sitting next to her, either."
Lori Draper rolled her eyes. "Jeez, Shelly, we broke it off months ago. Do you think I'm going to jump him on national
TV,



or what?"
"I wouldn't put anything past you." Shelly snatched her hand away as her husband tried to pat it. "We're not sitting
next to her," she said to Deanna. "And Jim's not going to talk to her, either. Ever."
This statement set the match to the smoldering embers in triangle number two. Before Deanna could open her
mouth, everyone was talking at once. Accusations and bitterness flew through the room. Deanna glanced toward
Marshall Pike and was greeted with that same easy smile and a lift of one elegant shoulder.
"All right." Deanna pitched her voice over the din as she stepped into the fray. "I'm sure you all have valid points, and
quite a bit to say. Why don't we save it for the show? All of you agreed to come on this morning to tell your sides of
the story, and to look for some possible resolutions. I'm sure we can arrange the seating to suit everyone."
She ran briskly through the rest of the instructions, controlling the guests in the same way a kindergarten teacher
controls recalcitrant five-year-olds. With determined cheerfulness and a firm hand.
"Now, Mrs. Forrester--Shelly--Jim, Lori, if you'll all come with me, we'll get you settled and miked."
Ten minutes later, Deanna stepped back into the green room, grateful that no blood had been spilled. While the