Bedeviled Angel (35 page)

"Arrested? It's my station."

"You want to duke that one out with your father and the police, then?" She paled but said nothing. "I didn't think so," Logan continued. "No more sabotaging Melody's shows, not an unkind word, a snub, or snide remark. Stay clear of her, of the station actually. Yeah, go work at another station—you've got plenty—and no one says a word. Oh, did I tell you that Melody also recognized your nail when the police found it?"

"Logan. I'm sorry, I was… afraid—"

He stepped beyond her reach and into the foyer. "Get your father, Tiff. You need to tell him you don't want to marry me."

Max came down in a chocolate brocade dressing gown, looking tired. He asked about the break-in, and Melody's missing show, and mentioned the seven-figure cost to the station if they lost it.

Tiffany lowered herself to the edge of a chair and gave Logan an imperceptible nod.

"After the police left last night," Logan told Max, "Melody and I managed to retrieve the raw clips from the server. We stayed up half the night reformatting. The show's not exactly the same as the original—Mel thinks it's better—but you've got a Thanksgiving show to ship this morning."

"I may not wait for the wedding to make you a partner," Max said as he accepted a cup of coffee from a maid.

Logan turned to Tiffany, who sighed. "Logan and I are not getting married after all, Daddy."

"Your daughter has decided to end our engagement, sir. We wanted you to know as soon as possible. I'll have my resignation on your desk by noon. Though, after last night's save, I'm still hoping for a recommendation."

"Suppose I don't accept your resignation?"

"To be fair to your daughter, I don't think you have a choice."

Max rose with a sigh. "I can't say I'm not disappointed. You've been an asset, and I still think you'd make a great partner." He gave his daughter a different look this time, as if he wondered where he'd gone wrong.

He shook Logan's hand at the door. "Come see me later. We'll see what we can find… er, we're not losing Melody, too, are we?"

"No, sir." Logan shot Tiffany a meaningful glance. "You've still got your Kitchen Witch."

"Good, good. I thought, perhaps, er… glad to hear it."

MELODY paced half the morning, wondering what Logan was up to. He'd barely spoken to her since returning from Tiffany's. He remained quiet and introspective in the car and worked in silence at his computer after they arrived. Then he went, God knew where, without a word.

He hadn't given her a straight answer or met her eyes once all morning. True, they'd made love all night in this very room, but she didn't think that was the problem. She'd known, of course, that everything would be different once they consummated their lust, but she hadn't expected it to be this different, or this frightening.

Logan returned to the office after about two hours.

"Where have you been?" Melody asked.

"I gave Peabody my resignation, and he accepted it."

"Idiot." Melody lowered herself to the sofa. "What are you going to do now?"

"Work on my resume?"

"To protect Tiffany? You think that selfish bitch is worth your job?"

"Keep your voice down," Logan said, shutting the office door. "The bitch's father owns your ass."

"You can be such a shit."

"Hey, don't hold back," Logan said, twisting the cap off a soft drink. "Tell me what you really think."

"You jerk," she said, coming to press a finger to the center of his tie. "I'm furious with you."

"Stay that way." He kept himself from raising her finger to his lips. "But tell me what I did to make you so mad."

"You got involved with the boss's daughter, for one thing, then to make matters worse, you quit your job, you dunce."

"You're right. I failed… again. If I can face it, so can you."

"You once accused me of failing so I could fulfill my father's expectations. I think you're doing the same."

"No, I'm good at what I do, and I know it, unlike you. I simply have to find another station that needs a dynamite producer."

"You don't even like being a producer."

"I like it well enough."

"Why don't you do something wild for once in your life and send out those documentaries you love making?"

"An independent filmmaker does not make a steady living."

"Will the real Logan Kilgarven please step forward."

Logan raised a brow. "Care to explain that remark?"

"I'm on to you, Kilgarven. You've only been pretending to be a briefcase. You're hiding the real Logan Kilgarven beneath a camouflage suit of pinstripes. You date the women 'the suit' should, you do a job 'the bad boy' hates."

"I'm doing what I have to do to raise my son right."

"Define right."

"In a calm, stable environment. No upheavals, no cops knocking on the door to arrest a wife-beating drunk, no kid going hungry."

"You didn't steal money, did you? You stole food."

"Either way, I turned my mother into a workaholic. The old man spent every dime on booze, and when I… brought that to her sad and guilt-ridden attention, we left him, and she got a second job. Sometimes a third."

"You're not responsible for every member of your family. Your mother's a big girl."

"I'm responsible for my son, and as his father, I make choices with his best interests in mind."

"Commendable, but did you ever think that if you were happy, Shane would be, too."

"He is happy."

"He won't be when you leave Salem. You are planning to leave, aren't you?"

Melody's voice cracked, and her sorrow sent a shaft of pain straight to Logan's heart. Before he could stop himself, he took her in his arms and kissed her, with the same intensity he'd kissed her when they were making 1—

"No!" He stepped away, took a steadying breath. He didn't need her. "I need to do what's best for my son," he said. As to whether his son's father loved Melody, it didn't matter. No promises, no future. She'd set the rules, and he'd agreed. "I have a lead on a job," he said to ground them both. "Max made a few calls while I was with him."

"Where?"

"Chicago, probably. Keep Shane for a couple of days while I fly out for an interview?" He held her while she cried, his throat aching, so dreadfully averse to letting her go, he wondered if she hadn't bewitched him after all.

WHILE Logan was in Chicago, Melody took Shane to a toy train show in a huge heated tent on the cobbled mall. He fell in love with a Blue Streak circus train and a layout with big top tents, animal cages, even a drawbridge. Not a shiny new train, but a beloved, well-played-with set in muted primary colors, with dents and scratches.

The old guy selling it said he had built the layout more than fifty years before. He talked about his sons and grandsons playing with it over the years. Shane asked about the boys and what they liked best about it, and as the old man told his stories, Shane's eyes got to be as bright as his. Shane talked about the boys and their train all the way home.

On the second night, she drove Logan's Volvo to Boston to pick him up at the airport. She could tell by the set of his shoulders, as he cleared the gate, that he and Shane were leaving. After he lifted his son for a hug, he put Shane down, slipped an arm around her waist, and kissed her, thoroughly.

"You got it," Melody said after the bittersweet embrace. "I know a good-bye kiss when I get one."

Logan nodded, and she turned away, so he wouldn't see the sorrow in her eyes.

Glory, she was mad at herself for all this emotion, but she was madder at him for being so godawful stubborn about taking a job he didn't even like… halfway across the country.

THANKSGIVING morning, while Logan went to talk to Jessie, he left Shane and Melody preparing cranberry relish and cornbread stuffing to take to his mother and Chester's for dinner.

Jess's face fell when she answered her door and saw him on her porch. Logan tried not to be hurt that she'd been angry with him for weeks. "Before we get together for dinner later," he said, standing in her foyer like an unwanted guest, "I want to thank you for everything you've done for me and Shane." He gave her the floral arrangement he'd brought.

Jess firmed her spine. "I didn't do anything," she said, taking it. "Melody helped more than I did."

"Don't worry, I'll thank her, too. Those lessons in manners you forced on me finally paid off." His attempt to lighten the mood failed.

Jess shook her head as she walked away. Logan gave a mental shrug and followed her into the dining room. He found her stoically regarding his flowers in the center of her polished mahogany table. "You're mad at me for leaving again, aren't you?"

"For giving up, Logan." When she looked up, he saw that her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "But I'm not mad, I'm… disappointed in you."

"Ouch." Shaken, Logan ran a hand through his hair. "You haven't been disappointed in me for years, Jess. I'm… sincerely sorry to hear it. If it's any consolation, I haven't given up. I'm moving forward. I have to, Jess. It's time."

"Can't you see that you're letting your past destroy your future? You make me so mad!"

"Aha, you are mad at me."

"Yes, damn it, and I have a right. I'm mad at your narrow-minded refusal to accept the flaws in anyone, even in yourself."

"You're the one who taught me not to accept my own flaws."

"Don't lay your stupidity on me. You do know that girl is head over heels in love with you?"

Logan's heart did a ten-point Olympic handstand, an unwarranted one. However Melody felt about him, she didn't want him, and he shouldn't want her. He needed to go, and Mel needed to stay. "Tiffany only loves Tiffany," he said, purposely obtuse.

"Idiot." She rolled her eyes.

"Melody doesn't want commitments. She told me she has all she can do to take care of herself."

"You knew I was talking about Mel!"

"I figured out a long time ago that you and my mother have been playing matchmaker since before I came back to Salem."

Jessie blushed. Another first to add to the swearing and shouting.
A red-letter day
for the judge
.

"If Melody lets you go, then her elevator doesn't go to the top floor any more than yours does."

Logan winced at the analogy, considering how chummy they'd managed to become inside elevators.

Jessie watched him with speculation for a minute. "She doesn't know what she wants any more than you do. I'm betting you love her as much as she loves you."

Logan shook his head, a sign he wouldn't answer, before he walked to the bow window and looked out. Shane's abandoned swing set swayed in the winter wind, dead leaves circling in an eddy of predicted neglect. He regarded the turret, empty of its four-year-old pirate, the landing that led to Mel's welcoming door.