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Praise for Kimberly Lang
‘This enjoyable tale about a pair who think they’re embarking on a sexy fling that soon turns serious treats readers to all the emotions, and all the highs and lows, that love entails.’
—RT Book Reviews on
The Secret Mistress Arrangement
‘A sizzling tale of lust developing into love …’
—Cataromance on
Magnate’s Mistress … Accidentally Pregnant!
‘Talented author Kimberly Lang delivers a fresh, up-to-date story filled with strong characters and enough sexual tension to set hearts a-twitter. Entertains with witty repartee and sizzling passion.’
—Cataromance on
The Millionaire’s Misbehaving Mistress
About Kimberly Lang
KIMBERLY LANG hid romance novels behind her textbooks in junior high, and even a Master’s programme in English couldn’t break her obsession with dashing heroes and happily ever after. A ballet dancer turned English teacher, Kimberly married an electrical engineer and turned her life into an ongoing episode of When Dilbert Met Frasier. She and her Darling Geek live in beautiful North Alabama, with their one Amazing Child—who, unfortunately, shows an aptitude for sports.
Visit Kimberly at www.booksbykimberly.com for the latest news—and don’t forget to say hi while you’re there!
Girls’ Guide to Flirting with Danger
Kimberly Lang
To Dee,
who taught me how to plant flowers,
flute a pie crust, and form proper jazz hands.
Despite her best efforts, I do none of these things well.
Thankfully, she loves me anyway.
CHAPTER ONE
FIFTY MINUTES COUNSELING Mr. and Mrs. Martin left Megan Lowe’s head pounding. She needed to talk with Dr. Weiss about getting their meds adjusted, or else one of them would end up killing the other soon enough.
Megan made a few notes in their file while the session was still fresh in her mind, and added it to the stack in her in-box. She then went in search of aspirin.
Julie, another of the three interns who handled most of the actual counseling here at the Weiss Clinic, held the aspirin bottle in her direction as Megan pushed through the swinging door of the lounge.
“I heard that all the way in here. You should be getting combat pay.”
Megan laughed as she opened a bottle of water and popped two pills gratefully. “Their volume is just set on eleven this week. I don’t think there’s any actual danger to anyone or anything—except my eardrums.”
“A thousand years in grad school and you end up the equivalent of a referee for pro wrestling.” Julie shook her head sadly.
“Only it doesn’t pay as well.”
Julie tapped the sheet of newspaper under her hand, calling attention to the full-page, full-color ad for Devin Kenney’s book. “Well, if you can’t sort them out, at least you can recommend a good divorce attorney.”
Megan felt her eye begin to twitch. “That is not funny, Julie. Not funny at all.” Why couldn’t Devin toil away in obscurity like everyone else? She’d fielded a bit of press interest last year when Devin’s radio show, Cover Your Assets, had gone into syndication, but since his book of the same name had hit the top of every bestseller list, she’d felt like the most famous ex-wife in America. Or at least Chicago.
“Actually, it is kind of funny.” Julie’s smile wasn’t in the least bit sympathetic. “And the irony is just delicious.”
“Don’t make me hate you. It’s annoying, not ironic. Plus, it’s ancient history.” History that should have been lost in the mists of time, only Dev had to make it part of his career.
“A marriage counselor whose starter marriage left Devin Kenney so bitter he made it his life’s work to get other people out of their marriages? Sorry, Megan, that’s delicious. And newsworthy.”
“You have a very liberal definition of news.” Megan flipped the paper over so the ad no longer stared at her. “New topic. Did you get your grant paperwork in?”
She didn’t miss the eye roll that accompanied Julie’s dramatic sigh as Megan went to get her lunch from the fridge, but Julie did pick up the new topic, thank goodness. The amount of time she spent thinking about Devin these days simply wasn’t good for her mental health, and talking about it wasn’t going to help either. Strangling Devin for putting her in this position might, but that wasn’t really an option. No matter how tempting the thought.
They were joined a minute later by Alice, the clinic’s receptionist, who brought a stack of messages for them both. Megan flipped through the papers absently, until one caught her interest. “The Smiths canceled?” Allen and Melissa Smith were her most fanatical clients. They had a standing Monday appointment promptly at one o’clock. They never missed it. “Did they say why?”
Alice winced as she put her lunch in the microwave. “Yeah, they did.”
There was that eye twitch again. She wasn’t going to like this. “And?”
“They’re very uncomfortable with the level of notoriety you’ve reached lately, especially since that blogger who’s been lurking around here called them at home yesterday to ask about you.”
“That guy identified and called one of my clients?” She caught Julie’s shocked face out of the corner of her eye. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
“Oh, my God. That’s … that’s …”
“An invasion of the Smiths’ privacy and a black mark on the reputation of this clinic.” Dr. Weiss—the Weiss of the Weiss Clinic—spoke from behind Megan, making her jump.
“Dr. Weiss, I’m so sorry. This is just insane.”
“I agree.” Dr. Weiss looked unperturbed and calm, but Megan knew that might just be her “counselor face.” Dr. Weiss had been a therapist for more than thirty years; she wouldn’t show surprise if Megan jumped up on the table and danced a naked cha-cha. At the moment Megan sincerely wished Dr. Weiss wasn’t quite such a master of the poker face. It was simply impossible to tell how much trouble—if any—she was in at the moment. Strangling Devin was sounding better and better.
“I’m
