Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger. Kimberly Lang
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have “headphone hair” two hours from now. She, on the other hand.
Dev’s “ahem” brought her back to the present. He was indicating a chair. “You’ll sit here. That’s your mic—be sure you get close to it, or folks won’t be able to hear you. Here—” he handed her a set of headphones “—put these on. And don’t touch anything.”
Megan bristled. “I’m not five. I think I can handle that.” Trying to look as if she did things like this all the time, she settled into the chair and smiled through the window at Kate.
“This is your last chance to back out, Megan. We’re going to be live, and while there’s a five-second delay, I won’t be able to walk you through one of your panic attacks.”
She almost let a sarcastic comment fly before she realized Dev had every right to be concerned about his show. It was the sign of a professional. She needed to respect that—at least while they were on the air. She’d keep her tongue behind her teeth if it killed her in the process.
She tried for a noncommittal tone. “I haven’t had a panic attack in years, but thanks for your concern.”
Dev looked surprised. “You haven’t? That’s a surprise.”
“Do you think I could help other people if I couldn’t learn to help myself first? I wouldn’t have lasted long in this business if I couldn’t talk to people.”
“That’s impressive, Meggie. Good for you.”
She couldn’t quite tell if that was grudging admiration in his tone or more sarcasm. She chose to accept the compliment, regardless of its sincerity. “Thank you. It means I should be able to get through this just fine.” At least I hope so. She could feel all kinds of old insecurities bubbling up to the surface, and they felt much like a panic attack.
As Devin pulled his chair up to the desk, she realized how small the booth was. Not claustrophobic small, but not large enough to be in with your ex-husband sucking up all the oxygen, either. By the time she got her chair in place, only about a foot of space separated them. She tucked her feet under the chair, not wanting her legs and feet to accidentally tangle with his. No footsie under the table tonight.
Kate signaled them, and Devin put his headphones on. She did the same, and a panicky flutter started in her stomach. She took deep, calming breaths, trying to focus.
Through her headphones she heard Devin’s theme music and intro. Then Devin leaned into the mic and started to speak.
It was as if his lips were only inches from her ear. She jumped, and her hands flew to her headphones, nearly pulling them off her ears in response to that baritone seeming to speak only to her.
She caught herself and pretended to adjust the headphones instead. Just another thing she hadn’t prepared herself for. Her need to stammer seemed right on the end of her tongue, but Kate and Devin were bantering a bit, and the mention of her name returned her attention to the proper place.
“… welcome Dr. Megan Lowe, my ex-wife, to the show.”
Both Devin and Kate looked at her, obviously expecting a response, and for a moment she faltered. Her heart thudded in her chest. How many people were listening? Every old insecurity she thought she’d buried was clawing its way to the surface.
Then Devin smirked at her.
A little spark of ire flared in her stomach, and that helped her gain control of herself. Trying to match his mock, she plastered a smile on her face, leaned into the microphone and prepared to meet the nation. “Thanks, Dev. I can’t say I’m pleased to be here, but I appreciate the invitation, nonetheless.”
He’d expected Megan to fold long before now. Saying she’d outgrown her shyness was a far cry from actually doing so, and he’d been ready to kill her mic and go to tape if she had a total meltdown. But twenty minutes into the show she sounded cool and poised, and her voice carried just a touch of mocking cynicism.
He’d seen the tiny flare of panic rise, but only someone who knew her very well would know that the wrinkle in her forehead was a warning sign of her discomfort. But the panic was gone as quickly as it had risen, and she managed to sound both amused and bored with the circus the media had made of her life and the outlandish speculation Kate had found on the blogs.
Megan’s voice slid a notch down on the register as she leaned into the mic, giving her a seductive, husky tone that had to have half his male listeners at attention. He certainly was. When Kate commented on the main talking point—the fact Megan counseled couples to stay together when she herself was divorced—Megan chuckled.
She might as well have run a hand over him. The sound seemed to hum through his headphones directly through his body as if they were alone. Intimate.
He tried to shake off the feeling, but when Megan tilted her chin half an inch in his direction, he wondered if she’d done it on purpose.
No, Megan couldn’t think she’d still have an effect on him after all these years. Hell, he wouldn’t have dreamed it was possible if he hadn’t felt the electric shiver over his skin.
Through the window Kate beamed an I-told-you-so grin, but she would have been equally glad to have Megan crash and burn. Kate pointed at her computer, meaning the callers were lining up. A glance at his screen confirmed it.
Seemed as if Megan was on her way to fifteen minutes of fame instead of shame. He was oddly, inexplicably proud of her.
He brought the first caller on. “Caller, you’re on the air.”
“This is Andrea from Las Vegas. I’m a big fan of your show, Devin, but my question is actually for Dr. Megan.”
Megan covered an amused snort with a small cough before she turned to him and mouthed, “Dr. Megan? Really?”
He shrugged.
Megan shook her head and leaned into the mic. “Hi, Andrea. What’s your question?”
“So why’d you two get divorced? Who left who?”
Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear her answer to this. When Megan looked to him, question written all over her pixie features, he folded his arms over his chest and shrugged.
Megan stuck out her tongue at him before she answered. “Devin and I were young when we got married—college sweethearts, in fact—and we had some maturity issues and some disagreements about what we wanted from our lives and each other. Those differences proved to be irreconcilable.”
“So Devin left you?” It was more of a statement than a question. Maybe he should have warned her his listeners wouldn’t accept vagueness.
He saw Megan’s shoulders straighten. “Actually, I left Devin and filed for divorce.”
At the caller’s gasp of disbelief, he cut in, challenging Megan with a grin. “Hard to believe, huh?”
She rolled her eyes, but picked up the gauntlet. “Trust me, Andrea, he totally deserved it.” Her grin turned slightly evil, but her voice sounded conspiratorial. “He wasn’t always this charming, you know.”
“But surely he was still this hot, even back then. You had to be crazy to walk away from that,” the caller continued, and through the booth’s window he could see Kate practically crowing in glee as the queue of callers grew longer.
Megan cleared her throat. “There’s a lot more to a good marriage than the hotness of one partner. Lust can only hold a couple together for so long—at some point there has to be something more. Some commonality. Some kind of meeting of the minds. I’m not implying that Dev’s just a pretty face….” She trailed off, doing exactly that.
Kate was about to fall off her chair in excitement, and Megan shot him a look of triumph. The computer in front of him flashed as listener emails started flooding his in-box. It was time for him to take his show back in hand, damn it.
“Emotional stability helps