Bedeviled Angel (36 page)

He turned in time to see Jess give her table a mean swipe, as if to eradicate a nonexistent dust fleck. "Bah, the two of you are the only ones who don't see it."

"I won't even ask who else does. Jess, what I want doesn't matter. When I stole from that convenience store, you said I had been thinking only of myself, remember?"

Jess nodded, giving him her full attention, with less ire and more respect.

"You said back then that I needed to consider how my actions and decisions affected other people. Well I've learned to do that. I think of my son now, and only of my son. I put him first, before anyone, even myself."

"He needs a mother," Jessie said.

"He does," Logan agreed.

"So it's the witch thing."

"Not so much anymore."

"WHETHER Melody is a witch or not, is not the issue. She's not the marrying kind—her words. Besides, she's… unpredictable, wacky, as Peabody calls her, a…

loose cannon."

"Fun," Jess said. "She's fun. Shane says she's 'wicked fun.'"

"Maybe," Logan said, knowing it for an understatement. "But until WHCH, Melody Seabright couldn't hold a job for more than a few weeks. The jury's still out on whether
The Kitchen Witch
is a fluke or not."

"The jury's in." Jessie beamed with pride. "It's not a fluke."

Logan smiled as well; he couldn't help himself. "I think you're right. I think she's found her calling. But even so, Melody… plays in traffic. She… sets things on fire."

Especially him; the thought came from nowhere, and everywhere—his heart, his mind, from deep in his soul. Wildfires, she set inside him. Infernos, in his blood.

He shrugged, blocking further thought. "I don't know, Jess. It comes down to the whole stability thing. Shane's barely had a stable moment in his life, and I should be selfish and give him a walking disaster for a mother? I can't do that. He deserves better."

"But what about Melody? Doesn't she deserve—"

"Melody deserves better, too, better than a thief and a failure. She deserves…

everything."

"That's interesting," Jessie said, perking up.

"What is?"

"You just admitted that you want Melody for yourself, but you won't give in to your own needs, because Shane and Melody might need something different."

"I did not. Look, I messed up my own life, I am not going to mess up theirs.

Besides, Mel has a job in Massachusetts, and I have a job in Chicago. That's life.

The situation may be my fault, but facts are facts. Things don't always turn out the way you think they should."

"Just promise me one thing."

Logan gave a half nod as Jess opened her door. "Try to remember that Shane loves Melody as much as you do, and that Melody loves you both. The rest, you and Mel might address together, if you tried."

BEFORE sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner at the Captain Joshua Endicott Mansion, Melody got a chance to see Jessie in her judicial robes for the first time.

In a formal parlor overflowing with fresh holly and red roses, before a claret marble fireplace, Jess performed the marriage ceremony uniting Logan's mother and Melody's father. Before retiring to Thanksgiving dinner, their guests gave the happy couple a standing ovation. Melody had never seen her father look so happy or so proud.

With a hand to her back, Logan propelled her toward the new Mr. and Mrs.

Seabright. She embraced her father, and Logan hugged his mother. Melody and her father parted more quickly, and she envied Logan and his mother's ability to hold on without embarrassment.

"Daddy, you keep close track of this one," Mel said, her heart heavy for so many reasons. "If she wants to go on a trip, you go with her, you hear?"

"Don't worry, Mellie Pie," her father said, patting her hand. "No separate vacations—or anything else—in this family." Her unemotional, brutal-businessman of a father blushed.

"I'm happy for you, Mom," Logan said. "This is everything you deserve, everything I've ever wanted for you. I'm not even jealous anymore that I'm not the one who got you to retire."

Melody and Logan traded parents to congratulate. "Congratulations… 'Mom,'"

Melody said to Phyllis, and burst into tears.

"If I could special-order a daughter," Phyllis said in her ear, "she would be you."

Though she laughed at her own foolishness, while accepting Logan's handkerchief, Melody couldn't seem to stop her tears. Logan and her father stood in awkward discomfort, silently commiserating with each other—their first tentative bonding experience, Melody thought, and her eyes filled again.

Before digging in to their Thanksgiving dinner, each of the twenty guests shared what they were most thankful for, a touching tradition that Melody thoroughly enjoyed. She embraced the big family Thanksgiving with gusto. She'd never had a family—a mother figure, her father—in her life, a job she loved. If Logan and Shane weren't moving to Chicago in the morning, she'd have everything a girl could want.

Despite the blessings for which Logan was grateful—his new job, a new house waiting in Chicago, his mother's marriage and retirement—he worked hard to enjoy the day. He and Shane were leaving Salem. For perhaps the first time, he realized they were also leaving family and friends, people his son loved. They were leaving home.

Brian Westmoreland's presence did not improve the bittersweet feel of the day.

To Logan's shock, Westmoreland had become the new WHCH producer. True, Melody had finally moved into her renovated office, so there would be no sharing, either of office or bathroom space, but they had apparently already become such good friends, Melody had invited him to join them today. What was that about?

She said Westmoreland would have been alone on Thanksgiving, otherwise, but Logan couldn't seem to forget the night the two of them spent together after the ball, even though he knew nothing had happened. Westmoreland did pay a bit more attention to Vickie than he did to Melody, but Logan still wanted to beat the crap out of him, just for the fun of it.

Shane's tears, when he said good-bye to his grandmother that evening, pierced Logan like a knife. Never mind what saying good-bye was doing to him; his son hurt, and there was nothing Logan could do. The newlyweds were leaving on a short trip to Paris for their honeymoon later that night, so they would not be at the airport in the morning, which only made matters worse.

Shane didn't calm down until Logan's mother promised that she and his new grandfather would visit often. Shane nodded, somewhat pacified, and turned to say good-bye to Jessie, who broke down and cried with him, which got Melody and Logan's mother tearing up again.

Logan felt like a creep, a heel, the usual failure, as they made their way to the car.

"I want Melody to ride in the back with me," Shane said on a whine, as he climbed into his car seat. "I want her to come to Chicago with us."

"Shh, it's okay, pup," Melody said, getting in beside him, cupping his head and kissing his temple. "I can't come. You know that.
The Kitchen Witch
belongs in Salem. Chicago isn't the city for me."

Logan started the car, like a freaking chauffer, or an outcast, or the worst father in the world. Talk about screwing up at the highest level. Where the hell had he gone wrong? Shane had barely spoken to him, or laughed at anything, not even Ink or Spot, since Logan told him they were moving.

Tearing Shane away from his friends at day care had damned near finished Logan.

He hadn't struggled with a throat that tight since he'd seen his mother walk into juvie and had to face the fact that he'd broken her heart.

On the drive home, no matter what Melody did or said, Shane's mood deteriorated, so Logan put him right to bed. "I don't want you, I want Melody," were the last words his son spoke as he drifted to sleep.

They'd avoided saying good-bye to Melody, because she was driving them to the airport in the morning. He needed to be on the job Monday. Whether her seeing them off would turn out to be a good or a bad idea remained to be seen.

"Damn it," he said, loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes, as he sat on the sofa and picked up the remote. He didn't want to leave Mel anymore than Shane did.

To turn his mind from missing her, he channel surfed for a bit, but nothing caught his attention.

He wanted to take her to bed. He wanted… one more night of magic. Except that Shane might wake up, which he did all the time, though when he did, he called out, he never got out of bed.

Logan powered off the TV, sat forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face with his hands, listening for the voice of reason, but the need churning inside him was stronger.

No looking back, he and Nikky had said, and he'd had no trouble looking forward that time. But the night he and Melody made love, he hadn't even been able to use the words, because he knew, he knew deep in his soul, that he would never be able to forget.

One more kiss. A minute more with Melody in his arms. Ten minutes. Not in a bed… or on a sofa… somewhere… where he could hear Shane.

Logan hustled down the stairs in his stocking feet, before he could change his mind. As usual, his knock opened her door. "Get this damn lock fixed, tomorrow,"

he snapped.

She looked up in surprise. He'd caught her at the kitchen table hugging a gallon of ice cream, still wearing the long, red velvet jumper and white satin blouse she'd worn to the wedding.

"You've been crying," Logan said, going to stand beside her.

Melody raised her chin. "I have not."

"Your nose is glowing like Rudolph's on Christmas Eve."

"Eating ice cream makes it cold."

Logan fought for possession of the chunky doodle, won the tug-of-war, and opened the container. "Pure as new-fallen snow," he said. "Nary a spoon-print in sight. How long have you been holding it?"

He put it into the freezer, ran his sticky fingers under the water, and turned back to her as he wiped them on a dish towel.

Melody had rolled up her sleeves and was rubbing her red-cold arms. Her sob rose from nowhere.

Logan hauled her into his arms and opened his mouth over hers, his kiss hungry, rushed. "Come on." He took her hand.

"Don't even think about it."

He stopped at the stairs and turned to her. "I'll never stop thinking about it. About you."

He saw the fight go out of her. He'd said the magic words. She would be his, if he asked. He wouldn't ask.

He hauled her to the top of the stairs, sat, and urged her down beside him. "We can hear Shane from here," he said, "while we say our own personal good-byes. I needed… I… just kiss me, damn it."

Her tears salted their kiss, compelled them to avarice, to grasp everything they could.

"Let me hold you, just for a while," Logan said when they came up for air, and they calmed, held on, kissed some more, and took to savoring. "Tell me this is just physical," he said, kissing her sad, puffy eyes, her red nose.

"It's physical," Melody repeated, grazing his jaw with her lips, weaving the hair at his nape between her fingers, which he adored. "It really is. We're oil and water, you and I. Pinstripes and polka dots. Wacky Witch and—"

Logan took her mouth again. He didn't want to hear anymore; he needed another taste.

The taste lasted, and lasted, until… now he wanted to take her to bed.

"You said no commitments," Logan whispered against her lips, as an antidote to his lust. "Because?"

"Stability," Melody said. "Shane needs it, and I don't have it to give. I'd hate it, if I had it, and I'd hate me, if I failed him."

Logan reared back, his face warm. "Who told you? Are you being sarcastic?"

"Sarcastic? What are you talking about? Who told me what?"

"Nothing." Logan found her echo of his sentiments harsh. It made his reasoning seem flawed and somewhat ludicrous, off-kilter, coming as it did from her own lips.

"He does need stability," Logan said, for his own benefit.

"That's what I said. Besides, I'm not the marrying kind any more than my mother was." Melody slipped her hands beneath Logan's shirt. "I've told you that before."

"Right," he said on a groan, following her example, undoing her bra clasp, beneath her blouse, and freeing her breasts into his hands. His touch budded her nipples; his lips ached to do the same.

She whimpered when he took his hands away to undo her blouse, but when she saw what he was doing, she went for his zipper.

"This is crazy," she said. "Someone could open the door, step onto the landing, and look up."

"Or we could fall down the stairs."

She freed him and he groaned. "Get on my lap," he said, helping her. "If we fall, we'll fall together."

"This really is nuts," she said as she straddled him and he slipped inside her, but she ended with a contradictory whimper of satisfaction.

"Nuts… according to the wacky witch of the east." Being inside her felt so damned good, Logan had to fight coming too soon.

"This makes you as wacky as me, pal. What's wrong with us, do you think?

Besides the fact that we seem to have this kinky 'thing' for sex in dangerous places."

"We're… horny?"

"Oh yeah," she said, sliding herself along his length. "But only for each other.

What's up with that?"

"I know," Logan said, glad she'd brought it into the open. "How soon can you come to Chicago?"