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

money, the position, the power. Christ, New York." She blew out a breath that fluttered her bangs. She hadn't fully
understood how much she wanted all those things until they had been within reach and she'd had to let them go. "And
the chance to work with you. Really work with you, that isn't easy for me to turn my back on."
"But you are." Angela's tone was cool. "That's precisely what you're doing."
"It's just not for me. Other factors just got in the way, no matter how hard I tried to reposition them. My ambitions run
in front of the camera. And I'm happy in Chicago. My job, my home, friends are here."
Angela tapped out the cigarette in quick, short bursts, like machine-gun fire. "And Marshall? Did he factor into this
decision?"
Deanna thought of the pot of red hibiscus on her desk. "Somewhat. I do have feelings for him. I'd like to give them a
chance."
"I have to tell you, you're making a mistake. You're letting details and personal feelings cloud your professional
judgment."
"I don't think so." Deanna crossed the



room to sit again, leaned forward. It was a tricky business, she thought, turning down an offer without seeming
ungrateful. Particularly when the offer had taken on all the connotations of a favor to a friend. "I've looked at this from
every angle. That's what I do--occasionally what I overdo. Your offer wasn't easy to turn down, and I don't do it lightly.
I'll always be grateful and incredibly flattered that you had enough faith in me to ask."
"So you're going to sit back and read copy?" Now it was Angela who rose. Fury was bubbling so hot within her she
could feel it searing under her skin. She'd offered the girl a feast, and she was settling for crumbs. Where was the
gratitude? Where was the fucking loyalty? "Your choice," she said coolly as she sat behind her desk. "Why don't you
take a few more days--the weekend, while I'm away--in case you have any second thoughts." She shook her head to
cut off any comment from Deanna. "We'll talk again Monday," Angela said in dismissal. "Between tapings. Pencil it in
for, oh ..." Her mind was working frantically as she flipped through her appointment book. "Eleven-fifteen." Her smile
was warm, friendly again when she glanced up. "If you're of the same mind then, I won't give you an argument. Fair
enough?"
"All right." It seemed more gracious, and certainly easier to agree. "I'll see you Monday, then. Have a nice trip."
"I will." Deliberately she waited until Deanna was at the door. "Oh, Dee." She smiled and held up a manila envelope.
"My speech?"
"Right." Deanna crossed the room again, to take the package.
"Try to get it back to me before nine. I need my beauty sleep."
Angela waited until the door closed before she folded her hands on the desk. Her fingers turned bone-white with the
pressure. She took a long moment, staring at the closed door, breathing shallowly. It wouldn't do to rage, she told
herself. No, not this time. For Deanna she had to be cool and calm and concise to review the facts.
She'd offered Deanna a position of power, her own unqualified friendship, her trust. And she preferred to read the
news at noon because she had a contract, a lease on an apartment and a man.



Could she actually be that artless? Angela wondered. That guileless? That stupid?
She relaxed her hands, forced herself to lean back in her chair and even her breathing. Whatever the answer,
Deanna would learn that no one ever turned Angela down.
Calmer now, Angela opened a drawer and took out Marshall's file. The look on her face wasn't hard, nor was it
glittery with anger. Her lips trembled into a pout, a child's expression on being denied. Deanna wasn't going to go with
her to New York, she mused. And she was going to be very, very sorry.

Deanna had taken one step into the outer office when her guilty mood vanished into a flood of surprised pleasure.
"Kate. Kate Lowell."