She was obviously hurting, but… “There are plenty of doctors far more infamous than you. Who’s the one with the TV show?”
Calmly—almost too calmly—Megan shook her head. “They got their licenses before they became famous. Most of them don’t have licenses now because they weren’t able to get them renewed. But there’s no requirement that they need one to do those kinds of shows, so…”
He could strangle Kate, but he also had to admit he wasn’t fully innocent either. He hadn’t known what the repercussions could be, and he hadn’t torpedoed her career intentionally, but he definitely shared the blame. “So what do we do?”
“We don’t do anything. Tomorrow I will go find a job—”
“Good. Where?”
She shrugged. “I can tend bar, wait tables…”
With her skills? “You have a PhD.”
“So do a lot of other people. You’d be surprised at the educational levels of the folks serving your dinner. Just one of many reasons to tip your servers well—they probably have enormous student loan debt.” Her attempt at humor fell flat, and her wan smile told him she knew it, too.
“This is ridiculous. Kate is going to confess that she doctored the clip. If anyone is going to look bad, it’s her. Manny is working his spin right now. And if you need money—”
“You’ll loan it to me?” she scoffed.
“Forget loan.” She stiffened, and he looked for a non-insulting way to give her the money. “Manny has been quick to tell me how much I’m making off this fiasco, so it’s fair to say you’ve earned it.”
She shook her head again. For someone who seemed to be on the edge of disaster, she was oddly calm and rational. “Dev, I’m not looking for a sugar daddy. I’ll figure something out.”
Stubborn woman. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
“Because my problems are not your problems.”
It sure felt like it, though. He tried to inject some humor. “Just last week you said I was the source of your problems.”
A small smile tugged at her cheek. “True.”
“Then let me help you get through this.”
She fell silent and the beginnings of the smile faded. He recognized the look on Megan’s face. She was having an interesting internal debate, coming to a decision about something. He just wasn’t sure which decision about what. A long moment later, Megan took a deep breath. He braced himself.
“I kind of got the impression when you left yesterday—and correct me if I’m wrong—that this past weekend was some sort of new start for us. Was I wrong about that?”
The brutal honesty in her words caught him off guard. Whatever he’d prepared himself for, that wasn’t it.
Asking Devin that question had taken all the bravado she could muster. The look of shock he wore now made her want to take the question back. No, it’s a fair question. I jumped into bed with him again, so I have a right to know what he’s thinking this is about. Megan ignored the obvious addendum that she should have asked that before they had sex.
Don’t back down. She straightened her spine. “Well, Dev?”
Devin cleared his throat. “Is that what you want?”
“Don’t play games. I’m not expecting you to drop to your knees and propose or anything. I just need to know if this is fun and games for old times’ sake or if there’s a possibility this might go somewhere. Eventually.”
A long moment passed and her heart began to stutter in her chest. Had she read this situation all wrong? “I told you I have no expectations of you, but I think it might be helpful to be sure we’re on the same page.”
Dev nodded. “There’s always a possibility, right?”
That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of any future, but considering their past… No, she couldn’t hide behind Devin again now. She’d worked too hard to make something of herself, to be someone other than just Devin’s wife. She couldn’t do it. Not now. “Then there’s no way I can take money from you.”
That brought Dev’s irritation back to the forefront. He pushed to his feet and began to pace. “That makes no sense at all, Megan.”
“As you noted before, I’m a different person from the one you used to know. I’ve worked hard, and there’s no way I can go into any, ahem, ‘possibilities’ as anything less than an equal. If I let you play knight-with-a-big-fat-wallet then we’re not equals.”
“So you’ll accept nonfinancial help? Like if I put Manny to work?”
“Only if Manny wants to sign me as a client, too.”
Dev rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“And you’re being overbearing.” She caught herself and tamped down her temper. “Try to see this from my point of view. If I’m ever going to salvage my career, then I need to salvage my pride first.”
Dev shook his head and snorted. “You’re wrong.”
It was getting much more difficult to keep her ire under control. “Excuse me?”
“If you want to salvage your career, you’re going to have to swallow your pride. Your ego is bruised and your feelings are hurt, but—”
What the…? “Hang on, which one of us is the shrink?”
“This has nothing to do with psychology. This is PR, and I understand the circus you’re caught in better than you do. Forget about your pride for the moment. Do whatever you have to do to get through this and your pride will recover with your career.”
“You talk a good game, Dev, but—”
“No buts. How do you think my clients get through ugly public divorces where all of their dirty little secrets make the papers and still have careers on the other side?”
He had a point. And he knew she knew it. She could tell by the smirk on his face. “Fine. I’ll bite. What do you suggest?”
He stood in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now that you don’t have to worry about your boss, take control of your press. For real this time.”
She waved the advice away. “This from the person who doesn’t even read his own press.” When Dev continued to stare at her expectantly, she elaborated. “I tried that already, remember? It’s why this is worse, not better.”
“Meggie, Meggie, Meggie.” Dev shook his head sadly. “You went into it with the wrong attitude. Now, go put on a dress.”
“Are you bipolar now? Why would I do that?”
“Because we’re going to dinner. That’s the first step in discrediting Kate’s little hatchet job. Plus, I’m hungry.”
“I’m not in the mood to go out.” Even to her own ears she sounded like a petulant five-year-old.
“Tough.” Devin leaned forward and placed his hands on the arms of the chair, effectively caging her. He let his eyes roam down her body in a way that left her wiggling slightly in her seat. “As much as I’d rather stay in, you need to be out in public. You need to give that crowd out front a picture of you with your head held high and going on with your life. Right now you’re acting like you’ve done something to be ashamed of, and they’ll feed on that. Anyway, you’re going to need the energy a good, well-balanced meal provides,” he promised with a wicked grin.
Her career was in tatters and she’d spent the day wallowing in it without ever coming up with a solution. She didn’t necessarily believe Devin’s plan would work, but it was still nice to have a plan. To have someone in her corner staying optimistic—not with “tomorrow is another day” platitudes, but with actual plans—when she couldn’t. “Okay. I’ll get dressed.”
Devin grinned and leaned in for a kiss that lingered long enough to shake the last of the sluggishness off and bring her body to life. And when Dev offered her a hand to help her to her feet, she realized how much lighter she felt. How odd. Today was the worst day of her life, but it didn’t seem insurmountable anymore.
Something was terribly wrong with her. This feeling, though…
Megan didn’t let go of the hand pulling her out of the chair. She twined her fingers through his instead and tugged
him closer. Based on their history, she and Dev probably weren’t a good idea, and getting more involved with him now was an even worse one, but with her road map and game plan totally shot to hell, she had nothing but possibilities ahead of her.
Devin was one she was willing to explore.
Dev’s eyes lit as she slid her other hand over his chest to his neck, pulling his head closer to hers. “Before I get dressed, I need to get undressed, and if I’m getting undressed…”
She didn’t get to finish the statement. Or the thought. Or any thoughts for a long wonderful while.
Years ago, Megan had worshipped Dev. His strength, his passion, his charisma—in her eyes, he’d been just a rung down from deity. Over the next week, though, she began to wonder if Dev had moved up the celestial ladder while she hadn’t been looking.
Devin spoke; people listened. He wanted something done; it got done. He had minions and assistants and interns at his beck and call. He had hangers-on and yes-men genuflecting and seeking his approval or support.
He could walk into any restaurant and immediately get a table. Random strangers in a bar would send drinks to him or pick up the tab. He played poker with the mayor and golf with the governor’s son. She half expected to find he had the president on speed dial.
She’d known he was famous. She’d known he was popular. She just hadn’t realized how popular and famous and rich and influential he was.
And it bothered her a little bit. More than a little bit.
The reasoning behind her unease didn’t hold up under close scrutiny because Devin didn’t seem overly affected by it. Aside from his disparaging comments about her apartment, of course. When she called attention to it, he’d just shrug and brush it off as being the nature of the business. This attitude worked—at least for him—but Megan still felt uncomfortable in the spotlight. Granted, it was Devin’s spotlight and she just happened to be sharing it, but that light illuminated all the problems and inequalities and potential issues in getting involved….
And it gave her an excuse, however flimsy and annoying Dev found it to be, to continue to return to her own apartment on a regular basis. As she was now.
Only one photographer waited for her this morning—down from four at the start of the week—so she smiled and waved as she climbed the steps.
The blogs had a field day with their public reconciliation, just as Dev had predicted, especially coming so quickly on the heels of Kate’s disastrous—and now discredited—audio clip. Another appearance on Dev’s show, several very public dinners and a few pictures of her leaving Dev’s building in the early-morning hours had the media buzzing in a whole new direction. She’d gone from “psycho ex” to “the woman who might tame Devin Kenney” in a matter of days. Dev had been right about that much.
But she still didn’t have a job or a plan for what she’d do next. The focus of the media attention had turned positive, which was nice on a personal level, but the attention was still there. No job meant no money, and she couldn’t float for long on her meager savings. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow Dev to give her money, so something had to give one way or the other.
That was a more solid reason behind her return to her apartment every day. She and Dev might be “exploring possibilities,” but there was no sense in getting used to Dev’s fancy condo on Lakeshore Drive or the limos or the box seats. Coming back to her place kept her from getting too complacent, reminding her nothing right now was permanent.
It also reaffirmed her commitment to not get into anything serious while they were on such different playing fields. She’d done that before, and look how that had ended up….
No, she and Dev were having a good time, healing some old wounds and burying some ghosts from the past. That was healthy. That was positive. The fact it was repairing some damage to her ego and professional image was also a plus.
But she refused to read anything else into it.
She also had to find a job. Megan dropped her bag onto the couch and logged on to her email to see if she had any responses to the feelers she had out.
At the core of all this was the uncertainty, and that uncertainty was getting to her. Too much was up in the air for her to feel comfortable about anything. Her “possibilities that come from change” line wasn’t at all comforting, and she was beginning to think it was the stupidest mantra she’d ever adopted. Much less tattooed on her body.
Her email in-box had plenty of messages, but none of any help. However, against her better judgment and over Manny’s protests, Devin had put Manny to work on her behalf, and Manny’s name in the return address of one message caught her attention.
Sorry, Megan. No one is biting. Honestly, you’re just not as interesting now that you and Devin are a couple.
Being pronounced uninteresting stung a bit, but all things considered, that wasn’t unexpected. Manny’s casual use of “couple” to describe her and Devin, however, was. Some blogs had speculated about their possible couple-ship, mainly because Divorce Attorney and Marriage Counselor Reconcile made interesting headlines, but Manny?
No. Manny is just quoting public feeling about my uninteresting self, that’s all.
But this was ridiculous. As she expected, she was too notorious to land another internship with any reputable clinic, and the amount of time she had to get her internship hours completed if she still planned to sit the licensing exam anytime soon was ticking away. Her first instinct on that was proving correct. The irony was kicking her, because now she wasn’t notorious enough to get a job providing even weak psychotainment for the masses.
It was frustrating. Annoying. Scary. Normally, any one of those things would have her scuttling to get out and restore order to her universe. The only thing unnerving her now was her tepid response and inability to get overly worked up over it. She could blame—or was it credit?—the Dev-caused endorphins for the lack of overachiever response this should be causing.
Speak of the devil… Dev’s ring tone sounded from the depths of her bag.
“Where are you, Meggie?”
“Home.”
“I just tried that number. Why didn’t you pick up?” He sounded distracted.
She sighed. “My home, Dev. Not yours.”
“Why do you insist on going back there every day? My place is plenty big enough—”
“We’ve had this conversation, Dev,” she interrupted, and heard his exasperated sigh. “So what’s up?” Clicking her email client closed, she set the computer on the coffee table and leaned against the cushions.
“Crazy day and I left a file in the kitchen….”
“Yeah, I saw one when I went to make coffee.”
“I was hoping I could convince you to bring it to me.” She could hear the wheedle in his voice. “I’ll take you to lunch after.”
Drive back to Dev’s, get the file, drive to his office… It would be way past lunchtime by the time she got there. She looked around. It wasn’t as if she had much of anything else to do today. “I guess I could do that.”
“I appreciate it. See you in a little while.”
She hadn’t even had a chance to take off her shoes. She grabbed her keys and bag, locked the door and waved at the photographer again on her way out.
Halfway to Devin’s she remembered his army of assistants and minions. Why didn’t he send one of them to his apartment to get the file if it was so important? It would have been quicker and easier for everyone.
The next thought sent a chill through her veins. He was treating her like his wife again. And not in a good way. Belatedly she realized she’d set herself up for this exact thing—doing some cooking, running a different errand for him yesterday on her way home. They’d fallen back into some older habits, so why was she surprised about this one? After all, why send an assistant to do a job your wife could do—and had done—hundreds of times? What was next? Picking up his dry cleaning?
Talk about unequal playing fields…
Oh, no. This did not bode well at all.
He called out when he heard Megan’s knock. She’d been curled up under the covers when he left this morning, mumbling about catching up on her sleep. The stress was getting to her, he knew. The job hunt was going nowhere, she was worried about money and the state licensing exam, and even the adjustment of the media’s attitude hadn’t been able to lift that from her shoulders. She had a good game face, but he knew her too well.
If she’d just accept his help… No, Megan seemed determined to dig in her heels and go it alone. It was a bit insulting when he thought about it. She’d play his arm candy for the press, and she happily warmed his bed and body in the evenings, but she had a concrete wall around her that he couldn’t breach when it came to anything more.
There was a pinched look on her face when she stuck her head around the door, and he knew not only had there not been any developments in the search for another internship, something else had gone wrong, as well.
“You okay?” he asked, knowing he probably wouldn’t get a real answer.
“Great. Here’s the file you left. And another one I found on the coffee table. I wasn’t sure if you needed it.”
“Thanks, Meggie. You’re a lifesaver.” She accepted the light kiss he pressed against her lips, but didn’t respond otherwise. “Let me give this to Simon and I’ll take you out for a quick bite to eat.”
“I’m not hungry. Thanks anyway.”
Oh, he knew that tone. He leaned against the desk. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He waited.
“I’m not your lackey. Next time you need your errands run, ask one of your assistants.”
Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger Page 12
