Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger

by Kimberly Lang

“No need. This is Megan Lowe. My ex-wife.”

  Manny scowled at Megan. “You didn’t mention that.”

  She rolled her eyes in response. “Could you excuse us for a minute? I need to talk to Devin. Privately,” she forced out between gritted teeth.

  Manny looked at him for confirmation, obviously still ready to get security to remove a half-crazy woman. It wouldn’t be the first time. Devin nodded. “It’s fine, Manny. Give us a minute. I’m sure Megan doesn’t actually plan to attack me.”

  “Wanna bet?” she snapped.

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of fifty people, would you?” he warned. Megan was fired up about something, but he didn’t want this to make the papers.

  She looked around, then blew out her breath in a long sigh. The most fake smile he’d ever seen crept over her face as she turned to Manny again. “Of course not. I just need a few minutes of Devin’s time.” The sugary sarcasm dripping off her words didn’t bode well for whatever she needed those few minutes for.

  Manny backed off a few steps, and Devin reached for Megan’s elbow. She jerked away before he could touch her. Lord, she really was mad, but why had she decided to confront him here? Whatever bee was in her bonnet, the middle of a busy bookstore during one of his signings wasn’t the place to discuss it. With a sigh he indicated the stockroom he’d been stashed in earlier before the signing began. “How about in there?”

  Megan hitched her bag up again and squared her shoulders. She walked stiffly, that fake smile fixed on her face until the stockroom door swung shut behind them. Then she turned on him. “How could you, Dev?”

  “How could I what? You’ll need to be more specific.”

  Megan pulled a copy of his book out of her bag and tossed it at him. “This.”

  He caught it reflexively and looked at her. When she didn’t elaborate, he prodded her. “Should I make it out to you, or is it a gift for a friend?”

  “Neither.” She snorted. “I’ve got your autograph already. On my divorce papers.”

  “Then what?” She didn’t answer, but he could see the muscle in her jaw working. “Need some legal advice?”

  She tilted her head, and the end of her ponytail fell to rest on the heaving swell of her breasts above the neckline of her shirt. A faint flush colored the skin there, barely noticeable in the dimness of the stockroom. “Actually, I could use some legal advice. What’s the difference between slander and libel?”

  He pulled his attention from her cleavage. “What?”

  “How about defamation of character? Can I sue you for that?”

  Meggie rarely made sense when she got good and mad, but this seemed to be extreme, even for her. “Why don’t you calm down and tell me—”

  “Don’t you dare patronize me, Devin Kenney. Your radio show was bad enough, but this book…”

  Old habits warred with each other. Placate or fight back? “I don’t think—”

  “And therein lies the problem. Did you never once think that people might be interested in the ex-wife of America’s most popular divorce attorney?” Megan began to pace, her hands moving agitatedly as she spoke. “That people might think that some of the things you mention on the radio or the stories in this book are based on your personal experience? Or that they might come looking for me, wanting dirt or backstory or something?”

  Ah, unwanted notoriety. “You’re all spun up because some tabloid wants you to dish the dirt on me?”

  She crossed her arms on her chest again as she stared at him, eyes snapping. “Not just some tabloid. All the tabloids. All the cable news channels. Half a dozen talk shows and every damn blogger in the universe. Do you not keep up with your own press? Haven’t you seen my name next to yours recently?”

  He didn’t keep up with his own press; he didn’t have time. That’s why he had Manny. And they’d be having a conversation about that later on. After he finished with Megan.

  Her anger made a bit more sense now. Megan was so shy, the media hounds would be too much for her to deal with without major stress. Feeling a twinge of guilt that Megan had been pulled into this media circus at all, he reached for her arm out of habit, simply to calm her. When she stepped back, he remembered he didn’t have the right to touch her anymore. He leaned back against a stack of boxes instead. “The fact we were married once is public record. I can’t change that.” She took a deep breath, and he held up a hand, trying to be diplomatic. “But I am sorry you’re being bothered by the press. It’ll blow over soon.” Something about that phrase made her nostrils flare and the color in her cheeks deepen. “Feel free to milk this any way you want, though.”

  “I don’t want to milk this. I want it to go away. My career may never recover as it is, but if this continues…”

  He tried to follow the change in topic. “Your career?”

  “I realize it was never high on your radar, but surely you remember I wanted one of those, too.”

  Oh, he remembered, all right. She’d moved to Albany and filed for divorce in pursuit of her precious career. The bitter taste of that memory settled on his tongue and made his next words sharper than intended. “I don’t see how a little fame could have any detrimental effect on your career.”

  “I’m a therapist.” He shrugged in question and Megan’s jaw clenched again. “Primarily a marriage therapist,” she managed to grit out.

  He felt his eyebrows go up, and a small chuckle escaped before he could stop it.

  Megan rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes, yes, I’m aware of the irony. As are all the people contacting me about you. But I’m damn good at what I do. And I was building a nice client list and decent reputation. Until now.”

  “And?”

  “Let’s see. The press won’t leave me alone. They call my office and my house at all hours. My email overflows, and one even tried to pose as a new client. I could handle that, but now my clients are being harassed by the press, which is a horrible invasion of their privacy, not to mention embarrassing for them and the clinic I work for. The speculation in the tabloids about our marriage makes me look like some kind of psychotic harpy, which tends to make people think twice about listening to my advice.” She was pacing again, working that head of steam back up. “Oh, and there’s the little issue of being placed on extended leave because all of this interferes with the entire clinic’s ability to do business. So, thank you, Devin, for screwing up my life. Again.”

  That accusation rankled, but he wasn’t going to argue who had screwed up whose life in the first place. He’d win that battle. But that was ancient history. He did feel slightly bad Megan was catching flak—and that he’d been unaware of any of it. Regardless of his reputation, he wasn’t completely heartless. Even when it came to her. “I didn’t know. I’ll try to do some damage control, if you want. Make it clear that we were so long ago that nothing of us is part of the book.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “It’s a start. But I doubt it will help.”

  Old frustration edged its way back in. “Then exactly what do you want me to do?”

  The question hung between them in the dim stockroom, and Megan didn’t have an answer.

  Anger and indignation had brought her this far and now she regretted giving in to either emotion. So much for “positive confrontation.” All those “I” statements—I think, I feel—she was supposed to use in this situation had evaporated under the heat of her emotions. Good God, if Dr. Weiss had heard that outburst… She cringed inwardly. She’d be sent back to Psych 101 to start over again. The outrage drained away, leaving her feeling hollow and foolish.

  It was a familiar feeling. One she didn’t like.

  She just hadn’t been properly mentally prepared to see Devin again. Face-to-face, at least. She’d debated taking this internship simply because Devin was so famous, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the same town. But an internship at the Weiss Clinic was too prestigious to turn down over an ex-husband. Not in a town this size, where she was practically guaranteed to
never run into him.

  Then she’d moved here and his picture was all over town: on the sides of buses, on billboards, in magazines. Devin’s I’m-up-to-something smile was everywhere. It was wreaking havoc on her psyche, but she’d learned how to ignore it—for the most part.

  But all that practice hadn’t prepared her to be in the same room with him. Alone. His long, lean body took up way too much space, and her nerve endings seemed to jump to high alert. Devin appeared to suck up all the available oxygen in the room, leaving her with nothing to breathe except the unique scent of him that she—and something inside her—recognized immediately. Those liquid brown eyes, the way his dark hair curled just slightly behind his ears… Those hands—oddly elegant for a man who oozed testosterone from every pore—brought visuals she didn’t need right now.

  It was terribly unfair to discover that after all these years Devin still had an effect on her—especially when she obviously had no effect on him at all. Her inner eighteen-year-old was stuttering and stammering just being this close to him, and it irritated her to no end.

  And now she’d stormed in here and acted exactly like some kind of crazy ex. And considering how reasonable he was being… She wanted to go hide under a rock for the next five years or so. She might recover her pride and get over the embarrassment by then.

  Devin repeated the question, and the exasperation in his tone drove home how ridiculous she was being.

  I should have listened to Julie.

  “Well, Meggie?”

  You could start by not calling me Meggie. It caused another one of those heartbeat stutters and brought back memories she was doing her damnedest to suppress. But the question did deflate the last bit of the outrage that had sent her storming downtown to confront him. She sighed and dropped her shoulders in defeat. “I don’t know. I guess that’s all you can do. Eventually my fifteen minutes will be up, right?”

  Biting her lip, she reached deep inside for a bit of the professional behavior she’d lost in her tirade. Without the anger and indignation fueling her, she felt foolish. And Dev’s proximity was just too much. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place, so I’ll go now.” A small laugh at the absurdity of the situation escaped her. “I won’t say it was nice seeing you again, but at least I can offer you my congratulations on your success in person.” There. She could end on a less embarrassing and slightly more mature note.

  Dev nodded, but he had the oddest look on his face—rather as if he was concerned she wasn’t all there mentally. She couldn’t really blame him for that. “Bye, Dev. And good luck.” She held out her hand.

  Seeming surprised and not bothering to hide it, Devin took her offered hand. Damn it. His touch caused her fingers to tingle, and it took all she had not to jerk her hand away.

  “You, too, Meggie.”

  Pulling herself together by force of will, she released his hand and refused to look back as she walked away. She pushed the door with a little too much force, causing it to swing wide. That annoying agent jumped back to avoid being hit.

  “Eavesdropping? Really? Lovely.”

  Manny had the sense to look a little abashed at being caught, but then he shrugged and grinned. It was a fake, practiced grin, and she wasn’t the least bit fooled by it. Or by the false friendliness that followed. “You know, you really shouldn’t take any of this personally. It’s just showbiz.”

  She pretended to think about that statement. “Showbiz. Yeah. Well, for those of us who didn’t sign up for it, it sucks.”

  Much like her life at the moment.

  CHAPTER TWO

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS under the covers and more ice cream than any adult should ever eat hadn’t solved anything. Megan didn’t feel better about any of it. And now her stomach hurt, as well.

  She was tired of hiding in her apartment, mainly because seeing Devin had awakened every old repressed memory, causing her to relive their entire history. She was a complete mess now, thanks to him.

  When the phone rang, again, she flipped back the quilt to check the number. No name. Damn. Not answering wasn’t an option, since it could be a client calling. They all had her cell-phone number in case of an emergency. She mentally crossed her fingers, then immediately felt bad for hoping one of her clients was having an emergency.

  “Dr. Lowe?”

  “Speaking.”

  “My name is Kate Wilson. I’m a producer—”

  She sighed. “No comment. Goodbye.” The press was driving her crazy.

  “Wait! Don’t hang up, please.” Something in the woman’s voice caused her to pause. “I’m Devin Kenney’s producer for Cover Your Assets.”

  That’s why the voice sounded vaguely familiar. She’d heard it on the radio the once or twice she’d tuned in to Devin’s show—strictly for research purposes, of course. “And I still have no comment.”

  It wasn’t for lack of trying, though. She’d spent hours trying to come up with the perfect comment. One that would be pithy and quotable yet shut down any further questions. Sadly, such a comment did not exist.

  “I understand your reluctance, but please hear me out. I’m not looking for a quote or a story.” The woman laughed. “That’s not my job.”

  Megan focused on the water stain on the ceiling and prayed for patience. “Ms. Wilson, I’m extremely busy today, so—”

  “So I’ll get to the point. I understand you’re getting a lot of unwelcome attention from the media right now.”

  That was an understatement.

  “I don’t know how much you’ve dealt with the media in the past, but I do know one way to get this circus under control.”

  That would be too much to ask, especially since this woman worked for the media—and Devin. Therefore her offer to help sounded suspicious at best. “And that would be…?”

  “You beat them to it. Put yourself out there in a way you can control.”

  “Ms. Wilson—”

  “Call me Kate.”

  “Kate, I’m really not interested in doing interviews or anything of that nature.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I think you should come on Devin’s show.”

  What part of “no interviews” does this Kate not understand? “I’m sorry, what?”

  Excitement oozed out of the woman’s words. “You could tell your side with Devin right there to corroborate the truth of the stories. You could take questions, even, and end the speculation. If you show that you and Devin aren’t on opposite sides—and that you two think it’s a nonissue—that issue will no longer be interesting. Problem solved.”

  That sounded way too good to be true. Too easy. “What makes you think anyone would—”

  “Dr. Lowe, you have to know the fact you’re a marriage counselor and Devin is a divorce attorney is the stuff blogs eat up. It just feeds on itself, and the more that’s not said about it just gives rise to more speculation.”

  “I am aware of that.” Blindingly aware, she thought as her eye began to twitch again.

  Kate seemed to miss the sarcasm. “Then come on the show tomorrow night. You and Devin can address this issue head-on. Get the truth out there and end everyone’s curiosity.”

  It couldn’t be that easy. Plus… “I’ve never done anything on the radio before.”

  “Don’t worry about that. You have a great voice, and Devin and I can walk you through the specifics.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to Devin first.” Oh, the thought made her stomach hurt again.

  “It’ll be great for Devin’s ratings, too. I think a lot of folks will tune in to hear you two sort things out. And think, you could become the most popular marriage counselor in Chicago. It would probably increase your patient list.”

  Something didn’t quite feel right. “Why didn’t Devin call me himself with this grand idea?”

  “He’s in Atlanta today for a book signing and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

  It was tempting. Very tempting. Except for the talking-to-Devin part
. And the being-near-Devin part. That hadn’t gone so well yesterday. She cringed again.

  Kate did have a point about taking control instead of being pushed along. And wasn’t she always telling her clients to act instead of react?

  But the radio? Devin had a coast-to-coast audience. She wasn’t the same wallflower she used to be, but still… Who wouldn’t be nervous at the idea of being heard by that many people? The possibilities for humiliation were huge.

  But if it went the way Kate seemed to think it would… Maybe she could shut this down before it got any bigger and get back to work. Put Devin out of her life once and for all.

  “Dr. Lowe? If this is going to work, we need to jump on it now. Before it gets any bigger.”

  Megan took a deep breath. “Then I guess I’ll come on the show.”

  “Wonderful! You’ll need to be here by six so I can brief you. Do I need to send a car for you…?”

  Kate rattled off questions and instructions, but Megan was questioning her sanity and barely heard them over the sound of her head gently banging against the headboard.

  Devin made the mistake of heeding Megan’s advice about reading his own press just as his flight began its descent into O’Hare. He put his seat and tray table in the upright position, stowed his electronics and changed to printed media to occupy the last few minutes of the flight.

  There, on the front of the entertainment section, in type large enough to be read from Coach, was a promo for tonight’s show.

  And Megan’s name was right next to his.

  What the hell?

  According to this, tonight’s very special guest would be his ex-wife, Dr. Megan Lowe. His surprise at Megan’s doctor title was quickly swamped by the news that she was coming on his show.

  Whose bright idea was that?

  He reached for his phone, only to remember he couldn’t use it. Waving over the flight attendant, he asked, “How long until we land?”

  “Hard to say, Mr. Kenney. There’s a bit of a line and we’re going to have to circle for a while. I’ll let you know when we get an updated ETA, though.”