Spin Control (7 page)

Had I misjudged Devin all along? I pondered, as I
grabbed a bottle of water from the lunchroom. He'd
withstood the criticism much better than I ever could
have, and had even agreed with my and Michael's plan
by the end of the two-hour meeting. On his way out of
the conference room, Devin offered a genuine smile
and a firm handshake. Michael, Devin, and I had agreed
to regroup in a week to discuss plans in further detail;
other than that, Devin said nothing else to me after the
meeting.

Which was why I did a double take as I approached my
office, where he was examining the photos on the wall.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence. Devin
pointed to one of the pictures. "Who's the babe?"

"That babe is my friend Anna, whom you met many
times while you and I were together." I made no attempt to hide my irritation.

"I was talking about you," Devin smirked. "That's a
great picture. But why do I need to tell you how you look
in a picture when I have the real thing in front of me?"
Devin reached out for a hug, but I batted his arm away.

"You are a client. I don't hug clients."

"Kate, I just wanted to commend you on that performance in the conference room. I could tell that you
were just in love with the idea that you could knock an
old boyfriend down."

That was the first time Devin had ever acknowledged
that he and I had ever dated. Throughout the relationship, Devin felt that labels were suffocating, so he
maintained that what he and I were doing was simply
two people having a good time together.

I challenged Devin. "What makes you so sure that
what you saw in there was an act?"

"It just wasn't you"

"How exactly, Devin, would you know that was or
wasn't me?" I nearly erupted. "For you to come here
and say that I wasn't being myself is an insult that I
don't want to hear. People change, Devin. I suggest you
do the same."

Devin began to shake with laughter, which only annoyed me even more. "What's so funny?" I demanded.

He shook his head and wiped away a fake tear. "I
was just playing with you. I was seeing if I could still
get a rise out of you, and I certainly can. You're the
same old spitfire I remember from a few years back.
And by the way, it's sexier than ever."

Fortunately for me, his strong come-ons didn't affect
me-much. Oh, it was certainly vintage Devin, think ing that he could throw out a few well-placed compliments and just watch me fawn after him at his feet.
That's right, I needed to channel this disgust, if only to
avoid getting hooked all over again. One thing I did
know was that I needed to keep my physical distance
from him, so I walked backwards toward an opposite
corner of my office.

Devin's face suddenly became serious. "How have
you been doing, Kate? I think about you a lot. When I
saw you in the conference room, I just couldn't ... you
had me speechless, you know? For the last week, I've
been racking my brain trying to figure out why Burton
Relations sounded so familiar to me. Now I realize."

I heard nothing else after "I think about you a lot"
That jerk. Nice of him to confess this after ignoring me
for two years. Broken dates, I reminded myself. So
considerate of him to tell me how fabulous and sexy I
looked now, considering he hadn't said a peep about
those things when we were dating. I was not about to
get sucked into that trap again. I am a strong, professional woman, I am in touch with the world in which I
live...

Forget all that, I thought. I was in touch with not letting a jerk like Devin rake me over the coals again. And
forget about his sweet talk. We were here for work, and
work we'd talk about. "Yes, I'm still at Burton Relations, obviously. I've had some great accounts-"

"And I suppose this one is the best?" Devin interrupted.

I attempted to decipher some sarcasm in his words. I
stopped him, though, before he could speak any more.

"Devin, you may think that having you as a client is
a gift from the heavens, but I have been and will continue to work as hard on this project as I do my others.
I have faith that both you and I can put the past aside
and handle this in the most professional way possible."

"If you think that is possible," Devin muttered.

"I know it is."

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

"What did I just say about keeping the personal separate from the professional?"

"Spoken like a true PR rep-avoid answering the
tough questions. Let me try it again: Are you seeing
anyone?"

Just as I opened my mouth for a flustered reply,
Michael appeared at the door, his jacket strewn over his
arm. He looked surprised. "Um, Kate, can you still
make it to our lunch meeting?"

Lunch meeting. Code word for escape. I had almost
forgotten. "I'll meet you at the elevator banks in five
minutes," I told Michael.

Devin waited until Michael was out of earshot before
speaking. "Forget about the last question. I already figured it out."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Kate. He was practically salivating and
panting!"

"Come on, Devin, I haven't seen you in two years
and now you're asking me who I'm dating and making
insinuations about my coworkers? Not that it's any of
your business, but the same goes for him as it does for you or any other male who crosses my path in this job:
I don't mix business with pleasure."

Devin was unconvinced. "Say what you will, but I
have a pretty good idea what's going on in that head of
yours."

I grabbed my purse and headed to the door. "Don't
be so cocky. That's what got you in this office in the
first place."

"How does this spot look?" Michael pulled out a chair
for me and made sure I was seated before he sat down.

The restaurant was on the first floor of our building.
Dangling blue and yellow light fixtures accented the
mahogany bar area, while the dining area was more
formal with white tablecloths and upholstered chairs.
We were only one of six people in there, as most of the
lunch crowd had already dissipated. Michael and I had
each ordered a glass of champagne in celebration of
our victory-or at least a first step on the road to what I
hoped would be a victory, both personal and professional. Gwen surprised us by generously suggesting
that we take the rest of the afternoon off. Then again,
what she asked us to do in the last twenty-four hours
was nothing short of turning water into wine.

I propped an elbow on the bar. "So, Michael, why,
exactly, did you come to New York? Just a little too
much sunshine out west for you?"

"It was probably the least calculated thing I did in
my life," he admitted. "I don't know, one day I just felt
that I owed it to myself to live someplace other than Southern California. I mean, I was born and raised
there-yes, it's true, there are a few of us like that out
there-went to UCLA, got a job at a film studio right
out of college, went into PR, and just wanted a change"

"No other catalyst?" I prodded.

He shifted. "Maybe"

"Was it a girl?" I asked pointedly.

"Yes, my ex-fiancee, to be specific." Suddenly he
was intently focused on unwrapping the linen napkin
holding the sterling silver flatware. I certainly didn't
want to make the guy feel uncomfortable, but he
quickly shook his head and snapped back to reality.

"We met at work. We'd been split up for about a year,
but she and I were still working together, and I just
thought, `Michael, quit being an idiot and forcing yourself to face your ex every day.' So rather than looking
for a new job in L.A., I used my connections to find
something out here"

"And you found Gwen?" I was perplexed.

"It was kind of odd. Okay, she was kind of odd"
Michael laughed as he traced the rim of his wine glass.
"But despite her practically being a caricature, she was
the only one who was upfront with me about what I'd
be doing and what her mission was with her firm. And I
had been with the big studios, the big publicity houses,
my whole working life. Gwen was offering a competitive salary, I was willing to give the small firm a try, and
here I sit, nearly a year later."

"So, was it everything you thought it would be?"

"Well, Gwen's a little crazier than I thought, but it's
charming, in a twisted sort of way"

"Yes, it certainly takes a special breed to work with
her."

"Yikes, what does that say about us?"

"That we love torturing ourselves?" I said dryly, as I
reached for my glass of water.

"So, how did it end?"

"Pardon me?"

"How did it end with the fiancee?"

Michael grinned. "Oh, I see, you're using the same
trick I used on you last night."

I shrugged. "I'm not above it. Seriously, though, no
pressure if you don't want to talk about it."

"Well, without boring you with all the details, Jillian wanted her freedom, and she found that freedom
with, oh, let's see, an actor, a director, and eventually
our boss."

I wrinkled my nose. "Eww. What was your boss like?"

"Happy as a middle-aged clam once he got her into
bed."

"And you worked with both of them for a year after
that?"

"Makes you think twice about dating your coworkers" His eyes darted toward the back of the restaurant,
while I wondered why his comment stung as much as
it did.

He expertly covered up his comment. "You want to
know how desperate I was to find an explanation for
what went wrong? I actually bought Men are from
Mars, Women are from Venus."

"Wow, I've heard rumors that a man or two might
have actually read that book. So," I asked him sheep ishly, "did you see it on my bookshelf last night and
you were just too put off to bring it up?"

"No, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of
you, but I might be doing that just now." He smiled, and
for the first time, I noticed a dimple on his left cheek.

"You wanna talk about embarrassing? Once I worked
out the nerves at our meeting, all I could think about
was eating."

"I knew I'd win our little bet" Michael's eyes crinkled as he lifted his glass to his mouth. Much to my
chagrin, I caught myself staring at his soft lips. "How
does it feel eating crow?"

"Eating crow! That's something my mom would say"

"Oh, great, are you saying that I'm old and feminine?"

"No, just old." I winked.

"Do you even know how old I am?"

I offered a tongue-in-cheek guess. "Forty-nine"

Michael threw back his head and laughed. "Great
guess. Try thirty-two."

"That's what I said. Thirty-two. When's your birthday?"

"March 9" Michael wrinkled his brow.

My lips curled. "Pisces"

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" Michael looked around. "If our
waiter shows up, we'll have to ask him what fabulous
prize our lovely contestant wins?"

I leaned over the table-had it just shrunk and
brought us closer together?-and slugged Michael's
tricep. Could he have been flexing just for me? "I'm a
Cancer. Pisces make the best friends for us, or so the
book Lucky Stars tells me. You probably saw that on the bookshelf, too" Was my low blood sugar clouding my
thought process? Apparently our waiter had taken his
lunch break.

"Yes, we are astrological matches. Quite compatible
for each other." I wasn't quite sure if that's what he actually said, as my sights were elsewhere: watching the
door, or more specifically, watching Devin exit.

Michael followed my gaze and his eyes cooled. "Was
he here the whole time?"

"Nah. Just came in, scanned the place, and went
away. I don't think he saw what he was looking for. Or
maybe he saw us and scampered away. Like a scared
little bunny."

"Why would he do that?"

"I'm telling you, the guy is one big puzzle."

"Do you think that's why women are drawn to him?"
Michael sounded genuinely puzzled himself.

"Could be the supermodel good looks or the outrageous fortune, but sure, I suppose this air of mystery intrigues women."

"I've noticed that a lot about women, at least the
ones I've dated," he amended. "The tougher a guy is to
figure out, the more attracted they are to him."

I frowned, though I wasn't sure if it was because, on
some level I knew he was right, and I didn't want to admit it.

Fortunately, I was spared a chance to respond, as our
server finally arrived at the table, unapologetic for
making us wait.

Michael gestured toward me, letting me order first. I
realized that while I was feeling starved, I hadn't once opened the menu. When I did, I suddenly became selfconscious about what to order. Get over it, Kate, I said
to myself. You're not on a first date. Don't be foolishorder what you want! "Chicken Caesar salad with
dressing on the side," I ordered sheepishly.

Perplexed, Michael ordered steak tartare and a cold
shrimp appetizer.

"I thought you were ravenous," he commented as the
waiter walked away.

"Maybe the three sips of champagne have clouded
my judgment," I unconvincingly offered.

"Cheap date" He smiled.

So I wasn't the only one who felt like we were on a
date. Or maybe he was just being nice. Or maybe I
didn't need to overanalyze it because this was strictly a
business lunch.

I swiftly changed topics, a natural gift of mine.
"What did you think of Fox?" I asked.

"He seems like a genuine guy" Michael nodded with
pleasure in recalling the meeting. "And people around
this city appear to think the same. Makes you wonder if
Devin's trying to distance himself as far as possible
from his perfect father."

"Try as we might, I believe we're destined to repeat
our parents' patterns."

"I hope that's the case with me" I saw Michael's
face soften for the first time. "My parents have been together for 35 years. When I was younger I was so embarrassed by their gushiness toward each other, but
now, it's something that I really want for my own life, you know?" Michael paused, as if regretting what he
said. He hastily changed the subject.