"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, creating 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.