Private Scandals Read Online Free PDF Page B

a half laugh, Deanna shook her head. “I’d miss that little red light. See, here’s the thing.” She plopped down on the arm of the couch. Her eyes were glowing again, darkened to smoke with suppressed excitement. “I don’t want to be Angela’s head researcher. I’m not even sure I want New York anymore. I think I want my own show. To be syndicated in a hundred and twenty markets. I want a twenty-percent share. I want to be on the cover of TV Guide.”
    Fran grinned. “So, what’s stopping you?”
    “Nothing.” More confident now that she’d said it aloud, Deanna shifted, resting her bare feet on the cushion of the sofa. “Maybe that’s Year Seven or Eight, I haven’t figured it out yet. But I want it, and I can do it. But—” She blewout a breath. “It means covering tears and torment until I’ve earned my stripes.”
    “The Deanna Reynolds’s Extended Career Plan.”
    “Exactly.” She was glad Fran understood.
    “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
    “Sweet pea, I think that anyone with your meticulous mind, your camera presence and your polite yet strong ambition will get exactly what she wants.” Fran reached into the bowl of sugared almonds on the coffee table, popped three in her mouth. “Just don’t forget the little people when you do.”
    “What was your name again?”
    Fran threw a pillow at her. “Okay, now that we have your life settled, I’d like to announce an addition to the Fran Myers’s My Life Is Never What I Thought It Would Be Saga.”
    “You got a promotion?”
    “Nope.”
    “Richard got one?”
    “No, though a junior partnership at Dowell, Dowell and Fritz may be in the offing.” She drew a deep breath. Her redhead’s complexion flushed like a blooming rose. “I’m pregnant.”
    “What?” Deanna blinked. “Pregnant? Really?” Laughing, she slid down on the couch to grasp Fran’s hands. “A baby? This is wonderful. This is incredible.” Deanna threw her arms around Fran to squeeze, then pulled back sharply to study her friend’s face. “Isn’t it?”
    “You bet it is. We weren’t planning on it for another year or two, but hell, it takes nine months, right?”
    “Last I heard. You’re happy. I can see it. I just can’t believe—” She stopped, jerked back again. “Jesus, Fran. You’ve been here nearly an hour, and you’re just getting around to telling me. Talk about burying the lead.”
    Feeling smug, Fran patted her flat belly. “I wanted everything else out of the way so you could concentrate on me. Us.”
    “No problem there. Are you sick in the mornings or anything?”
    “Me?” Fran quirked a brow. “With my cast-iron stomach?”
    “Right. What did Richard say?”
    “Before or after he stopped dancing on the ceiling?”
    Deanna laughed again, then sprang up to do a quick spin of her own. A baby, she thought. She had to plan a shower, shop for stuffed animals, buy savings bonds. “We have to celebrate.”
    “What did we do in college when we had something to celebrate?”
    “Chinese and cheap white wine,” Deanna said with a grin. “Perfect, with the adjustment of Grade A milk.”
    Fran winced, then shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it. I do have a favor to ask.”
    “Name it.”
    “Work on that career plan, Dee. I think I’d like my kid to have a star for a godmommy.”
     
    When the phone rang at six A . M ., Deanna pulled herself out of sleep and into a hangover. Clutching her head with one hand, she fumbled for the receiver with the other.
    “Reynolds.”
    “Deanna, darling, I’m so sorry to wake you.”
    “Angela?”
    “Who else would be rude enough to call you at this hour?” Angela’s light laugh came through the phone as Deanna blearily looked at the clock. “I have an enormous favor to ask. We’re taping today, and Lew’s down with a virus.”
    “I’m sorry.” Valiantly, Deanna cleared her throat and managed to sit up.
    “These things happen. It’s just that we’re dealing with a sensitive