Sweat formed on his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and shifted on the sofa.
Melissa watched Logan out of the corner of her eye. Why had she picked up this book tonight? “‘Julian slipped the blouse from Belinda’s shoulders. Her bare breasts gleamed like polished globes of golden skin. “Take me,” she whispered. “Take me hard.””’
Melissa coughed and set the book down. “I need to get a glass of water.”
“Fine.”
She walked into the kitchen. Was it her imagination or had Logan’s voice sounded slightly strangled. She groaned softly and leaned her head against the refrigerator. He was probably embarrassed, thinking this was her way of trying to entice him. After all she’d told him about her past, he’d feel sorry for her and…
The scenario was too awful to contemplate. She filled a glass with ice, then added water. Maybe she could just skip ahead a couple of pages in the book and hope it returned to the mystery. Another paragraph of Julian and Belinda kissing and touching and she would be tempted to rip her clothes off and beg Logan to take her. Already she could feel the liquid warmth settling against her private places. Taut nipples rubbed exquisitely in her bra. Why couldn’t she be more like Fiona and less like herself?
She held the cold glass against her forehead for a second, then turned back into the living room. “Where were we? Oh, dear. I’ve lost my place.” She flipped ahead one page, then two. “This looks like it. ‘The body hadn’t been dead more than an hour…”’
The air conditioner clicked on, but the cool air wasn’t helping. Melissa rolled over on the bed, then flung off the sheet. She was hot and tired and cranky, and sleep was about the furthest thing from her mind.
Erotic pictures, fueled by the book, filled her brain. Only instead of the sensuous Belinda and ever-intelligent Julian, the characters in her X-rated drama were Logan and herself. Half-formed images of embraces mingled with the real memory of their kiss. With each breath, his scent haunted; with each heartbeat, his voice echoed.
Sighing in frustration, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Maybe there was still a little wine left. A glass might help her relax enough to sleep. And if that didn’t work, there was always the old cliché of a cold shower.
After slipping on a robe, Melissa tiptoed down the hall and into the kitchen. The bottle contained about an inch of ruby liquid. It would have to do.
She sipped delicately, then drank down a long swallow. The tartness made her cough, but a relaxing warmth flared in her belly.
Soft moonlight shone through the kitchen window and highlighted the blooming garden. The temptation to walk into Logan’s room and slip into his bed was strong. But it was only a fantasy. The look of horror on his face would be more than she could stand. Besides, she wasn’t interested in just one night of pleasure. She wanted a lifetime.
Finishing the glass, she smiled. Although one really incredible night wouldn’t be a bad trade. She went through the living room on her way to the hall. A sound outside caught her attention. The French door was open and someone was in the pool.
The swimmer moved with powerful strokes, cutting easily through the water. When he reached the far end, he turned and swam back.
She ducked behind the drapes and continued to watch. Despite the darkness of the night, she recognized those shoulders, the proud shape of the masculine head.
It would be so easy to join him, she thought. To drop her nightgown and robe on the ground and slip into the gently lapping water.
Logan stood up in the shallow end. The moonlight reflected off his naked body. Melissa drew in a breath as she admired the perfectly sculpted back and waist. His buttocks were firm and rounded with an indentation on each side. She took a step toward the patio. He leaned his head back to stare at the moon, then dove into the water and began to swim again.
Back in her room, she lay awake and listened for the sound of his return. Footsteps passed outside her door without ever pausing…not even for a second.
Chapter Six
“The doctor says I’m as good as new,” Logan said as he walked out of the examining room.
Melissa looked skeptical. “Uh-huh. You expect me to believe that from you? Mr. I-don’t-need-to-follow-the-doctor’s-orders-because-I’m-such-a-swell-guy.” She set the magazine on the coffee table in front of the couch and stood up. “I want to verify this with him myself, if you don’t mind.”
He grinned. “I love it when you act tough. Here.” He opened the door to the examining room and ushered her inside. “I asked the doctor to speak to you directly.”
By the time Melissa had been convinced that he was allowed to resume all normal activities, it was close to lunch. On their way to the elevator, she dug the car keys out of her purse, but he snatched them away.
“My turn to drive. I couldn’t bear to listen to you pop the clutch one more time.”
She glared up at him. “I warned you I hadn’t driven a stick shift more than a couple of times. You were the one who insisted we bring that…that…”
“Yes?”
“Sports car!”
“You’re talking about the love of my life. She’s fast, responsive, beautiful. What more could a man want…from a car, of course.”
Dark lashes fluttered at him. “Of course,” she murmured. “Whatever else could you be talking about?” The elevator arrived and the doors swooshed open.
The square space was already half-filled with workers heading for lunch. Logan followed Melissa on, then slipped behind her. They both faced front. Various colognes and perfumes mingled in the air, but he easily identified her spicy-sweet scent.
The top of her head came to his chin. They stood less than three inches apart. When the elevator stopped at the next floor and several more people squeezed on, she was forced to move closer to him. He rested one arm around her waist and pulled her nearer. She was soft. Curves fitted perfectly against the hard planes of his chest and thighs.
“I hate crowded elevators, don’t you?” He grinned but was careful to keep his voice serious.
“Y-yes.”
He could feel her heart racing, as though she were running a marathon. Her left breast rested a scant inch above his hand, and he fought the urge to move up and search the generous curve. If only…
The doors separated and the crowd flowed out into the foyer of the building. Melissa stepped quickly until a respectable distance was between them.
“Are you hungry? We should probably head back to the house. I guess you have a lot of work ready to get started on. So you’re going back to the office in the morning? Boy, you must be excited.” Finally her chattering came to an end.
“Are you done?” he asked as he folded his arms across his chest. “If so, I have a surprise.”
She swallowed. “What kind of a surprise?”
Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her toward the parking lot. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.”
They collected their sandwiches from the deli and headed across the street. A wide expanse of green lawn marked the entrance to the park.
“One of the founding partners of the firm where I work had a hand in designing the playground,” Logan said as they walked along the wooded path.
Melissa laughed. “So we’re worshiping at the shrine of the omnipotent?”
“Something like that.”
They found a quiet corner behind a hedge of juniper bushes. A weeping willow provided lacy shade and gave the illusion of privacy. Several feet away, children played by the pond, trying to convince the wary ducks to partake of their offerings.
Logan flipped open the blanket he’d stored in the trunk and let it settle on the soft grass. “Madam, we have a wonderful table over here with a view of zee grounds.” He bowed elaborately, then plopped down beside her. “I love it here. In college, I used to come all the time and eat lunch or dinner, or just sit by the pond.” He shrugged. “It was, as we used to call it, a cheap date.”
>
Melissa unwrapped the food. “Are you trying to tell me you used to be a starving student?”
“Not starving, maybe just hungry. My parents felt working my way through school would help me build character.”
“And was the plan successful?”
He returned her smile. “I guess if you have to ask, the answer is no.”
She sat crossed-legged on the blanket. Navy slacks clung to her full hips and outlined her thighs. The navy-and-white-patterned T-shirt emphasized the lushness of her breasts. By conventional standards she wasn’t model-thin. But he liked the extra ten or so pounds filling out her frame. God knows he’d had enough skinny women to last him a lifetime. Fiona had dieted religiously and then had resorted to surgery to give her the lean, hungry appearance of a third-world refugee. He’d even had one date with a woman who’d proudly explained that she kept herself lean by eating whatever she wanted and then throwing up afterward. It was a disgusting thought that had led to an early end to their evening.
“Look.”
He glanced up and saw Melissa pointing to a squirrel. The rodent stood on its back legs about two feet away, sniffing inquiringly in their direction.
“Don’t even think of feeding it.”
“But, Logan, he looks hungry. How can you resist those eyes?” She tore off a corner of her sandwich. “Come on, sweetie. Here you go.”
The animal inched closer.
“It probably has rabies,” he said.
“What?” she shrieked.
The squirrel jumped. They both glared at him.
“What did I say?” Logan asked.
She tossed the bit of food to the end of the blanket, and the furry creature grabbed it and ran off. Logan drained his can of soda and reached for another one. “He’ll be back with about twenty of his friends.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” She took a bite of her sandwich.
The sound of a siren roared past, then faded. He stretched out on the blanket. “It’s hard to believe we’re in the middle of the city. I used to bring Wendi to this park, when she was little. We had a small apartment about three streets away. It was close to the office and the studios.”
“Sounds like good times. Do you miss them?”
He glanced at Melissa. Her long lashes swept down to hide her expression, but there was something stilted in her voice. Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees and sparkled on her hair and face.
“You have a speck of mustard right there.” He touched the corner of her mouth.
She wiped the area with her fingers. “Is it gone?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
She leaned back on one elbow. Logan waited, but that appeared to be all she was going to do. Fiona would have run screaming for her mirror and then retired to “repair” her face.
“Sometimes I miss Wendi being little. She’s growing up so fast these days. In another couple of years, I’ll just be the guy standing between her and a good time with her friends.”
“She loves you very much, Logan. Don’t lose sight of that.”
“I know.” He plucked at a blade of grass. “Fiona never wanted to come to the park. She hates places where she can’t control the lighting.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“You’ve seen the picture in Wendi’s room.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes, and a bit of her show.”
He rolled onto his stomach and looked at her. One hand supported her head, the other traced random patterns on the blanket; her eyes were carefully averted. “You don’t strike me as the soap type.”
“I just happened to catch a glimpse…one day.”
“Very diplomatic. I know Wendi watches whenever she can. Did she rope you into joining her?”
“I like Wendi.”
He reached out and patted her hand. “You’re going to be a great mother someday, Melissa VanFleet. Too bad you can’t teach a class, Fiona could use a few lessons.”
“I’m sure she’s very busy with the show and all.”
Why was she defending his ex-wife? he wondered. If the roles were reversed, Fiona wouldn’t even waste a breath on a person who couldn’t further her career.
“It’s not just the soap. Fiona is…different. Something about her beauty draws people to her. Every woman wants to discover her secrets, every man wants to possess her. She’s difficult not to love.” He pushed up into a sitting position. “Wendi is caught up in the glamour and excitement. She’d rather live with her mother, but…” He shrugged.
“Fiona didn’t want her.”
“How did you know?”
“I guessed.” Melissa looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with compassion. “You’re wrong about Wendi. She wants to live with you. Fiona’s like having ice cream, fun for a treat or after dinner, but you wouldn’t want it as a steady diet. Eventually you’d get sick of all the sweetness. Besides…” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…I mean, I didn’t want to insult…”
Color flooded her face. The flush of embarrassment crept up until the part in her hair was red.
He laughed. “You’re right about Fiona. She is hard to take as a steady diet. I should know. Come on.” He stood up and held out his hand. “We should get back before it gets much later. Afternoon traffic in the city is the pits.”
Melissa brushed off her slacks, then gathered up the blanket and put the used papers and napkins into the plastic container by the path. Fiona would have left the trash for someone else to deal with, he thought. But then, she would never have agreed to a picnic in the first place, or listened to a man talk about another woman. It had been a hard lesson, but he’d learned it well: Never believe packaging and never, ever trust a woman.
Melissa sat at the foot of Wendi’s bed and clicked on the TV. Logan was on the phone with his office, and his daughter wasn’t due back for several more hours.
“Don’t torture yourself this way,” she told herself as the containers of cleanser danced and sang their way across the screen. Yet when the show began, she didn’t turn off the set.
“Oh, Roger…whatever will we do?” Fiona’s character asked. Her green leather dress, the exact color of her eyes, clung from breast to thigh. Long, lean arms ended with perfectly tapered fingers. Dark hair swayed against her back with each graceful movement. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” the man whispered, then leaned forward and trailed kisses along Fiona’s shoulder.
Had it been like that with Logan? Melissa wondered. What was it he’d said in the park? Fiona was difficult not to love. Did he still love her? Had she been the one to leave? Did he long for her return?
She turned her head and caught sight of herself in the mirror over the dresser. Plain, insignificant features stared back. She looked away.
“I’ll always love you,” Fiona said as she gazed at the camera lens. The shot tightened until only her face filled the screen. “Nothing will change the way I feel.”
Melissa glanced from the TV to the mirror. Who was she kidding? What hope did one ordinary woman have against all that? It would take more than surgery…it would take a miracle and right now, she was fresh out.
The front door slammed. “I’m back,” Wendi called. “Did you miss me?”
Melissa started the dishwasher and walked into the foyer. Logan was already gathering his daughter into a hug. An overnight case and a shopping bag slumped together where she’d dropped them.
“Were you gone?” he asked as he pulled her close. “I didn’t notice. Did you notice, Melissa?”
“Not me.”
Emotions flooded her heart as she watched the father and daughter hold each other tight. The fierceness of their embrace belied the briefness of their separation.
Wendi stepped back and glanced at Melissa. Her French braid was coming loose. Dark tendrils curled around her ears. Hesitation, shyness, and the need for reassurance chased across the young girl’s face. Melissa held open her arm
s.
The preteen smelled like expensive French perfume and chocolate. She was a bizarre combination of grown woman and little girl, still willing to be molded, yet ready to strike out on her own.
“I’m glad you’re still here,” Wendi murmured.
“Where else would I be?”
She pulled back and shrugged. “Mom said that someone with your skills shouldn’t be wasting her time acting as nursemaid. She says I should be kept busy with piano and dance lessons. She says…”
Melissa shook her head. “It’s my time, Wendi, and I don’t consider it wasted. I want to stay with you.”
“Mom says it was wrong of me to ask you to stay.” Wendi stared at the ground and rubbed the top of her left tennis shoe against the back of her right leg.
Logan tugged on her braid. “Let’s make a deal. Let’s not talk about what your mom says. I hired Melissa, not you. If you want to take dance lessons, we’ll talk about it later, but for now, why don’t you go unpack.”
“Okay.” She picked up her overnight case, then dropped it on the floor and dug into the shopping bag. “Look what I got. It’s a remote phone with a built-in answering machine.”
“You already have a phone,” Logan said stiffly.
“Yeah, but it’s boring. This has automatic redial and I can get messages and everything. Mom says I can use it to screen calls. It’s important that I only talk to the right people.”
The muscle in Logan’s jaw twitched ominously. “The ‘right’ people, Wendi? What does that mean?”
“You know, Dad. The cool kids. It’s important to be popular.”
He glared down at her. “What about finding friends who are loyal and honest? What about getting good grades and learning something in school?”
She shrugged. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that. Young lady, you’d better—”
Melissa touched his arm. “Logan, why don’t I help Wendi unpack? You could discuss this later…when you feel more in control.”
Tender Loving Care Page 9