Bedeviled Angel (28 page)

Maybe I do and maybe I don't
, Melody thought.

"Come with us," Logan said. "Please. He really wants you to."

Melody wished she could ask if he wanted her to, glad he appeared at least half as uncomfortable as she felt. Spending the night, for heaven's sakes, with that bitch Tiffany, after what happened between them, well… he should feel uncomfortable, damn it.

Melody ruffled Shane's hair. "Okay, buddy. Let me get my cape and bag."

Logan and Vickie shared small talk while Melody gathered her newest purchases, including a vintage ivory satin blouse with leg-o'-mutton sleeves, a lapis sequined bolero, and a pale pink angora sweater, merchandise she'd rescued from Vickie's arms before it got to the customers.

Melody kissed Vickie before she left. "What time tomorrow?"

"I love you! Eight?"

"See you then."

WHILE they waited on the Phantom Ghost Ship for the cruise around the harbor to begin, they sat on deck chairs, while Shane recounted his day for Melody, minute by minute. She was grateful, as it filled the dead space between her and Logan.

"You're in a mood," she said to Logan when Shane took a breather to pet a puppy someone brought on a leash.

"Didn't you get enough sleep last night?" She was prodding more than she should, she supposed, annoyed she was letting her jealousy show.

Logan's brow furrowed. "You should talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means—" He looked at Shane, slipped his hands into his pockets, slid broodingly low in his chair, and crossed his ankles. "I had a hard time getting my car into the garage this morning with Westmoreland's sitting in the middle of the driveway."

Melody covered her mouth with a hand, guessing she had dozed off toward morning, after all. What should she do, she wondered. Confess? Or let him believe the worst? Why not let him picture her and Westmoreland the way she had been picturing him and Tiffany all day? Damn it, he deserved a good dose of imagination, the rat, for going with Tiffany last night, instead of coining home with her. "What's a witch to do?" she said, "When you're primed, you're primed."

Logan growled—actually growled—and if looks were fire, she'd be cooked.

When the ghost giving the tour began his scare tactics over the loudspeaker, Shane scrambled into her lap.

As part of the cruise, the shipboard buffet gave Melody some great ideas for next year's Halloween show fare, until her mind took a truly creative turn. "You know what might be fun?" she told a brooding Logan as she ate a meringue ghost with chocolate chip eyes. "We could have a contest on the show early next fall for the spookiest and tastiest Halloween suppers, and the winners could get an all-expense-paid trip to Salem for Halloween, maybe tickets to the ball—" She stopped, and her face flamed.

Logan turned to stare out to sea, while need, and something stronger, tightened Melody's chest. If she didn't know better, she'd think there might be a touch of regret in the set of his shoulders as well. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "The winners could appear as guests on the show and help me prepare their winning recipes."

"Actually," Logan said, turning back to her with a grudging half smile, "that's a helluva promotional hook. I like it. I like it a lot. You wouldn't believe some of the lame ideas Tiff… came up with. Sorry."

LOGAN watched Melody turn in silence to examine the black, black sea surrounding them. If she hadn't ended up with Westmoreland last night, he might find the winking harbor lights pretty damned romantic with her beside him.

He should be glad their coat closet encounter had been forcefully halted.

Ashamed of what had transpired, what might again have begun, if he'd gone home last night, Logan had stayed at his mother's, to protect Melody, while Mel had sought solace in someone else's arms. Which she had a right to do. And while nothing had changed between them as a result of last night, the very air surrounding them felt different.

He wished now that Shane hadn't been so sincere about missing her this afternoon. For the better part of the day, Logan had managed to put Shane off, until it came to the cruise. His son had been right, everything they did without Mel was boring. Her presence alone would have made it more fun, as Shane kept reminding him.

When it came to the cruise, Shane had insisted, vehemently, that Mel come with them, to the point that Logan was forced to either punish him for his surly behavior and pigheaded determination, or heed his tear-filled entreaty. Besides, by then, Logan wanted to see Mel more than his son did.

He watched them together now, their reactions to the macabre journey sometimes trembling and sometimes amused, but always shared. The gruesome ghost guide—in gory dress and echoing speech—had finally "appeared" to the spectators. Now the pirate was telling shiver-laced tales of piracy, witchcraft, shipwrecks, all manner of supernatural events, real and imagined, Logan guessed, that might once have plagued Boston's shore.

"IS it true, Dad?" Shane asked on the walk back to the house. "Do you think it's true what the dead pirate said about a floating head dripping blood on the deck?"

Logan chuckled. "You do realize that he was a live man only pretending to be a dead pirate, right?"

" 'A course, I do." Shane snorted. "Pirates don't have cell phones."

Melody laughed. "I didn't see him use a cell phone."

"I heard it ringin' in his pocket. Teacher said people didn't have cell phones in the old days, did you, Dad?"

Shared laughter helped ease the tension.

"What time are we going trick-or-treating tomorrow night?" Shane asked. "Do we gotta wait till it gets dark? 'Specially if we have to have naps first?" Shane tugged Melody's hand as they stepped on the porch. "Dad says we gotta nap tomorrow.

Today was a long day. He was tired and grouchy 'cause the guest bed was lumpy last night."

The bulb on the porch threw just enough light so that Logan saw Melody's reaction to Shane's comment. Son of a bitch. She thought he'd slept with Tiffany last night. After what they'd shared in that cloak room? What did she take him for?

Wait a minute. What did he take her for? Suppose she had an explanation for last night. Nah. No man in his right mind could spend the night with Melody without making love to her. But he had, hadn't he, after the fire? Damn. "What time did your company finally leave this morning?" he asked, ticked he was showing his colors.

Melody turned to Shane. "How about we go trick-or-treating around four-thirty tomorrow?"

Annoyed, she wasn't giving anything away, Logan shook his head. "How about we stop with the tricks and give with the treats," he said, miffed he was reduced to playing word games instead of coming out and asking her if she'd slept with Westmoreland. And why did he think she wouldn't have, after her reference to being primed?

"Four-thirty, it is," Melody said. "See you then." She went into her apartment, winked, and shut her door, while Logan stood there watching, expecting…

something.

"Hey, Dad?" Shane stood waiting at the top of the stairs for his dumbstruck father to unlock the apartment door.

IN a kilt, Logan Kilgarven fed every woman's erotic fantasy, times three. Melody moved her gaze from his splendid physique, cute knees, wide shoulders, and that lock of hair falling on his brow, and she shook her head. Just as well the world conspired to keep them apart. Maybe it was good karma, not bad, that kept them from consummating the kind of lust she'd never before experienced, a lust driving her to distraction.

Surely she was supposed to stay away from him, she thought, even as the scent of wintergreen and cloves surrounded her. He touched her back, and indicated that she should precede him up the steps.

Shane rang Jessie's doorbell as a few stray goblins joined them on the porch. Jess and her retired district attorney friend answered together, all smiles, as they handed out treats to the goblins and watched them leave. "I put some special Halloween goodies together for Shane," Jess said, handing Shane a huge plastic pumpkin filled with more than her treat basket beside the door held for the rest of the neighborhood.

"Cool," Shane said. "Hey, this has little wrapped presents in it. Wicked cool." He stood on his toes to kiss Jessie's cheek. "Thanks, Jess."

"Open them later," Jessie said. "And don't eat too much. And you two," she snapped, raking the Scotsman and the Witch with a disapproving once-over. "All I

can say is, wise up, will you? Sheesh!" She kissed Shane's head and Melody's cheek. Then she confiscated Mel's broom and smacked Logan's shoulder a good one. "Idiot."

"Ouch! Hey!" He grabbed the broom in self-defense, teetered, and nearly fell off the porch. "What did you do that for?"

"To knock some sense into you," Jessie said, winking at Shane and shutting her door.

All the way to the next house, Logan complained about "judicial brutality," Shane riffled through his pumpkin, and Melody laughed.

After they trick-or-rreated through the immediate neighborhood, they got in Logan's car and drove to their parents' new house. Phyllis gave Shane a video game, instead of candy, and she gave Melody a kiss, and her son, a disgusted shake of her head.

"Why is everybody so pissed at me?" Logan asked as they drove away.

"Who knows?" Melody said, almost as puzzled, though way more entertained, pretty certain his mother and Jess had talked, and that both were annoyed because he'd taken Tiffany and not her to the ball. "Let's go to the Common and watch the witches form a circle. I want to see some of my own kind," Melody said, entertained by Logan's double take.

JESSIE had recently told Melody about Logan's early concern over the "witch"

gossip, and since she was still annoyed with him for not coming home with her after the ball, she had decided to taunt him, just for fun.

On the drive to Salem Common, Melody realized that her actions on the night of the ball were not much better than his. She had used Brian to keep her company, at the least, to get back at Logan for not coming home with her, at the most. And though she'd enjoyed Brian's company, they would never be anything more than friends. Fortunately, Brian knew it, too.

In the center of the city, with street parking banned, traffic moved at a snail's pace while everybody looked for a spot to park. Logan used his pass to get them into the WHCH parking garage, and they walked the few blocks to the Common, but the spectacle in progress made the trek worthwhile.