fell to rest on the heaving swell of her breasts above the neckline of her shirt. A faint flush colored the skin there, barely noticeable in the dimness of the stockroom. “Actually, I could use some legal advice. What’s the difference between slander and libel?”
He pulled his attention from her cleavage. “What?”
“How about defamation of character? Can I sue you for that?”
Meggie rarely made sense when she got good and mad, but this seemed to be extreme, even for her. “Why don’t you calm down and tell me—”
“Don’t you dare patronize me, Devin Kenney. Your radio show was bad enough, but this book …”
Old habits warred with each other. Placate or fight back? “I don’t think—”
“And therein lies the problem. Did you never once think that people might be interested in the ex-wife of America’s most popular divorce attorney?” Megan began to pace, her hands moving agitatedly as she spoke. “That people might think that some of the things you mention on the radio or the stories in this book are based on your personal experience? Or that they might come looking for me, wanting dirt or backstory or something?”
Ah, unwanted notoriety. “You’re all spun up because some tabloid wants you to dish the dirt on me?”
She crossed her arms on her chest again as she stared at him, eyes snapping. “Not just some tabloid. All the tabloids. All the cable news channels. Half a dozen talk shows and every damn blogger in the universe. Do you not keep up with your own press? Haven’t you seen my name next to yours recently?”
He didn’t keep up with his own press; he didn’t have time. That’s why he had Manny. And they’d be having a conversation about that later on. After he finished with Megan.
Her anger made a bit more sense now. Megan was so shy, the media hounds would be too much for her to deal with without major stress. Feeling a twinge of guilt that Megan had been pulled into this media circus at all, he reached for her arm out of habit, simply to calm her. When she stepped back, he remembered he didn’t have the right to touch her anymore. He leaned back against a stack of boxes instead. “The fact we were married once is public record. I can’t change that.” She took a deep breath, and he held up a hand, trying to be diplomatic. “But I am sorry you’re being bothered by the press. It’ll blow over soon.” Something about that phrase made her nostrils flare and the color in her cheeks deepen. “Feel free to milk this any way you want, though.”
“I don’t want to milk this. I want it to go away. My career may never recover as it is, but if this continues …”
He tried to follow the change in topic. “Your career?”
“I realize it was never high on your radar, but surely you remember I wanted one of those, too.”
Oh, he remembered, all right. She’d moved to Albany and filed for divorce in pursuit of her precious career. The bitter taste of that memory settled on his tongue and made his next words sharper than intended. “I don’t see how a little fame could have any detrimental effect on your career.”
“I’m a therapist.” He shrugged in question and Megan’s jaw clenched again. “Primarily a marriage therapist,” she managed to grit out.
He felt his eyebrows go up, and a small chuckle escaped before he could stop it.
Megan rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes, yes, I’m aware of the irony. As are all the people contacting me about you. But I’m damn good at what I do. And I was building a nice client list and decent reputation. Until now.”
“And?”
“Let’s see. The press won’t leave me alone. They call my office and my house at all hours. My email overflows, and one even tried to pose as a new client. I could handle that, but now my clients are being harassed by the press, which is a horrible invasion of their privacy, not to mention embarrassing for them and the clinic I work for. The speculation in the tabloids about our marriage makes me look like some kind of psychotic harpy, which tends to make people think twice about listening to my advice.” She was pacing again, working that head of steam back up. “Oh, and there’s the little issue of being placed on extended leave because all of this interferes with the entire clinic’s ability to do business. So, thank you, Devin, for screwing up my life. Again.”
That accusation rankled, but he wasn’t going to argue who had screwed up whose life in the first place. He’d win that battle. But that was ancient history. He did feel slightly bad Megan was catching flak—and that he’d been unaware of any of it. Regardless of his reputation, he wasn’t completely heartless. Even when it came to her. “I didn’t know. I’ll try to do some damage control, if you want. Make it clear that we were so long ago that nothing of us is part of the book.”
Her shoulders dropped. “It’s a start. But I doubt it will help.”
Old frustration edged its way back in. “Then exactly what do you want me to do?”
* * *
The question hung between them in the dim stockroom, and Megan didn’t have an answer.
Anger and indignation had brought her this far and now she regretted giving in to either emotion. So much for “positive confrontation.” All those “I” statements—I think, I feel—she was supposed to use in this situation had evaporated under the heat of her emotions. Good God, if Dr. Weiss had heard that outburst … She cringed inwardly. She’d be sent back to Psych 101 to start over again. The outrage drained away, leaving her feeling hollow and foolish.
It was a familiar feeling. One she didn’t like.
She just hadn’t been properly mentally prepared to see Devin again. Face-to-face, at least. She’d debated taking this internship simply because Devin was so famous, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the same town. But an internship at the Weiss Clinic was too prestigious to turn down over an ex-husband. Not in a town this size, where she was practically guaranteed to never run into him.
Then she’d moved here and his picture was all over town: on the sides of buses, on billboards, in magazines. Devin’s I’m-up-to-something smile was everywhere. It was wreaking havoc on her psyche, but she’d learned how to ignore it—for the most part.
But all that practice hadn’t prepared her to be in the same room with him. Alone. His long, lean body took up way too much space, and her nerve endings seemed to jump to high alert. Devin appeared to suck up all the available oxygen in the room, leaving her with nothing to breathe except the unique scent of him that she—and something inside her—recognized immediately. Those liquid brown eyes, the way his dark hair curled just slightly behind his ears … Those hands—oddly elegant for a man who oozed testosterone from every pore—brought visuals she didn’t need right now.
It was terribly unfair to discover that after all these years Devin still had an effect on her—especially when she obviously had no effect on him at all. Her inner eighteen-year-old was stuttering and stammering just being this close to him, and it irritated her to no end.
And now she’d stormed in here and acted exactly like some kind of crazy ex. And considering how reasonable he was being … She wanted to go hide under a rock for the next five years or so. She might recover her pride and get over the embarrassment
