He didn’t know who to call first when they landed— Kate, Manny or Megan. Scratch Megan, since he didn’t have her number. This stunt reeked of Manny’s machinations, but Kate could’ve had a hand in it, as well. They were probably in collusion to drive him insane. Ratings and money: the two things Kate and Manny could be guaranteed to jump on any possibility of.
He shifted in his seat as the pilot announced the delay to the rest of the passengers.
How had they talked Megan into this idea? She had a fear of public speaking. She hated being the center of attention. Their small, family-only wedding hadn’t been all about finances—Megan just couldn’t face the idea of being the focus of that many people. She was an introvert, uncomfortable outside her zone.
That protective instinct that had appeared out of nowhere yesterday swooped back in again. The feeling was both familiar and odd at the same time. He’d been trapped by that feeling the very first time she’d turned those huge baby-blue eyes on him, awakening some caveman instinct to protect and shelter her from the big, bad world.
But it should be long gone by now, beaten down by the way she’d walked out on him, buried by her selfishness and immaturity….
There was the feeling he was used to getting on those rare occasions Megan crossed his mind. That older instinct had just been shaken loose by the surprise at seeing her the other day. That twinge of guilt he’d felt at the bookstore had been easily tamped down, even as several tenacious reporters had questioned him about their marriage in interviews yesterday. He’d evaded the questions as much as possible.
Megan wasn’t a part of his life. She needed to go back to whoever she was and whatever she did when not crashing his book signing. She certainly wasn’t relevant to his career.
And he sure as hell didn’t want her on his show.
No man should have to deal with his ex-wife on a national platform. What drugs were Manny and Kate on to even consider it?
He should fire both of them.
And he just might, if this plane ever hit the tarmac and he could use his phone.
The high-rise building that housed Broad Horizons Broadcasting looked like any other office building on the Chicago skyline. Megan wasn’t sure what she’d expected when the shiny black town car had pulled up at her door earlier to ferry her downtown, but she didn’t feel as if she’d been brought to a radio station. It looked rather more like an insurance company or something. She thanked her driver as he held her door, feeling a bit like a celebrity herself from his deferential treatment.
As she walked into the building and read the company listings on the wall, she stifled a laugh when she saw the building was, indeed, an insurance company. And an investment firm, a law firm and several other things on different floors. She signed in at the front desk, and the elderly security guard’s eyebrows went up when he read her name and destination.
“You’re not what I was expecting, Dr. Lowe.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “You were expecting me?”
“Ms. Wilson told me to send you straight up to fifteen when you arrived.”
Ms. Wilson. Kate. Not Devin. She still hadn’t heard from him, although Kate had promised to pass along a message for him to call her. They went live on the air in less than an hour, and she’d like to talk to Devin before then. They needed ground rules, a plan of action…. And she needed to be sure she had worked past all those stammers Devin seemed to cause in her before she made a fool of herself on air.
The guard walked her to the elevator bank. “I have to release the floor for you. Otherwise you’ll have to go to fourteen first.” At her look, he elaborated. “It’s a security measure for the hosts and their guests.” He inserted a key, pressed the button and gave her a friendly smile as he stepped out and the doors closed. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she answered, but the doors were shut and the elevator lurched upward. Megan tried to tell herself that the sinking feeling in her stomach was caused by the swift ascent, but she wasn’t a very good liar. Especially to herself.
When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, she stepped out carefully. Once again she hadn’t been sure what to expect, but so far, Broad Horizons looked a lot like every other corporate-type office she’d ever seen—gray cubicles, fluorescent lighting, sturdy carpet and the faint lingering odor of coffee and microwave popcorn. Most of the cubicles were empty, and the quiet of the post-five-o’clock workday had already begun to settle.
She stood there, feeling rather foolish and unsure what to do.
“Dr. Lowe!”
She recognized the voice as Kate’s and turned. Like everything else, Kate was completely not what Megan had expected. Tall and willowy with long black hair that curled in perfect unruliness around her shoulders, Kate looked like a supermodel. Someone that beautiful should be on TV, not hiding on the faceless radio.
At the very least, she should be sharing a couple of Dev’s billboards.
Megan felt plain and frumpy—and rather underdressed in a simple skirt, tee and cardigan. Kate looked as if she belonged on a catwalk.
A perfect smile nearly blinded her as Kate extended her hand and introduced herself. “I’m so glad you’re here, Dr. Lowe. Tonight’s show is going to be fantastic.”
I’d settle for not horrific. “Why don’t you call me Megan?”
Kate nodded before she indicated Megan should follow her through the labyrinthine offices. She had to trot to keep up with Kate’s longer strides.
“I have to admit, Kate, you’re not how I pictured you.” Realizing how that might sound, Megan tried to clarify. “Your voice, I mean. It seems like you’d be—” Yikes. That sounds even worse. “I mean…”
Kate laughed. “I understand. No one looks like you think they should once you’ve heard them on the radio.” She shot Megan a sly smile. “Except for Devin, of course. People expect a panty-ripper when they hear his voice, and he doesn’t disappoint.”
“Excuse me, a what?”
“Panty-ripper. You know, the kind of man you’d rip your panties off for.”
Megan stumbled slightly over her own feet. She couldn’t quite argue with that statement, but she certainly wasn’t going to agree out loud. Hell, she’d been guilty of some panty-ripping on more than one occasion…. She stopped that train of thought. Ancient history.
Kate continued talking, thankfully unaware of the heat stealing over Megan’s face. “But that’s the key to Devin’s cross-demographic appeal. The men like his content, and the women like his package.” She winked. “What’s the saying? Men want to be him and the women just want him.”
Did Kate want him? Was there something going on between Dev and his beautiful producer? Megan told herself it was strictly professional curiosity, but that didn’t explain the little pang in her stomach. “So where is he? Did you give him my message?”
“Devin’s plane was delayed and he’s been frightfully busy all afternoon. He must not have had a chance to call. But you’ll see him shortly.” Kate held open a door for her. “We don’t have a Green Room or anything, but you can hang out here for a few minutes and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to start prepping you.”
Prepping? That sounded as if something painful was coming. Megan wished she had a clue what went on at a radio station.
As the door closed, she realized Kate had left her in a break room. Table, fridge, couch, coffeepot—it could have been in any office anywhere, except for the pictures on the walls. She assumed many of them were on-air personalities, but she didn’t recognize their faces. Except Devin’s, of course. She did, however, recognize the people they posed with—sports stars, celebrities, politicians. Dear Lord, was that the vice president shaking Dev’s hand?
The realization hit her a little too late. Some of America’s most popular and controversial talk-radio shows broadcast out of this very building. Possibly using the same microphones and everything she was about to use. It was a little intimidating.
/> She settled on the couch and ran a hand over her hair. A snort escaped. She was going to be on the radio; it didn’t matter what she looked like since only a few people would see her.
And one of those people would be Devin. It wasn’t vanity or wanting to look good for him that sent her digging for lipstick. She was about to go talk to thousands—possibly hundreds of thousands—of people. She needed to feel confident. Even if they couldn’t see her, the confidence of knowing she looked decent would come through in her voice.
It had nothing to do with Devin.
Hard on that thought, the door opened. Expecting it to be Kate, she finished with her lipstick and dropped it into her bag before turning.
Devin stood there, a slightly mocking look on his face. “It’s radio, you know. No one can see you.”
Do not take the bait. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, as well.” Pleasure might not be exactly the right word, since her stomach felt a little unsteady as he closed the door behind him, but at least her voice sounded normal enough to her ears.
Devin acknowledged the small slam against his manners with a mocking nod. He didn’t seem happy she was here. Was he regretting inviting her on the show? Holding a grudge for her behavior the other day? He crossed to the fridge and took out two bottles of water. Handing one to her, he confirmed her earlier feeling. “I can’t believe Kate convinced you to do this.”
“Kate made some very valid points about controlling the press and putting the proper spin on things.”
“Kate would sacrifice kittens on the air if she thought it would improve our ratings.”
“So your plan is to sacrifice me?” A dread settled in her chest. Had she just walked into an even bigger disaster? Was this going to make things worse?
He shook his head. “This isn’t my plan. Not by a long shot. I only learned of this bright idea as I was landing at O’Hare today. I’ve had to rearrange several things to accommodate you.”
“Accommodate me? Kate said—” Damn. She should’ve… “Why didn’t you return my call? We could have avoided this.”
He shrugged. “The publicity was done. And I’ve been a bit busy today.”
That remark reminded her how busy she wasn’t at the moment, thanks to him and his stupid book. “I can imagine. A radio show, a book tour—it must be exhausting. How do you find the time to practice law?”
“I don’t. Much.”
“What?” That seemed impossible. Dev loved the law. Loved the tactics, the arguments, the logic required. Way back when, he’d spend hours explaining the nuances of a case or a statute to her, and his passion for law and justice had been one of the things she’d loved about him. She’d been floored to hear he’d ended up a high-priced and notorious divorce attorney, but to give it up altogether?
“My name may be on the door of the firm, but it doesn’t mean I’m on every case. That’s what partners and paralegals are for.”
“Do you miss it?” The question was out before she could stop it.
“I don’t have time for that either.” She wanted to respond to that, but Devin rushed ahead. “Sounds like you’ve done pretty well for yourself, Dr. Lowe. You became a psychiatrist after all.”
“Clinical psychologist—” no thanks to you “—but you’re close enough.” As was she—just a few more months and she’d be official.
“And is it everything you hoped it would be?”
She could hear a small undercurrent in his voice that made her wonder if he was trying to pick a fight. No one else would notice it, but she knew that tone all too well for it not to send her hackles up. She lifted her chin. “And more.”
“Good for you.” He finished the bottle of water in one long drink and tossed it into the recycling bin.
Megan battled with herself. She’d sworn she wouldn’t let her temper or her emotions control her and drive her to say or do anything that remotely resembled that debacle at the bookstore. She knew he was needling her. Intentionally. “Dr. Lowe” recognized that and knew how to handle it both properly and professionally. “Meggie,” though, wanted to smack back.
Meggie won. “So how do you like being the country’s divorce guru? Is it everything you hoped for while you were in law school?” She feigned confusion. “Oh, wait, that’s not why you went to law school in the first place. Let me guess, there’s more money in divorce than in protecting the Constitution.”
“Lots more money.” Dev had the audacity to grin at her and she felt childish for giving in to the urge to snark back. “Bit more excitement, too.”
“And to think you used to be an idealist.” The disappointment in her voice wasn’t all fake.
“Blind idealism is dangerous.”
“Ergo Cover Your Assets?”
“Exactly.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
“What?”
“The pessimism you dish out. Anyone listening to you would begin to believe that all marriages end in divorce.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Wonder where I got that idea?”
She shouldn’t have started this. They were already falling back into bad habits, and they hadn’t even been around each other a full fifteen minutes yet. At this rate, they’d be at each other’s throats by the time they went on the air. Time to be a professional—and the bigger person—and make a graceful retreat. “I tell you what—let’s not make this personal.” Dev’s other eyebrow joined the first, and she quickly amended her statement. “Or more personal than it has to be, at least.”
He nodded his agreement. “That’s my plan.”
“Good. I’m glad you have one. Why don’t you fill me in on the details of this plan?”
“It’s not too complicated, but if we’re lucky it just might work out for you.”
“And for you?”
That seemed to amuse him. “Megan, this actually has very little to do with me. I’m fine no matter what you say or do.”
“In other words, you’re doing me some kind of a favor?” She did not want to be indebted to him on top of everything else.
He just shrugged again.
“But you’ll get a boost to your ratings, too.”
“I’m number one in my time slot. My ratings don’t really need a boost.”
“But Kate said—”
“Kate’s obsessed with our ratings. You know, maybe you could help her with that.”
“If this works, and I get to go back to work, then I’ll give her all the free counseling she needs.” Biting her tongue to keep anything else from coming out, she faced him again. “So. The plan?”
“Simple, actually. First you’ll need to bottle some of that hostility.” Megan felt her jaw tighten. “Be friendly, but not too friendly. Polite. Noncommittal. Kate culled some of the more inflated speculations from the tabs and the blogs—we’ll have a good laugh over that.” That was an instruction, not a prediction, so she nodded. “The trick is to describe to the listeners how boring and mind-numbingly average our marriage really was and then make our divorce sound even more so. We’ll take calls for a while, and then it will be over.”
Over. She’d thought she and Dev were over long ago, but here they were. And to hear Dev describe their marriage as “boring” and “mind-numbing” felt like a slap across the face. Granted, they’d had problems—obviously—and that last year had gotten pretty ugly at times, but the early days had been far from boring or average. At least for her.
They’d been living on little more than love, but they’d been happy.
Dev obviously felt differently.
All her education and training had given her insight into why their marriage had failed, and she’d come to terms with that. She even knew what to say to couples going through the same things that split up her and Devin. She had perspective. She had distance. She had closure.
But hearing Dev dismiss their good times opened up all kinds of old wounds she didn’t realize could hurt anymore.
Until right now.
Thankfully, Kate choos
e that minute to return, giving Megan a much-needed moment to get hold of herself while Kate and Devin discussed show-related things she didn’t understand.
If she was smart, she’d back out of this crazy idea and go back to Plan A: lie low and ride it out. Plan B—changing her name and moving to Canada—was starting to gain traction, as well.
But then something beeped, and Kate and Devin were gathering up the few papers and bottles of water.
Kate turned her supermodel smile on Megan. “You ready? It’s showtime.”
Devin held the door open, waiting for her, and when she didn’t move, that eyebrow arched up again. Irritation crawled over her, forcing her feet into motion.
She was walking to the gallows out of pure spite.
Dr. Lowe’s official diagnosis? She was certifiably insane.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE’D MISSED THE FOURTH-grade field trip to the radio station, so Megan had spent last night trying to find out what she could about radio stations and how they worked. A couple of movies, so hopelessly out of date the disc jockeys were spinning vinyl records, some video clips posted on the internet…she still didn’t have a clue. And she hated not having a clue. Research was her friend; it made her feel comfortable and confident. But the how-to’s of radio were still a mystery, and she felt at a distinct disadvantage going into this.
That bothered her a lot. She didn’t want to be at a disadvantage—of any kind—when it came to Devin. She needed to feel like an equal. She was, she reminded herself. She wasn’t the same person she’d been all those years ago. She could hold her own—intellectually, professionally, sarcastically—against Devin Kenney.
She squared her shoulders as Devin opened a door marked Studio A. I can do this.
Two chairs facing each other across a small desk, two microphones, some computer screens—the booth looked a lot like what she’d expected from her research. Kate was on the other side of a large glass window that ran perpendicular to their table, settling into her chair and sliding large headphones over her ears. Somehow Megan knew Kate wasn’t the kind of woman who would have “headphone hair” two hours from now. She, on the other hand…
Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger Page 3
