Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger (4 page)

“That's all I ask. Good luck, Pete, to both you
and
your wife. I hope you can figure out what's best for you both in the long term.”

Kate took the opportunity to break in. “And on that note, we need to take a short break for your local news update and a message from our sponsors.” A second later she indicated they were clear, and Kate began to gush. “You two are fabulous together! The chemistry is just amazing and the audience is eating it up. Have you seen the call queue? The mail piling up in the show's in-box? You guys are a hit! I knew you would be!” Kate wiggled in her chair, something he recognized as her “ratings dance.” “Oh, and you have three minutes.”

He took off his headphones and Megan did the same, a confused look on her face. “Three minutes of what?”

“A break.” He moved the mics out of the way. “What the hell was that about?”

She'd started reaching for her water when he mentioned
a break, but his angry question had her responding in an equally snide tone. “What was what about?”

“Counseling my callers?”

“Sorry, but that's my job.” Megan didn't sound the least bit sorry, and that tweaked his ire a little more.

“Not on my show, it's not. My callers want advice about breaking up, not psychobabble about making up.”

“There was absolutely no psychobabble at all in anything I said to that caller. Just the truth. Maybe divorce is the best thing for that guy and his wife, but I'm not going to sit here and let you dish out all that bitterness on someone who might be able to be happy if you didn't egg him on and make him believe a divorce is the best idea ever.”

“Sometimes it is. You said so yourself. And you would know, of course.”

Megan's eye began to twitch. “You're not wrong about that. Trust me when I say that divorcing
you
was certainly the best idea
I
ever had.”

 

I really do need some anger-management classes.
Megan winced inwardly at the nasty remark that hung in the air between them.

Being around Devin—and the tension that proximity caused—was doing bad things to her brain and releasing the brake on her tongue. What had she expected? Things to be different?

Doing the same thing and expecting different results was the classic definition of insanity.
Doctor, heal thyself.

But the words were out there now, and she couldn't see a graceful retreat from them. Too much of their past had been stirred up for that.

Dev's eyes narrowed, telling her she'd scored a direct hit with that outburst. “And yet you claim to be a marriage advocate. The hypocrisy doesn't bother you?”

Oh, now he'd crossed a line. “Hypocrisy? You're getting on your soapbox about hypocrisy? That's a laugh. You're the biggest hypocrite on the planet. And, again, I'm in a position to know
that
for a fact. Too bad it's not grounds for divorce in Illinois. I'd have gotten more alimony.”

Kate's voice came over a small speaker. “Um, guys? I hate to interrupt—this looks, um, fascinating—but you've got one minute.”

A muscle in Dev's jaw twitched. Oh, he was really itching for a fight now. But then, so was she. Going back on the air with him now might be a big mistake, considering how loose her tongue was today. But walking out now? In the middle of the show? That would only undo every bit of damage control she'd managed to accomplish tonight. There was no good to be found anywhere in this situation now. She was damned if she did, damned if she didn't.

Dev glared at her as he scooted his chair to the table and grabbed his headphones. “We'll finish this conversation later.” He motioned her to silence as the red light came back on and Kate brought them back from commercial.

Megan had to give him credit—no one in Listener Land would know he was shooting daggers at her as she moved her chair and positioned her microphone. His voice carried none of the heat he'd just blasted her with as he started back into his show.

That lack sent warning shivers up her spine.

Kate motioned to her to put her headphones on. With a sigh, she did.

“Hi, caller, you're on the air.”

“Hi, Devin. This is Terri from Albuquerque. I'm a long-time listener, but a first-time caller. And I just have to ask you and Dr. Megan something.”

“Go ahead, Terri. Megan and I are open books tonight.”
Dev raised an eyebrow at her in challenge. “No holds barred.”

Megan shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“What's the story with you two? You haven't really told us what the problem was.”

Devin gave her a look that made her regret she'd let Kate talk her into this in the first place.

She was definitely moving to Canada.

M
EGAN KEPT UP A GOOD GAME
for the listeners for the remainder of the show, but Devin could tell something was going on. She avoided eye contact unless absolutely necessary and when she did meet his eyes, she couldn't hold it for long. The technology in the booth seemed to fascinate her, but he could tell that interest was feigned. During the breaks she asked questions about how everything worked and even chatted with Kate some, but after that first heated exchange, all the fire seemed to drain out of her.

“Great show, guys.” Kate cut the feed from the studio, ending their broadcast and turning it over to
Lola's Late Night Love Show
from a station in New York. “The mucky-mucks at corporate are going to be beyond thrilled. I got several calls from morning shows there toward the end.”

Megan had been busily rooting in her bag, but her head jerked up sharply at Kate's words. “What do you mean, morning shows?”

“I mean you two were a hit and everyone is dying to know more. I'm going to be up all night cutting and redubbing to get the clips ready.” Kate sighed dramatically, but the glee in her words couldn't be easily masked.

Megan, however, paled visibly at Kate's words. “This was supposed to be the end of it. ‘Give them what they want so they'll go away,' remember?”

He laughed, causing Megan to finally meet his eyes directly. The anger and accusation there… “What gave you the idea the media would go away?”

“
She
did.” Megan pointed at Kate, who shrugged and made a show of killing the mics and speakers, effectively bailing from the conversation by virtue of soundproof rooms.

He had no doubt Kate had led Megan to believe exactly that. “She lied.”

Megan shot a killing look through the window at Kate, who was busy reviewing the tape and didn't see it. Then Megan rounded on him. “And
you
did, too.”

“I never said anything like that.”

“Yes, you did. ‘We'll take calls for a while, and then it will be over.' Your words, in the lounge, not two and a half hours ago.”

He thought back for a moment. “I was referring to the
show.
”

“Oh, my God.” Megan began to pace, her hands tugging at her hair, a sign of frustration he recognized from days past. “The morning shows…this is just going to make things
worse.
”

Okay, this was an overreaction, even from Megan. “Media attention doesn't go away overnight, you know. This will take the nasty edge off, though, until it does.”

Megan dropped into her chair with a groan and buried her face in her hands.

“That could happen sooner than you think, especially if something more interesting breaks.”

“And what's more interesting than Devin Kenney?” she muttered into her hands. It wasn't a real question, so he didn't bother to respond. It wasn't his fault the book and the show were so popular, but Megan was acting as if he'd done all this to spite her somehow. Hard on that thought,
Megan lifted her head, spun the chair and faced him. “I hate you, Devin. I really, really do.”

Actually hearing the words cut deeper than expected. “I'm supposed to be surprised? I figured that out a long time ago, Meggie. It's hardly news.”

Megan's attitude changed. Her shoulders dropped, and while she was still obviously angry, somehow not all of it was directed at him anymore. “It's news to me. I didn't realize I was capable of that emotion until now.”

“Really? If you walk out on people you
don't
hate, I'm curious to see what you do to the people you do.”

Megan's jaw tightened. “I didn't just walk out on you. I
had
to leave because you were so caught up in yourself you forgot there was anyone else deserving of a thought from you.”

“You're implying I somehow forgot we were married? That I mistook you for a roommate?”

“Pretty much.” The sarcasm from Megan was new. Unexpected. It seemed graduate school had taught her a lot more than how to come out of her shell. It had given her teeth, as well.

“That's insane, Meggie.”

“First of all, please do not call me Meggie,” she snapped.

The heat behind what seemed like a simple statement caught him off guard.

She pushed to her feet to face him. “Secondly, I think I'm a bit more qualified to decide what's insane and what's not. And since I was there, since
I
was the one being treated like nothing more than a roommate, I know what I'm talking about.”

Memories crashed in—vivid visuals of Megan's thighs straddling his hips, that long blond hair falling around them both like a curtain, her eyes closed and mouth open
slightly in pleasure as she moved against him. A familiar, if almost forgotten, heat built under his skin. He fought to tamp it down. “I'm suddenly rather intrigued by your definition of
roommate.
Do you sleep with all your roommates, Megan?”

She gasped and her cheeks turned pink as she obviously got a similar visual. Then she swallowed hard and bit her bottom lip. Her arms crossed over her chest, pulling her thin cardigan closed, but not quickly enough to hide the sight of rigid nipples pressing against the cotton tank. The small success he'd had getting himself under control faltered.

“There's no need to be crude, Devin.”

“It's a fair question. Personally, I'm not in the habit of having sex with my roommates, so I'm curious to see where you got
wife
and
roommate
confused.”

Her chin went up. “A wife is normally afforded greater respect than a roommate,” she lectured, ice dripping off her words. “Especially when it comes to big, important issues like where you're going to live, or what you're going to do with your future—your
joint
future. Your roommate can't expect you to take their plans into consideration when making yours. Your wife, however, should get a say. Since that seemed to be shocking news to you, I can only assume
you
were the one with vocabulary problems.”

“And
I
think a wife would be happy her husband had been offered such a plum job after so many years of eating Ramen noodles and scrimping to pay the rent. I wasn't asking you to move to Cambodia, for God's sake. It's not like you couldn't have gone to school here in Chicago. And, hey, look where you ended up anyway.”

“And you're still missing the point, Dev. I moved for you so you could go to law school—losing credits and pushing my graduation back—because you promised you'd do the
same for me. But when the time came, I was supposed to walk away from
my
plans and dreams in favor of yours.”

“And the obvious solution to a disagreement about jobs is, of course, divorce. I'm surprised you're allowed to counsel couples at all considering how quickly you found a divorce lawyer.” The bitterness was back, surprising him with its intensity, but he had no reason to hide it now.

“Oh, grow up, Devin.” Megan was good and mad now, and it was a completely different attitude and posture than he remembered. The pissy-pixie was gone, as was the big teary-eyed guilt-tripping he remembered. Somewhere along the line she'd found a steel backbone that had her in his face. “It was never just about your job or my school or anything else. It was the fact you were too freaking selfish to realize my plans should have any relevance in the discussion. I couldn't stay married to someone who could so blithely disregard me and my dreams….”

“I'm the selfish one? Listen to yourself—everything coming out of your mouth is ‘me, me, me.' That much hasn't changed about you. It's still all about you. Hell, this whole situation is practically a rerun. You don't like something, so you come to me and expect me to fix it.”

“Son of a—” Megan bit the words off and took a deep breath. “Yes, I freely admit I was young and immature when we got married, and I probably did rely on you way too much. But I had to grow up pretty damn fast after I moved out.”

“You moved out because you wanted to go to Albany and I wanted to go to Chicago. And instead of looking for a solution, you filed for divorce.”

“Had you come to me and
asked
me to move to Chicago, I'd have done it in a heartbeat because I lov—” She caught herself and cleared her throat. “I would've moved to Chicago for you. Rearranged my life
again.
But you didn't
ask. You just expected, and you went all sexist caveman when I didn't just roll over and do it.”

“I thought your major was psychology, not revisionist history. How convenient for you.”

Megan's eyes widened, and the flush coloring her cheeks and neck darkened. “Excuse me?”

“You've convinced yourself it was all my fault. I was the big fat jerk and you were the poor innocent victim.”

Her jaw dropped and she quickly snapped it shut. “Stop. Just stop.” The words barely escaped the hardened line of her lips. “I swear, Dev…”

Megan seemed to catch herself at that moment. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she did it again. When she opened her eyes and spoke, she seemed calmer. “Good Lord, I can't believe we're rehashing this. It's not beneficial to either of us. And it's certainly not healthy. We're way off topic.” The angry crease in her forehead smoothed out and she sat.

The absurdity of the situation finally filtered through the adrenaline Megan caused to rush through his brain and body. “Agreed.” They'd moved from spinning the media to spinning their wheels about the past. “If the APA or the Bar Association had witnessed that, they'd pull both our licenses.”

Megan shook her head. “And the sad thing is that I know better.” She leaned back in the chair and blew out her breath noisily. “There's now about four chapters of my dissertation I may want to revise before I publish.”

“Megan,” he began.

“Look, Dev—” she said at the same time. She interrupted herself and yielded the floor. “Sorry, go ahead.”

“Ladies first.”

She took another of those deep breaths. “You know, I do appreciate what you tried to do tonight. It's my fault I
didn't quite understand what would happen. In retrospect, if I'd thought it all the way through, I'd have realized this wasn't quite the magic bullet I hoped it would be. But that's not your fault. Hopefully, it will help a little, maybe make it die down a little faster.” She reached for her bag and settled the strap on her shoulder. “But now I'm going to go home and pack for Canada.”

“That's a good idea. A vacation would do you some good. Maybe this will all be over when you get back.” He doubted it, but Megan would be better off believing that. She could enjoy her vacation and be better prepared to face whatever was still being churned around in the press when she did get back.

Megan snorted and rubbed her hands over her face. She stood, then turned back to him, a question on her face. “I'm sorry. It's your turn now. What were you going to say?”

He thought for a moment. Megan seemed to be calming down, and spinning her up again wouldn't help anything. Neither would continuing their delightful trip down memory lane. The past was past, and as an adult, he should let it go and move on.

He'd show her who'd grown up and who hadn't. He would be the mature one if it killed him in the process.

“Do you need a ride home?”

 

Megan finally understood what drove some of her clients to drink. She'd always told them it was an excuse or a crutch, but at this moment she knew why so many people sought solace and calm in a bottle. She desperately needed a drink to calm her nerves, soothe her brain and numb a little of the unbelievably powerful and conflicting emotions tumbling through her.

But Devin… After everything that had happened tonight—including the amazingly painful opening of old
scars—he seemed able to brush it all aside. Was Devin really that unfeeling now? Or did that coldness extend only to her? The idea bothered her a little at the same time she envied that ability. He'd gone from looking at her as if he'd gladly strangle her to calmly offering her a ride home without missing a beat.

“No, thank you. Kate sent a car….” She trailed off when Devin shook his head.

“Kate may have sent a car for you, but I promise she didn't arrange for one to take you home.”

Every friendly feeling she'd had toward Kate had died off quite a while ago, and Megan was rapidly moving toward wanting to rip out Kate's beautiful shampoo-ad-quality hair now. She shot a dirty look through the window into the producer's booth, but Kate was busy with her computer. “I'll get the guard at the front desk to call me a cab, then.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I drove myself in tonight, and I can run you home.”

She wasn't about to admit to Devin that she didn't want a ride from him. She didn't want to put herself in another, even smaller enclosed space with him tonight. Although the tension built from their arguing and their past was making her desperately crave a glass of wine, she could handle that. She would be fine once she had a little time and distance to process the violent whirlpool of emotions in her stomach.

No, she didn't want to get into a car with Devin, because the one thing she couldn't process or even address right now—especially while he was in the same room with her—was the disturbing reaction of her body. Getting into the close confines of a car? Where it was dark and intimate? She had enough memories crashing in on her at the moment to deal with, and his flat-out remark about sex had made
it impossible to ignore them. It was difficult enough to keep her mind away from their history, but to know that Dev was fully capable of—and probably
was
at that very second—picturing her naked and…and… She nearly lost it completely at that point.