My Front Page Scandal by Carrie Alexander Page A

receiver while a He called, he called! refrain sang in her ears. She’d really turned into a rule breaker, because she was certain that being thrilled about a day-after call was a violation of the one-night-stand code of conduct. “Katie’s my sister and we—never mind. It’s too humiliating to explain.”
    There was a long, awkward silence. Finally, she broke it by saying, too formally, “Why are you calling?” She winced.
    “Because you didn’t call me,” David said. “I waited an entire day.”
    “Uhh. I thought—I thought that we were, you know, done with each other.” Oh, that was smooth.
    She heard him exhale. “Maybe you are. I’m not.”
    Don’t get too excited. “But aren’t you leaving town?”
    “Not quite yet. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
    Okay, a little excited. But don’t sound too eager. “That would be nice, very nice, in fact.” She paused.
    “Don’t say but.”
    “I have to work late. Changing out the second window. I’m sorry.” She took a breath. “What about another time?”
    “I have a thing tomorrow.”
    “A thing?” she echoed. A date with another woman. Probably one who was actually a rebel instead of just dressing the part.
    “A meeting.”
    She touched the sharp tips of her colored pencils. “Something important?”
    “You might say so, yeah. And I don’t know if I’ll be around after that.”
    Tonight or nothing, then. Brooke had never been the type to drop her plans when a man crooked his finger, and with anyone else, she wouldn’t even have hesitated, but declining David’s invitation was quite the test of her will.
    “I really can’t.” She was alone in her office, yet the entire Martinis and Bikinis club seemed to be chorusing in her head: Are you nuts?
    “C’mon, Brooke, you know you want to say yes,” he breathed in the lilting accent she found so sexy. She was sure he’d used it on purpose. “Besides, you owe me one to make up for cutting out on me last night.”
    “I can explain that.” No, she couldn’t. “I’d say yes, David. Really. But I don’t have a choice. The window must be finished tonight. I already put it off once.”
    Put it off for a one-night stand. She couldn’t do it again, even if the prospect of a two-night stand was extremely enticing.
    “I salute your sense of responsibility.”
    There was only time to wonder why his tone was ironic, then remember the circumstances of his departure from Boston before he said, “See you later.” The phone went dead in her hand.
    See you later? She snapped the cell shut and yanked the door open, “Margaret?”
    Meg blinked behind her Clark Kent glasses. Brooke only used her assistant’s full name when circumstances were dire, such as the time a fifteen-foot Christmas tree took out a cosmetics counter five minutes before the doors opened for the post-Thanksgiving sale. “Yes?”
    “Would you say I’m overly conscientious?”
    “Of course you are.” Relieved, Meg added a crystal star to the garland. “You have to ask?”
    “I thought my standards might be slipping.”
    “Oh, no. You’re as scrupulous as ever, boss.”
    For maybe the first time ever, Brooke wasn’t certain she found that to be a compliment.
    A CRACK OF LIGHT showed through the heavy drape covering one of the windows that flanked Worthington’s entrance. David sidled over and put his eye to the glass.
    Brooke was up on a stepladder, hanging a curtain of shimmering streamers.
    Leaves, pine cones, beads and jewels, and up near the top, sparkling snowflakes.
    She was draped in the stuff like a forest nymph who’d gotten carried away cavorting with Pan.
    His gaze lingered over her butt in her snug jeans. She stretched, bending at the waist over the top of the ladder, pulling the tail of her shirt out of her waistband so that if he angled his head just so he could catch a glimpse of her flat stomach. The snowflakes danced around her head. The tip of her tongue curled across her upper lip as