Bedeviled Angel (14 page)

Logan wondered which rose the more upright, her ass or his dick?

Did he believe in magic? Hell yes. He had a feeling he was looking right at her, and if she didn't tell him exactly what she wanted, he'd be doing a whole helluva lot more than looking. "Mel, speak to me. Please."

"C'mere," she said, as she curled into a ball, shocking him out of mind, moving in such a way as to make room for him, as if she wanted them snug as spoons in a kitchen drawer. Oh boy. Logan's imagination went on red-alert. He thought about the possibilities of climbing in with her… and got a hard affirmative nod from the big guy.

Once he would have accepted her unspoken invitation in a New York minute.

Logan junior thought it a fine idea, but his other brain said he should think about it.

Logan nearly laughed. Hell, he'd been thinking about it since he met her.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come up with one solid reason, not one, for walking away. The two of them were consenting adults after all. Melody had issued an invitation, and he needed to accept or decline. A man would have to be an idiot to walk out on such an amazing offer.

He might have changed his bad-boy ways, Logan thought, but that didn't make him an idiot. Melody's impatient whimper at that precise moment made his decision for him. At the least, he could test the curve of her bottom and commit it to memory, at the most—

As if his hand had a mind of its own, Logan reached for her.

She fit his palm as if she'd been created with his fantasies and desires in mind.

Not too small, not too big, truly a wondrous bottom, the kind that made you believe in the presence of a greater being, one with an eye toward perfection.

As Logan cupped and stroked that world-class bottom, as he made his caressing way over her hip and around toward her center, Melody sighed and whimpered, a reward beyond bearing. She repeated his name, moved beneath his hand, each sexy purr, each lithe movement of her hips telling him she liked to be touched, that she was as sensuous as she was sexy.

Logan almost wished he didn't know.

THE closer Logan stroked toward the heat of her, the heavier and harder he became. Every beat of his heart echoed in his brain as he placed a knee on the bed.

Melody rolled to her back, offering new and amazing possibilities, and he damned near came.

Then he froze. Her eyes were closed. Though she had reveled in his touch, called his name, urged him on, turned him on, she had been doing so in her sleep.

As if he stepped into an ice bath Logan shivered, his erection vanished, and his heart took to beating double time. Embarrassment rushed him in heated waves. Night sounds became apparent in proportion to his returning sanity—the wind, crickets, tree frogs, chiding him in harmony.

Logan swore beneath his breath and grabbed his keys off the dresser, regret in his soul and guilt in his gut. He had just experienced the best, and worst, turn-on of his life. He had also just come as close to irresponsibility as he'd allowed in years.

He'd gotten into the habit of remaining in control, but letting his passions rule him was not the kind of control he could afford. Once, that had been everything, but not now.

Thank God, Melody hadn't awakened to discover what a lowlife he really was.

'"Jerk, scum, idiot," he called himself as he took his jacket from the closet, his words bringing a measure of sobriety… and gratitude for close saves.

Logan looked in on Shane, then checked his watch and saw that nearly half an hour had passed, while he had been lusting after his son's sitter, for pity's sake.

That he wanted to make love to Melody didn't bother him. Lust was natural. But the fleeting idea of sleeping beside her, and worse, waking beside her, frightened the hell out of him… as if he needed her.

It was time to remember that Melody Seabright spelled trouble with a capital
T
.

Logan groaned inwardly just thinking about the trouble he could get into with Melody, how close he'd just come. She exuded a madcap abandon that bordered on reckless. So what if she was there for Shane night and day? So what if Shane adored her to the point Logan feared his son would move in with her if he could?

Shane didn't know what was best for him. His father did. And joining Melody in that bed would have been one of the worst mistakes Shane's father could have made… and he had already pulled off some world-class beauties. The worst had been getting a sexy number named Heather pregnant, though the result was a gift he didn't deserve. Now he had to protect his son from another potential mistake—

Melody. Logan groaned. What had he done to hook up with Heather and Melody in the same lifetime?

His worry crystallized. Suppose Melody was every bit as flighty and unreliable as Shane's mother? Suppose she hurt Shane as badly as Heather had?

Logan checked his watch again, swore, and took the stairs two at a time. Shane started crying before he hit the landing. Logan ran back up. By the time he got there, Melody was sitting on the edge of the bed, coaxing his son awake with gentle words.

Shane opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times, focused on each of them, one on each side. No hesitation, no second thoughts, he reached for Melody, and Logan's heart sank.

"I thought you went to work," Melody said as she rocked his son in her embrace, stroked his hair, and kissed his brow. "Shh, baby, it's okay."

"I was on my way out when I heard him."

"He's too sleepy to stay awake long. We're okay. You can get going."

"Yeah, I'm… running late." At the door, Logan stopped and turned. "Mel, do you walk or talk in your sleep?"

Melody winced, a dead giveaway. "What did I do now?"

Logan shook his head, easing the concern in her expression. "You didn't do anything." He had nearly done something terrible, for which he would never forgive himself, but she had not been responsible. "I'll be back as quick as I can," he said.

Logan berated himself all the way to the station, until he remembered that Shane had been crying for his mother, and that when it came to a choice, his son had gone to Melody for comfort, not his father. Logan slammed his hand on the wheel.

"Serves you right, Kilgarven."

What had not happened with Melody in his bed had been for the best, Logan knew. He could not get involved with anyone, especially not Melody Seabright. It had taken him years to become a man in control, but it had only taken her a few weeks to break that control, and he had no one but himself to blame. He was going to stay away from her from now on.

MELODY slipped off the forties walking dress she'd just modeled for Gardner, regarded herself critically in the mirror, and wondered what was wrong with her.

She was wearing the underwear she'd been looking for on the morning of the tall ships party, just another unwelcome reminder, among many, of her shortcomings.

As if that day hadn't gone bad enough, she'd capped it by having an erotic dream about Logan… while sleeping in his bed, no less. Glory, he had been doing amazing things to her. Worse, she had wanted him to do as much, and more. The dream had been so real, she remembered waking eager and ready for him. So real, the feel of his big, capable hands haunted her still.

Later that same night, as she'd waited for Logan to return from the station, she'd realized that she would have to stay away from him, but no need. He had apparently decided to stay away from her, as far away as he could get, given the fact that they traveled to work together, and shared an office and a house.

As a matter of fact, steering clear of someone became pretty damned obvious when you tried to pull it off in close quarters. Logan's ploys to avoid her were getting embarrassing.

What had she done to drive him away?

It didn't matter. She didn't miss him. She wanted him at arm's length. She would not fall for a conservative, pinstriped workaholic. Though she'd had no say in the matter, her father amply filled the role of token tight ass in her life, which made one too many.

So what if Logan smelled of cloves, tasted of sex, and kissed like… God, and he stood so… tall, and… masculine, and his hands on her felt—

Melody broke a nail trying to tug her stubborn blouse off the hanger. "Damn it."

She pulled an emery board from her makeup kit as the bathroom door opened.

Melody squeaked, and Logan gaped, devouring her with hungry eyes, which damned near improved her mood. "Do you not know how to knock?" she snapped.

"I distinctly remember that the door stood ajar," he said, his frank appraisal stroking her like a caress, so that where his gaze lingered, Melody sizzled.

"Oh," she said, feeling like an idiot, because she remembered why the door hadn't closed properly, and it was all his fault. He had annoyed her by walking out in the middle of her impromptu fashion show, and she'd slammed the bathroom door so hard afterward, it had bounced open again.

He regarded her now, with appreciation, and her pulse kicked into overdrive.

"That color makes your eyes sparkle," he said.

Melody looked down at herself, surprised. Like a doe in headlights, she stood unmoving, in nothing but a pair of lace bikinis and a strapless underwire, which he liked very much, judging by his evident reaction.

Melody raised her chin, proud of her power, and stood her ground. She'd teach him to ignore her. "Lemon chiffon," she said, striking a pose.

"Huh?"

"The color is lemon chiffon."

"Oh."

"Hey, Mel," Woody yelled from their empty office. "Somebody called to say your kid's waiting in day care."

"Damn!" Logan whispered, quietly shutting the door, as if to protect her modesty.

"Get dressed."

"Go ahead." Melody stepped into her lime Capris and nearly lost her balance.

"Get Shane," she said, hopping on one foot. "I'll catch up with you."

"Right. Good idea."

WAITING for the elevator took more patience than Logan could muster. God Mel had looked… tasty, like a dessert he'd like to savor. "Damn." He'd felt himself harden and all but tremble with need when he saw her. He was in worse trouble after staying away from her for nearly a week than he'd been when he saw her fifty times a day.

He looked up and wondered how long the elevator had been sitting there with the doors open. He just made it inside before they began to shut. When he saw Melody coming down the hall, he dove for the "open" button, hit "close" instead, and swore, but she managed to slip between the gap in the doors anyway.

"Cranky today, are we?"

"Can it, Mel."

"Aye, aye—"

"Mel…" Logan hated when she tried to hide her amusement, like now, because it charmed him as much as it irked him, damn it. Annoyed with himself for letting her get to him, hoping no one saw him dive for the "open" button like a hormone-ripe teen, he inhaled the subtle, intoxicating scent of the day. Orchids. Okay, so he'd been sniffing the perfume bottles she kept in the office medicine cabinet. Man, had she turned him into a sick bastard, or what?

The elevator jolted to a teeth-jarring stop as the lights flickered and went out, and Melody fell against him, her thick waving mane stroking his cheek, toying with him, sending him spiraling into alert mode.

Logan wanted to bury his face in that hair, bury himself in her.

To his relief, and dismay, she regained her balance and moved away. "What happened?" she asked.

Logan grasped the railing to keep from pulling her back. He might not be able to see her, but he knew, his body certainly knew, that she stood nearby. "How the hell should I know?"

"No need to snap. I didn't take that long."

"It's not you."