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

jacket. "Something hot?"
"I'm fine."
"Well then, let's sit down." She took his hand again, steered him toward the love seat. "It's awfully good to see you
again."
"It's good to see you, too." Puzzled, he watched her settle back, her skirt riding up on her thigh as she crossed her
legs.
"You know how pleased I am with the help you've given me on the show, but I asked you here today to discuss
something more personal."
"Oh?"
"You've been seeing a lot of Deanna." He relaxed and struggled to keep his eyes from roaming down from her face.
"Yes, I have. In fact, I've been meaning to call you and thank you for indirectly bringing us together."
"I'm very fond of her. As I'm sure you are," she added, laying a hand lightly on his thigh. "All that energy, that
youthful enthusiasm. A beautiful girl."
"Yes, she is."
"And so sweet. Wholesome, really." Angela's fingers stroked lightly along his leg. "Not your usual type."
"I don't know what you mean."
"You're a man who's attracted to experience, to a certain sophistication. Except in one illuminating case."
He stiffened, drew back. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." Her voice remained pleasant, easy. But her eyes had sharpened like two blue blades. "You see, I
know all about you, Marshall. I know about your foolish slip with one Annie Gilby, age sixteen. And all about your
previous, I should say pre-Deanna, arrangement with a certain woman who lives on Lake Shore. In fact, I made it
my business to know everything there is to know about you."
"You've had me followed?" He struggled for outrage, but panic had already outdistanced everything else. She could
ruin him, with one careless announcement on her show. "What right do you have to pry into my personal life?"
"None at all. That's what makes it so exciting. And it is exciting." She toyed with the top button of her jacket. When
his eyes flicked down to the movement, she glanced at the antique clock behind him. Eleven-ten, she thought,
coolheaded, cold-blooded. Perfect.
"If you think you can use some sort of blackmail to ruin my relationship with Deanna, it isn't going to happen." His
palms were wet, from fear, and from a terrible arousal. He would resist it. He had to resist it. "She's not a child.
She'll understand."
"She may, or she may not. But I do." With her eyes on his, Angela flicked open the first button on her jacket. "I
understand. I sent my secretary away, Marshall." Her voice lowered, thickened. "So I could be alone with you. Why
do you think I went to all the trouble to find out about you?" She released the second button, toyed with the third and
last.
He wasn't sure he could speak. When he forced the words out, they were like grains of sand in his throat. "What
kind of game is this, Angela?"
"Any kind you want." She shot forward, quick as a snake, and caught his bottom lip between her teeth. "I want you,"
she whispered. "I've wanted you for a long time." Straddling him, she pressed his face against the breasts that
strained against the hint of black lace. "You want me, don't you?" She felt his mouth open, grope blindly for flesh.
There was a flash, razor-edged and hot, that was power. She'd won. "Don't you?" she demanded, gripping his head
in both hands.
"Yes." He was already dragging her skirt up to her waist.

Deanna waited impatiently for the elevator to climb to sixteen. She really didn't have time to keep the
appointment with Angela. But she was obligated by that invincible combination of manners and affection. She
glanced at her watch again as people shuffled on and off on seven.
Angela was going to be upset, she mused. And there was no preventing it. Deanna hoped the dozen roses she'd
brought along would soften the refusal.
She owed Angela much more than a few flowers, she thought. So many people didn't see what a generous and
giving person Angela Perkins was, or how vulnerable. All they saw was the power, the ambition, the need for