Bedeviled Angel (8 page)

hall and a half to go
, he thought as he trudged on.

"Hey Hansel, where's Gretel?"

Logan was halfway through the partitioned secretarial offices, when the wiseass remark forced him to consider the smiles he'd been getting. He stopped and turned in the direction from which he'd come… and saw the trail he'd left behind. A freaking rainbow of bras, bikinis, stockings, even a pair of G-string bikinis—a treasure trove of man's favorite playthings—littered the floor behind him. "Damn!"

Tim Kaiser stopped at the opposite end of the trail. "Way to call a meeting, man.

Cool. Do we get to keep the crumbs?"

"Shut up and help me pick this up."

Six men dove for the goodies. On second thought—"Don't touch!" Logan shouted.

A cumulative groan rose from the station's male population.

"Tim," Logan snapped. "Come and get this damned garment bag and take it to my office. The rest of you, back to work."

With more than a few wistful looks and a great deal of speculation, his eager helpers drifted away.

Retracing his steps and clearing his trail took Logan an agony of scorching minutes. When he finally bent on his haunches to pick up the last of the crumbs, a man-skewing black lace teddy, the elevator beside him opened and a pair of choice legs, feet encased in red spikes, stepped out and stopped before him, and Logan primed himself for battle.

"You kinky little devil," said the wicked witch of the east, spiking his guns.

Nearby, a gaffer with a death wish chuckled.

"NOT a good time to push, Melody," Logan said as he rose, juggling a brimming tapestry bag and a black merry widow.

She dangled a pale gold bra before him. "I knew you were in trouble when I saw my favorite under-wire sticking out the elevator door in day care."

Logan snatched it from her hand and stuffed it into his breast pocket. "Shane settle in okay? I was worried."

"You weren't alone, but he'd already made a friend by the time I left."

"Have you been crying?"

"Nah."

"You sure he's okay?"

Melody's smiled blossomed. "He's great."

"Thank God." With a relieved sigh, Logan ran a hand through his hair and caught a garter in the nose. Reminded of the spectacle he presented, he swore.

"I
told
you the zipper was busted."

Logan noticed, in his peripheral vision, a curious throng hovering just out of range. To keep them from hearing, he got up close and personal, and his body jumped to attention, aggravating him the more. "Just hustle your sweet little ass down the hall and into the office," he said. "Do not say a word. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200."

"Aye, aye—"

"One more word…"

Mel shut her mouth. Lucky for her, she knew when to fold.

Side by side, they walked, she as sedate as could be, while he carried the large bag of heavy-duty lingerie strategically placed before him.

Both of them nodded and smiled to the people they met along the way… until Melody leaned close. "I gotta tell you, Kilgarven, that bra in your pocket really pops with navy pinstripes, but when you trip over the garter belt dangling from that bag, you're not gonna look half so dignified."

AN hour later, Logan was still fuming. Did Melody simply stumble on trouble, or did she suck adversity up like Super-Magnet? He was beginning to think that he would find her picture next to
loose cannon
in the dictionary.

Man, if the office grapevine didn't spontaneously combust today, it never would.

Half the staff had watched the sexy witch and her erotic assortment turn him into the kinky devil she considered him… horny.

He had never been as humiliated, or stimulated, over anything in his life, and he couldn't seem to release the volcano of frustrated ire boiling inside him. He might have, if he'd been given the satisfaction of strangling Melody after their erotic parade, but the opportunity had not presented itself.

Then again, he could be arrested for what he really wanted to do to her. Logan sighed in self-disgust. Hard to believe that he had come to pride himself on his impeccable reputation as a serious businessman, as a man in control… until Melody Seabright had opened her door and turned him into a ticking time bomb of thundering testosterone.

Time to vent might at least have helped him get over the flaming humiliation, but no, when they got to their office, who did they find but Gardner waiting for them.

Seeing the boss had prompted Logan to snatch the yellow bra from his pocket and shove the male-thrumming wisp into the brocade bag. Then he grabbed the red garter belt Melody had kindly rescued before it tripped him and deposited the bawdy hoard into their bathroom. The Ice Man did not need another meltdown. His libido had already cost the station a fortune in residuals.

God knew, Mel's outfits were turn-on enough; nobody should have to suffer the added discomfort of knowing what she wore beneath them. Her fashion show had long since begun and as if to prove his thoughts, she came out modeling yet another seductive little number for Gardner's lecherous perusal.

Logan's heart sped, his palms sweat. Yes, he was a lecher as well, a frustrated one. He'd seen and touched, even inhaled the perfume on most of the gossamer and lace that caressed every hidden inch of Melody's soft, porcelain skin.

He bit back an oath and shifted in his seat. If he had a modicum of self-respect, he would leave the room, the station, maybe take a job in another country. He might have to sign into a detox center, though, or be locked away for good, to get Melody Seabright out of his simmering blood.

But Logan didn't make a move, not to stand and leave, nor even to turn his head.

He didn't so much as bat an eye, because he didn't want to miss one incredible moment of Melody's scintillating fashion show—no matter the cost to his pride and self-respect, never mind his poor deprived body.

Maybe he was a masochist, sitting here anticipating more of her fascinating torture. He must be sick, letting himself be titillated by the array, imagining the possibilities—like sticking your fingers into a light socket, again and again, just to test the buzz and relive the zap.

He should put some space between them before he was lost for good. So what if his son adored her? So what if she'd solved his day care problem? Shane needed stability and security, neither of which Logan could equate with Melody Seabright.

Look what she did to him. She morphed him—despite his best efforts to remain unaffected—tempted him to disgraceful behavior, and had him coming back for more. One look from her, and he lost his grasp on the staid and practical executive producer he'd worked so hard to become, and became that bad-boy troublemaker from the tenements again.

Man, he hated that. He'd been slapped with too many reminders of his failures over the years. He didn't need any more.

Bad enough his mother insisted on staying in the tenements, though he could now afford to get her something better, like a house or condo of her own. Bad enough he was the one who'd turned her into a workaholic in the first place—stealing from a convenience store at twelve years old, no less—to the point that he couldn't get her to stop working. Now here's Melody with the ability to knock him back on his ass as well.

Logan didn't know which of them was worse, Mel or his mother, but his mother, he had to keep around.

MELODY felt the stab of Logan's penetrating gaze like pins in a voodoo doll. He hadn't so much as blinked at the twenties flapper dress she'd modeled, or the fifties strapless, and they looked awesome.

Big deal, carrying her clothes into the station had caused him embarrassment.

Sure, he was pissed. He had a right. But get over it, already. His anger, she discovered she could handle, but his disinterest bothered her a great deal—more than it should, she supposed. Like she wanted anything to do with another pin-striped tight ass.

Nevertheless, Melody stepped directly in front of Logan and nudged his foot with the toe of her forties platform shoe, until he looked up and "saw" her.

"Tell me what you think of this one," she said, drawing his gaze by rotating her hips close enough for her polka dots to cross his eyes.

No comment. She'd gotten his attention, though. That tick in his cheek was a dead giveaway.

Melody moved a straight chair to the center of the room.

As much to snap him out of his snit as to reveal the surprise at the front of her dress, she raised a foot, placed it on the chair seat, and leaned in. On cue, the dress slid open, front and center, to reveal her bent leg to her thigh, her shoe's three-inch heels and thin ankle straps, adding pure sex to the pose.

Logan paled and swallowed.

And that's what you get for sulking
, Melody thought. "This is a shirtwaist designed by St. Laurent in the seventies," she said, "to reflect the style of the forties.

I think red polka dots on black fits the show perfectly and might work for the pilot.

The unique style sends a subliminal, "Watch me make magic," kind of message."

Gardner rose and walked around her, examining her from every angle. "There's a lot I like about this one, though it doesn't have the same allure as that straight black dress with the foot of beaded fringe at the hem."

"The flapper dress, you mean." Melody turned to Logan, pleased to note that he had not taken his gaze from her. "What do you think?" she asked.

Logan shook off his trance and loosened his tie. "Who knew that polka dots could be so… so—"

"I know," Mel said, unable to stifle her grin. "Kind of snappy, kind of understated. Lively, you know, without being… fluorescent."

Finally, she'd set Logan's smile free, and God what an improvement. He sat forward, in the game again. "I don't expect we'd want all black, or all dresses for that matter," he said, not seeming to expect an answer, but more to clarify his thoughts.

"I don't think uniformity of any kind would fit our flamboyant witch." His wink made Melody feel worlds better. Then he stretched his legs, crossed them at the ankles, and slid his hands into his pockets. "That flapper dress, by the way, would better suit a show where you prepare something formal—say, a New Year's Eve dinner party."

"Excellent," Melody said, surprised and impressed.

"But if we're talking pilot, here," Gardner added. "And market-testing the audience, I don't think we want off-the-wall flash, either, not yet. Give us another turn-around, will you, Mel?"

Melody did two slow turns, and given their twin expressions, she knew that Logan and Gardner had stopped examining her as men but were now regarding her with an eye toward audience appeal and ratings.

"That's the dress," Logan said with the air of a man who's aware he's made a good decision. "For my money, that number is first-show, secure-the-market perfect."

"Agreed," Gardner said looking pleased. "Melody, my little witch, you're a natural. Now all we have to do is find a theme song." He checked his watch. "Listen, I've got a lunch appointment, and I won't be back afterward, but thanks for the fashion show, Mel. You helped me with another idea. See you both on Monday.

Have a great weekend."

"Another idea?" Logan said as he watched Gardner walk down the hall. "He means another fantasy."

"Fantasy?" Melody responded from beside him. "You're talking about his reflection in the mirror, right?"

Logan turned a raised brow her way. "I'm impressed. You already have him pegged." Then he gave himself a symbolic slap upside the head. "What am I talking about? You had him pegged before you met him. How did you know that a stage production interview would work?"

Melody shrugged. "One: I was applying for a stage production. Two: He's a man, so I tried to stimulate his male… thinking."

"You
were
playing up to him, but you got upset when I said so."

"Because you implied that I'd put out to get the job."

Logan winced. "I didn't, but forget I brought it up." He stepped near enough to enslave her with the sexy, spicy scent of him and shook his head. "Let me tell you again how sorry I am for giving you that impression." He seemed so earnest, so…

He made her forget everything except some deep-seated need inside her to touch him, something primitive and almost, but not quite, stronger than her will to resist.

Their eyes met, and held, as if he sensed her struggle. She wished he'd open his hand and cup her cheek, lean in and touch his sculpted lips to hers. She wanted him to give her a reason, any reason, to touch him back.