The woman’s sputter barely registered as he crossed the bookstore, dodging a table full of his books, and got closer to Megan. As he closed the distance, her blue eyes narrowed, but not before he saw the cold fire burning there.
So the anger was directed at him, personally. Interesting. He should let Manny handle it, but his conscience wouldn’t let Megan’s feelings be hurt like that. It would be letting a bully kick a puppy, and regardless of anything else, he couldn’t let that happen.
Plus, he was too curious now to see what had brought Megan intentionally back into his universe after seven years.
The freshman fifteen she’d battled in college was long gone, bringing out her cheekbones and giving her a delicate look that was at odds with the angry jut of her chin. That T-shirt scooped low on her chest, snuggling tightly against the curves of her breasts—breasts that the position of her arms were pressing together and up as if they were begging for his attention.
As if she realized the direction of his thoughts, Megan shifted, bracing her hands on her hips and pressing her lips into a thin line. With her light blond hair, big blue eyes, tiny stature and ticked-off look, Megan resembled an angry Tinker Bell at the moment.
Manny stood behind her, still talking, but Megan didn’t spare him a glance. Her eyes bored into his as he approached.
“Sorry, Devin, but this woman says—” Manny started.
He waved Manny silent. “Not a problem.” Manny sputtered, and Megan seemed to be grinding her teeth. Aware of their audience, he turned on his best media-honed charm and smile. “Megan, this is a surprise. I’m flattered you’d come.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. You’re a dead man, Dev.” Her voice was quiet, but the heat behind it was fierce.
Manny took a step back. “I’ll get security.”
“No need. This is Megan Lowe. My ex-wife.”
Manny scowled at Megan. “You didn’t mention that.”
She rolled her eyes in response. “Could you excuse us for a minute? I need to talk to Devin. Privately,” she forced out between gritted teeth.
Manny looked at him for confirmation, obviously still ready to get security to remove a half-crazy woman. It wouldn’t be the first time. Devin nodded. “It’s fine, Manny. Give us a minute. I’m sure Megan doesn’t actually plan to attack me.”
“Wanna bet?” she snapped.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of fifty people, would you?” he warned. Megan was fired up about something, but he didn’t want this to make the papers.
She looked around, then blew out her breath in a long sigh. The most fake smile he’d ever seen crept over her face as she turned to Manny again. “Of course not. I just need a few minutes of Devin’s time.” The sugary sarcasm dripping off her words didn’t bode well for whatever she needed those few minutes for.
Manny backed off a few steps, and Devin reached for Megan’s elbow. She jerked away before he could touch her. Lord, she really was mad, but why had she decided to confront him here? Whatever bee was in her bonnet, the middle of a busy bookstore during one of his signings wasn’t the place to discuss it. With a sigh he indicated the stockroom he’d been stashed in earlier before the signing began. “How about in there?”
Megan hitched her bag up again and squared her shoulders. She walked stiffly, that fake smile fixed on her face until the stockroom door swung shut behind them. Then she turned on him. “How could you, Dev?”
“How could I what? You’ll need to be more specific.”
Megan pulled a copy of his book out of her bag and tossed it at him. “This.”
He caught it reflexively and looked at her. When she didn’t elaborate, he prodded her. “Should I make it out to you, or is it a gift for a friend?”
“Neither.” She snorted. “I’ve got your autograph already. On my divorce papers.”
“Then what?” She didn’t answer, but he could see the muscle in her jaw working. “Need some legal advice?”
She tilted her head, and the end of her ponytail 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