Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger

by Kimberly Lang

  “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 no
t 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.

  And now she couldn’t shake off the images of an equally naked Devin that were foremost in her mind and shaking up her libido.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure it’s out of your way….”

  “I don’t mind. It’s probably the least I can do.”

  Decision time. Continuing to argue with him over this would be juvenile, but there simply wasn’t a graceful way to decline without sounding petty and petulant. Then there was the voice of her inner accountant who had calculated the fare for the trip home and was screaming to accept the ride if she wanted to make rent this month. Financial recklessness in order to make a stand? That was more than juvenile. It was stupid. And after the mess he’d put her in, he did at least owe her cab fare.

  “Then I accept.” She forced herself to smile as Devin opened the studio door and held it for her. Kate waved as they left, and it was all Megan could do not to make a rude gesture in return.

  She really was losing her grip on her sanity.

  Thankfully, Devin was quiet on the long elevator ride down to the garage under the building. He pulled out his phone and began checking messages, so she did the same. None worth responding to, but it kept her hands and eyes occupied and made being trapped in a small box with Devin a little easier.

  The parking garage was all but deserted, and the hum of fluorescent lights bouncing off the gray concrete walls seemed like the setup for something in one of those bad horror movies Dev used to love to watch. It gave her the willies.

  Devin must have noticed, because he called her on it.

  She shrugged. “I just can’t help but feel like that blonde girl in every horror movie right before the serial killer jumps out with a chain saw.”

  That caused Dev to laugh, and the sound had a disturbing effect on her stomach. “The blonde girl who dies is always alone. And usually wearing substantially less than you are.”

  The way Devin’s eyes roamed over her as he spoke sent her mind back to earlier uncomfortable thoughts about states of nakedness. She tried to think of something witty to say, but her thoughts were a bit too scrambled. She settled for the nonwitty “Good point.”

  When she heard the beep of Devin unlocking his car, she finally took notice of the car he was headed toward. Low-slung, sleek and red, the car was every teenage boy’s fantasy. As he opened the door for her, she let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Nice car. Divorce does pay well, it seems.”

  “That it does,” he answered, then closed the door on any further comment she might have made. She didn’t know much about cars, but even she could appreciate the butter-soft leather seats and dashboard that resembled a cockpit. When Devin slid into his seat and brought the engine to life, she could feel the horsepower rumbling under her feet.

  Devin braced his hand on the back of her seat as he backed out of the space, and she got an unwelcome reminder of why this was such a bad idea. He was only inches away, and even the tiniest movement of his hand would cause his fingers to brush against the nape of her neck. Goose bumps rose on her skin and she fought back a shiver.

  Of course Devin couldn’t drive one of those huge SUVs, where a couple of feet would have separated them. Oh, no, the tiny sports car meant his arm brushed hers as he shifted gears, and every time she inhaled, the familiar scent of his aftershave tickled her nose. Once upon a time the scent had been comforting and calming. Not now. Tonight it jangled her nerves and made her palms sweat.

  She had to get contro
l of herself. “A red sports car is a cliché, don’t you think?”

  Devin shrugged. “I always wanted one. Don’t you remember?”

  She did, now that he mentioned it. A fancy car much like this one had always been Dev’s wish when they played “One Day When We Are Rich.” They’d drink off-brand beer and pretend it was champagne while they planned the fabulous vacations they’d take and the house in the country they’d buy.

  It all seemed a little silly in retrospect, but it brought a small smile to her face before a feeling of sadness and loss for the kids they were and the dreams they’d had settled on her shoulders.

  The feeling passed, though, when she realized Devin had achieved part of their dreams without her. “But now I know that sports cars are overcompensation devices for men who are, ahem, lacking.”

  Dev’s smile was wicked in the half-light of the car, and she knew instantly she shouldn’t have gone there. “I don’t remember you complaining about my lack of anything. In fact, you seemed more than satisfied with my compensation.”

  Heat rushed to her face, and she could feel her ears burning. She refused to take the bait, though, and chose instead to move to the neutral topic of directions. Dev’s eyebrow went up when she told him her address, but thankfully, he didn’t press further.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, and Megan stared out the window at the familiar scenery to keep from trying to watch Devin’s face out of the corner of her eye. It was ridiculous to be so uncomfortable. This was just Dev, for goodness’ sake. At the same time, this was Dev, and that did funny things to her heart rate.

  When he spoke, she jumped. “Everything else aside, you did well tonight. On the air, I mean.”

  She turned in time to see the side of his mouth curve upward at the last sentence. Small talk. Excellent idea. “Thanks. It was both easier and more nerve-racking than I thought. If that’s possible.”

  “I understand. Not everyone does so well their first time.”

  “You’re very good at what you do—on the air, at least,” she qualified, and that got another smirk from Devin. “I can’t say I agree with even half of what you said to your callers, but I’m impressed nonetheless.”