Bedeviled Angel (7 page)

"Gardner doesn't have the
cajones
to fire me, himself, does he?" Melody asked in a small, pathetic voice.

"He doesn't, actually, but I'm not here to fire you, so you can stop feeling sorry for yourself. I should probably fire the crew, though."

Melody raised herself on an elbow. "The crew? Why?"

Logan tried not to show his amusement. "For stuffing a firecracker up your chicken's butt."

One minute she was lying down, the next she was standing over him hauling him to his feet by his necktie. "What did you say?"

"Hey, you're choking me."

"Your crew did what?"

"Mel." Logan pried her hands free and loosened his tie. "They want to be your crew, too. That's why they played the joke on you. They want to be friends."

"Are they insane?"

"Think of this as similar to when a little boy puts a snake inside the desk of the girl he likes."

"You know, I'm glad I wasn't born in this town. You're all kind of spooky."

"Well you'd better go out there and show my fellow spooks that you can take a joke, or life's going to get pretty dull around here." Logan switched on the light, and his heart tripped when he saw that she had been crying. Without a thought, he opened his arms and she stepped in, which he liked, except that he liked it too much, especially the way she folded herself into him, as if he were all the protection she needed. Oh boy. For both their sakes, Logan relaxed his hold and took a half-step back, but Melody followed and clung.

Not good. "You want me to go and make everything better?" he asked, baiting her to let go, half-hoping she'd hold on.

She buried her face in his shirt and nodded.

He raised her chin, so he could see her. "Will the real Melody Seabright come out fighting?"

"Don't." She batted his arm. "I'm… fragile."

As an army tank. "I don't know why you'd think you screwed up, you being such a great cook and all."

With a gasp, her head came up.

"Gotcha!" Logan crowed.

Hands flat on his chest, Melody pushed him away. "Rat!"

"That's my girl. Now go fix those raccoon eyes, and we'll go back to the set. The gang is waiting to welcome you, officially." As she went to do his bidding, Logan looked down at his white shirt, at the splotches of black eye makeup on it, and rolled his eyes.

"I gotta like this, right?" she called from the private bathroom attached to their office. "I mean, I'm not supposed to smack anybody around, am I?"

"We all go through it, Mel." Logan heard the echo of his words and knew he'd opened a bag of tricks better left sealed. Damn.

"What did they do to you?" she called a couple seconds later.

Logan considered a bald-faced lie. In the end, he chose a partial truth. "They locked me in the shower."

Melody came out with a perplexed look on her face and an open lipstick in her hand. "You can't lock a shower."

"No, but you can set up a barrier to keep the door from opening."

"So… what?" she asked, closing the long slender tube and tossing it on her desk.

"Did you spend the night in the shower?"

"A couple of hours." They started down the hall side by side.

"In a shower? Alone? Glory, all you could do in a—" Melody stopped walking.

"Wait a minute. You weren't alone, were you? Guys who'd blow up a chicken wouldn't lock you in a shower alone. How much fun could that be?"

Logan kept going and didn't answer.

Melody followed him toward the set, waiting for him to elaborate, and when he remained suspiciously silent, she almost laughed. "What was her name, Logan?"

Still no answer.

"I'll take that as a memory we don't want to share," she said as she passed him by, making sure he couldn't see her smile.

When she got to the set, half the crew stood milling about, looking as forlorn as if someone had swiped the last beer.

She'd ruined their gag, stolen their laugh track. Now how was she supposed to—

"Hey, I heard there was a chicken down here, needed mouth to mouth."

Nothing.

"Somebody wanna' razz me?" she said. "Go ahead. I can take it." But only silence and long faces greeted her. Logan was right, if she didn't handle this, life on the job would become too boring for words, in which case she might have to cast a few spells for kicks. No wait, spells were good—they could add color and depth to the show, providing she had a crew.

"Listen, guys, I appreciate that you wanted to… um… welcome me to the station and all. I'm flattered. Incredibly. And, okay, the gag was cute, funny even. Poor chicken. Ha ha. But let's get something straight right now. In the future, anybody comes near
me
with a firecracker, I'm out'a here!"

They cracked, broke into laughter. Whew. Melody didn't know what she would have done if they hadn't. Some of them even applauded. She acknowledged the compliment with a theatrical bow, and while she had their attention, she raised her hands for silence. "One last thing. Who'll be my bud and tell me who got locked in the shower with Kilgar-ven during his initiation?"

"That was Nikky from Human Resources," Chuck yelled.

Ah, camaraderie. Nothin' like it. Melody turned to share the moment with Logan, but he was walking away, shaking his head.

"Hey" Tim added. "Don't forget that Logan and Nik didn't come out for nearly two hours, even though we freed 'em in one."

Glory, what'd they do, clock 'em
? "When was that?" Melody asked.

"A few weeks ago, just after Logan started," Woody said.

"Yeah," Tim added. "Nikky's still smiling."

As the chuckling crew returned to cleaning the mess they had caused, Gardner came up behind her and placed his hand a little too firmly on the small of her back.

Melody stepped away.

"They meant well," he said.

"Yeah. They were kind of sweet, I guess."

He checked his watch. "Workday's over. Need a lift?"

"Thanks, anyway, Jag, but I've got stuff to do on the show."

She did have some details to look over, so did Logan, and as much as she wanted to know about the episode with Nikky, Melody kept her mouth shut while they worked at their separate desks in companionable silence for almost an hour.

More than once during that time, she thanked the stars for her luck. With her lemon chicken blown to smithereens, nobody had to taste it. Now she would have more time to practice. She also thought that Logan had been a surprisingly good sport, for a stuffed suit, both with her initiation and his own. Not for a minute could she imagine her father putting up with any of it.

When she shut down her computer and began putting things away, Logan slammed a hand on his desk. "Damn it," he said. "I can't stand the pressure. Grill me and get it over with. You wore me down. Ask me about my initiation. About Nikky.

Go ahead; ask me anything. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Melody chuckled as she stood and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. "Like father like son. Easy marks, the both of you. Remind me not to waste my money on thumbscrews. You didn't even need chocolate chip cookies." She pulled out her purse and shut the drawer. "Thanks anyway, but if I want to know, I'll ask Nikky."

She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Finished Shane's paperwork?" she asked, taking it from his desk and looking it over. "I need to drop it off in day care. Meet you in the garage in ten minutes."

FRIDAY began a lot like the day of Melody's interview. Logan knocked on her ridiculous purple door, again, and Melody wasn't ready, again. This time, however, she told him to come in. When he did, she shoved a huge boxy garment bag into his arms. "Take this to the car, will you? Then come back for that big brocade bag over there, but be careful, because the zipper's busted."

She was bossy, all right, but when she was wearing that red Capri suit, he'd carry
her
, if she told him to, and her garment bag as well. "When did I get demoted to bellhop?" He groused on principle, so she wouldn't take him for granted.

"Blame Gardner," she said. "He wants to see some of the specialized outfits I'll be wearing on the show. You have no idea what a chore it was to gather all the necessary underwear for these things."

"I would have been happy to help. You should have called."

"Let me guess," Melody said. "The Victoria's Secret Catalog is prime reading material in your house."

Logan heaved a sigh, heavy with regret. "Not since Shane moved in."

"Yeah, well, life's a bitch."

Logan left with his arms full and a grin on his face, charmed despite himself. "Hey Shane," he called from the bottom of the stairs. "Step on it."

Wired in anticipation of his first day of day care, Shane played twenty questions all the way to the station. Then the chatterbox gave Logan a stranglehold neck hug and a kiss on his ear before getting out of the car with Melody.

Logan appreciated the silence after that, despite the touch of anxiety he was feeling over his son's new adventure. Though he would be close by, compared to when Shane stayed at Jessie's, Logan knew his son was feeling some anxiety of his own, and Logan wished he could protect him from all of it.

THE minute his dad's car disappeared from sight, Shane bit his lip and looked up at Melody, his fear as clear as the deep blue eyes—his father's eyes—through which he looked to her for support.

Melody wondered what she thought she was doing. Another in a long line of nonmaternal women, she barely remembered her jet-setting female parent who had likened motherhood to a nightmare. But when Shane shivered and swallowed as if his throat had closed, Melody knew her fears were nothing compared to his.

Poor baby; he was waging a battle between bravery and fear, anticipation and dread. She knew exactly how he felt. If he cried, she'd sit right down and cry with him, except that he needed her to be strong. Their hands met mid-reach, and she bent and pulled him into her arms—so tiny, so… in need of protection… and all he had was her, poor thing. "I'm here, buddy."

"I know, Mel."

"Do you know how lucky you are?" she asked. "Day care is wicked cool."

He tried to contain his shiver. "
Wicked
cool?"

"Um hmm." His bravery gave Melody the strength to rise, take his hand, and begin walking him down the hall.

"Eighteen children about your age are waiting to meet you, you lucky boy." She wished her voice wasn't shaking. "You're gonna have a blast while your Dad and I slave away upstairs."

"Where, upstairs?"

"Right above you, two floors up. Mrs. Williams will call if you need me—there's an elevator straight to day care, and I'll be down before you can count to ten."

"I can count fast. Will you be close enough? Dad, too?"

"Promise."

Shane slowed when he saw a little girl kiss her mother good-bye, and he dropped Melody's hand to wrap his arm around her legs. "I don't like getting dropted off."

Melody cupped his little head and felt his shiver run through her. "I don't gotta live here, right?" he asked, looking earnestly up at her.

Melody squeaked and knelt once more, pulling him close. "Of course not. You live with your Dad. Nothing's changed, except Jessie gets to give Boneyard Tours during the day, and you get to play with kids who don't need liniment afterward."

As if on cue, a dozen or so children spilled into a glassed-in playroom. "Look at that," Melody said. "They're having fun already."

Shane took it all in, and when laughter erupted, he nodded and straightened.

"Look, Mel, it's filled with all my new friends that I haven't met yet."

Melody's tears hovered so near, she could taste salt. "Yes, darling, it is. You can meet them as soon as you're ready."

Shane nodded and squared his shoulders. "Okay," he said, raising his chin. "Let's go meet them."

IT wasn't until Logan pulled into his parking space that he realized he'd been left to fetch and carry enough luggage for a European jaunt. He got out of the car swearing. He'd be damned if he'd make two trips just to haul a load of Mel's fluff.

After several aborted attempts, he finally managed to carry everything at one time, aware that his struggle was nothing short of pigheaded.

In the garage elevator, he lost his grip on one of the bags, caught it, and wrestled the damned thing up and under his arm. God help Mel when she got to the office, because he was going to be setting down some rock-solid rules for the future.

When the elevator opened on his floor, Logan heaved a sigh. Almost there.
Just a