breathless, took over the apartment and filled Melody's heart.
After Shane finally caught his breath, Melody turned the circuit breakers back on, one by one, while he told her which room lit up. By the time they had enough light from the other rooms to see the kitchen, the gravy had cooled a bit and Shane fetched bath towels for her to clean up the spill.
Later, because she didn't have a potato masher, Shane tried to smash the boiled potatoes with the back of a big spoon, but during his enthusiastic attempt, the aluminum bowl, potatoes and all, bounced, upside down, into the sink. Shane looked so stricken, Melody twirled him off his chair and danced him around the kitchen. "I'm glad it was you," she sang, until she had him laughing again. "I'm glad it was youuuuuuu."
After an exhausting few hours, they surveyed the meal they had prepared. "What do you think? Awesome?" Melody asked. "Or yuck?"
Shane patted her hand. "It's okay, Mel, don't feel bad. I'll teach you to cook, or Dad can, or he can cook for you. Then you can eat upstairs with us every night."
"That bad, huh?"
His grin was as deadly as his father's, and Melody wondered what old Dad would
say about his son's chivalrous offer.
She was glad Shane had eaten the cookies before supper, though, because it was taking his father longer than they'd planned. They gave up waiting and tried to gnaw their way through the leather the recipe called Beef Burgundy, but that was useless.
She didn't feel like eating dessert, but Shane dug right in… and promptly gagged.
Melody shoved a wad of napkins at him. "Maybe ginger, instead of cinnamon, and cherry pie filling instead of firm green apples, wasn't such a good idea, after all,"
she said.
Shane wiped his mouth, "Yuck!" he said, and giggled. Despite his batter-beating and sore fingertip, and the way dinner had turned out, a spark now lit his eyes, a glint of mischief and life that had been missing before. He'd had a good time playing chef, and she'd had almost as much fun as he had. But the results looked disgusting.
Lord, she'd better get rid of the evidence before Logan returned. If he saw the mess she'd made, he would never—
"Hi, Dad. Me'n Mel had fun. Look! We cooked!"
Chapter Two
MELODY turned on her heel, as every woman's fantasy man seemed to magically appear—jeans, soft and snug in all the right places, hair tousled, sleeves rolled up.
Nothing uptight about dishy Dad tonight.
"Hey, sport," Logan said, hugging Shane against his legs as he cupped the boy's upturned head. "You changed clothes?"
Shane nodded, looking… worried.
"A spill, huh?" Logan said on a chuckle.
Shane relaxed. "Mel's washing my other stuff."
Logan looked up. "That wasn't necessary," he said, assessing her, Melody thought, from her steam-frizzed hair to her gravy-splattered mules.
"No problem."
"Sorry to walk right in," he said. "The door swung open when I knocked."
Gotta get that latch fixed , Melody thought.
Logan rubbed his hands together. "Something smells g—" He focused on the table for the first time and stopped.
Appalled—that was the best word to describe the look on his face as he eyed her not-so-dynamite dinner, Melody thought. Drat. Was he turning a little green around the gills there? "Have you eaten?" she asked. "I can fix you some—"
"God, no."
"Not this," she said. "I've got—"
"No, nothing." He raised a hand so fast, she half expected him to form a cross with his fingers. "Thanks," he said, "but I'm beat. Let's go, Shane."
"Hey," Melody said. "You promised me a job."
"Oh, right. I forgot."
"You forgot!"
Logan chuckled. "I forgot to tell you that there's a secretarial job with your name on it at WHCH TV."
Melody stopped clearing the table and gave him a blank look. "A secretary?"
"A secretary doesn't beat a vampire?"
"We're not playing Old Maid, here. This is my career."
"Wearing a Halloween Costume for thirty days in October does not a career make."
"Thirty-one." Melody dumped a black clump
After Shane finally caught his breath, Melody turned the circuit breakers back on, one by one, while he told her which room lit up. By the time they had enough light from the other rooms to see the kitchen, the gravy had cooled a bit and Shane fetched bath towels for her to clean up the spill.
Later, because she didn't have a potato masher, Shane tried to smash the boiled potatoes with the back of a big spoon, but during his enthusiastic attempt, the aluminum bowl, potatoes and all, bounced, upside down, into the sink. Shane looked so stricken, Melody twirled him off his chair and danced him around the kitchen. "I'm glad it was you," she sang, until she had him laughing again. "I'm glad it was youuuuuuu."
After an exhausting few hours, they surveyed the meal they had prepared. "What do you think? Awesome?" Melody asked. "Or yuck?"
Shane patted her hand. "It's okay, Mel, don't feel bad. I'll teach you to cook, or Dad can, or he can cook for you. Then you can eat upstairs with us every night."
"That bad, huh?"
His grin was as deadly as his father's, and Melody wondered what old Dad would
say about his son's chivalrous offer.
She was glad Shane had eaten the cookies before supper, though, because it was taking his father longer than they'd planned. They gave up waiting and tried to gnaw their way through the leather the recipe called Beef Burgundy, but that was useless.
She didn't feel like eating dessert, but Shane dug right in… and promptly gagged.
Melody shoved a wad of napkins at him. "Maybe ginger, instead of cinnamon, and cherry pie filling instead of firm green apples, wasn't such a good idea, after all,"
she said.
Shane wiped his mouth, "Yuck!" he said, and giggled. Despite his batter-beating and sore fingertip, and the way dinner had turned out, a spark now lit his eyes, a glint of mischief and life that had been missing before. He'd had a good time playing chef, and she'd had almost as much fun as he had. But the results looked disgusting.
Lord, she'd better get rid of the evidence before Logan returned. If he saw the mess she'd made, he would never—
"Hi, Dad. Me'n Mel had fun. Look! We cooked!"
Chapter Two
MELODY turned on her heel, as every woman's fantasy man seemed to magically appear—jeans, soft and snug in all the right places, hair tousled, sleeves rolled up.
Nothing uptight about dishy Dad tonight.
"Hey, sport," Logan said, hugging Shane against his legs as he cupped the boy's upturned head. "You changed clothes?"
Shane nodded, looking… worried.
"A spill, huh?" Logan said on a chuckle.
Shane relaxed. "Mel's washing my other stuff."
Logan looked up. "That wasn't necessary," he said, assessing her, Melody thought, from her steam-frizzed hair to her gravy-splattered mules.
"No problem."
"Sorry to walk right in," he said. "The door swung open when I knocked."
Gotta get that latch fixed , Melody thought.
Logan rubbed his hands together. "Something smells g—" He focused on the table for the first time and stopped.
Appalled—that was the best word to describe the look on his face as he eyed her not-so-dynamite dinner, Melody thought. Drat. Was he turning a little green around the gills there? "Have you eaten?" she asked. "I can fix you some—"
"God, no."
"Not this," she said. "I've got—"
"No, nothing." He raised a hand so fast, she half expected him to form a cross with his fingers. "Thanks," he said, "but I'm beat. Let's go, Shane."
"Hey," Melody said. "You promised me a job."
"Oh, right. I forgot."
"You forgot!"
Logan chuckled. "I forgot to tell you that there's a secretarial job with your name on it at WHCH TV."
Melody stopped clearing the table and gave him a blank look. "A secretary?"
"A secretary doesn't beat a vampire?"
"We're not playing Old Maid, here. This is my career."
"Wearing a Halloween Costume for thirty days in October does not a career make."
"Thirty-one." Melody dumped a black clump
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