My Front Page Scandal by Carrie Alexander

Joey!”
    “That was Meg. We’re finishing work on my second display window. We have to change it tonight, then get into the serious prep for our Christmas windows. I know it’s not as important as suing the socks off an evil corporation, but I really am busy.”
    “That was prickly,” Joey said. “Are you already nervous about the dare?”
    Brooke turned away and cupped her hand over her mouth. “This has nothing to do with the dare.”
    “How come you’re whispering?”
    She ducked under the beak of an oversized papiermâché swan from the Boston Ballet tribute and advanced into the depths of the storage and work rooms. “Meg doesn’t know about my membership in Martinis and Bikinis.”
    “Well, jeez, why not? The club’s not shameful, Brookie. It’s for fun.”
    Brooke went into her office and closed the door. “I didn’t say it’s shameful.”
    Was embarrassing the same thing? “I’m a private person, that’s all. I don’t want the entire Worthington staff knowing about my personal life.”
    “Hmm.”
    Brooke heard the tap-tap-tap of her sister’s pen against the desk. She waited.
    Had Lindsay also spilled the beans about Brooke’s encounter with David Carerra? Impossible. If she had, that would have been topic one, not some measly dare-to-be.
    The length of her sister’s silence had become suspicious. Joey was too much of a go-getter to waste thirty seconds of phone time in the middle of the day—unless skullduggery was afoot.
    Brooke inhaled. “Gawd, Joey. Don’t you dare cook something up with Katie.”
    “Who, me?” Joey released a full-bodied chuckle. “You know that Lindsay handles the dares.”
    “Then keep clear of Lindsay,” Brooke threatened. She pushed aside the rolled drawings for the holiday windows and sat on the edge of her desk. “I’ll back out if I smell a setup.”
    “Ah, now, that would be shameful,” Joey rebuked. “Our daddy didn’t raise cowards.”
    There went her sinking feeling again. “No, but Aunt Josephine won’t stand by and watch the family name be sullied, either. You know how she goes on about the history and honor of the Winfields.”
    “Pfft.” Joey wasn’t intimidated by anyone, not even her stern namesake. “I’ll bet Aunt Jo played a few games of Truth or Dare in her day, before she turned into such a stick. Besides, there won’t be any sullying.”
    “There will be if you guys make me run around Copley Square at noon in a bikini and heels.”
    Joey snorted. “I promise, nothing so juvenile. Your dare will suit you. They always do. I’m not sure how Lindsay manages that since they’re supposed to be selected at random.”
    “Hah. As long as the dare doesn’t birthday suit me.” Brooke bit her lip. “Do you remember Camp Okanawaka?” One day, the mean girls of Cabin Five had snatched her coming from the outdoor showers and set her adrift in a canoe sans paddle and towel. While she had huddled in the bottom of the boat and the Bunk Three boys ran for binoculars, Joey swam to the rescue. Staggering ashore in a soaking-wet “I Was Skunked at Camp Okanawaka” T-shirt, Brooke had vowed never to be naked in public again. A vow she’d managed to keep with some contortionist maneuvers in her gym class showers.
    Joey scoffed. “That was eighteen years ago.”
    “I was twelve, with mosquito-bite breasts. It was very traumatic. Do not tell Lindsay.”
    “But this would be the perfect opportunity to—”
    “Promise, Joey.”
    “Awwwright. I promise.”
    Joey had barely said goodbye when the cell phone shrilled again. Brooke didn’t check the caller ID before answering; she knew who’d call next. “The same goes for you, Katie. I refuse to do nudity. Zero. Zilch. Zippy-kiaye.”
    “Uh, is this Brooke Winfield?” a man asked.
    “Yes.” She cringed. “Sorry about that.”
    “Let me guess. You’re an artist’s model in your spare time.”
    Brooke closed her eyes. David.
    “A film star?”
    “Right.” Brooke smiled into the