Free Bedeviled Angel by Annette Blair

"You got a problem with normal, Kil-garven?"
    "No, but I have a problem with the Melody Seabright version. Hell-o-o—" Logan lowered his voice. "He had a bitchin' day at nursery school, remember?"
    Melody grinned. "Gotta love a precocious kid."
    "Oh, I love him. That's the easy part." The fist around Logan's chest eased, though. Shane could be precocious at times. Probably best if they didn't make a case out of this. Otherwise, the kid might use the word just to get a reaction.
    With relief, gratitude, and not a little surprise at the help Mel had been, Logan gave her a wink. "As for precocious, I'd say it takes one to know one."
    "Those are not my genes he's carrying," Melody said, taken off guard by a wash of longing. The thought of a child—with Logan's genes and hers—had actually crossed her mind, a mind obviously taking flight.
    By the edgy look on Logan's face, it seemed entirely possible that he sensed her longing, or thought the same.
    Either way, he seemed no more comfortable with the notion.
    Like both of her parents, she was a loner, and she liked it that way. A child of hers would be in deep trouble. The way things stood, she had no one to screw up but herself when unemployment reared its ugly head. Fantasizing about a child—of hers and Logan's, no less—was nothing but a backasswards step into her Barbie and Ken years, way back when Daddy took care of everything… by paying all the bills…
    and staying far away.
    She might be confused about Logan—likely due to a temporary, if naming, case of lust—but neither he nor Daddy would be taking care of her anytime soon. She could take care of herself, thank you very much. She would prove that to Logan, as well as her father, if she had to.
    Besides, hadn't she decapitated Ken in a fit of temper and lost his head? If that didn't have some kind of deeper meaning, she didn't know what did.
    Logan pulled the car into the driveway, and Melody sighed. Thank God they were home, and not a moment too soon.
    At her door, he halfheartedly invited her for backyard burgers, but she gave him an out, and herself time to come to terms with her odd fantasies, raging hormones, and ticking body clock.
    The minute her door shut behind her, Melody stepped out of her spikes and heaved a sigh heavy with relief. Nothing like the sanctuary of her own apartment. For supper, she chose a meal suited to her mood: cheesecake, chips, and chunky doodle ice cream—the three C's—from the food group "comfortus grantus"—guaranteed to make every problem easier to handle.
    In her living room, she unhooked her bra beneath her melon shell, slipped the straps over her hands, then freed herself from the underwire, via the shell's vee neck.
    Sighing in supreme contentment, for the week of hard work behind her and the weekend ahead, she dropped into a big, cushy, chintz chair, and munched.
    Sometimes, life could be serene.

    From upstairs, she heard the echo of running feet and a warbling Shane-giggle.
    Swift upon its heels came a deep and sexy man-laugh, and Melody went all warm and soft inside. Father and son playing together.
    Shane had stepped as easily into her heart as he had into her kitchen, melting her to her soul. Must be his rusty freckles and mahogany cowlick, not to mention the endearing replica of Logan's half-grin. Yep, she had fallen hard, a surprise for a nonnurturer like her, but she guessed it had been easy enough; he was a great kid, though lost in a lot of ways. When his father left that first night, she'd seen Shane's eyes darting to and fro, as if he were prepared for the worst. She'd recognized the fear he kept hidden, that he'd be left behind for good. She wished she could reassure him, make him feel secure in his father's love, though Logan was doing a pretty good job of that, whether he knew it or not.
    For that reason, among others, Melody feared that if she weren't careful, she might find herself falling for Shane's yuppie-pin-striped dynamite dad as well. And if she