“I think you've had enough, lady.” Sam, the bartender was leaning against the bar, giving her a patient, but stern look.
“I'm fine...really. I just want another drink, please.” Melody tried to reach for her glass, but the bartender moved it just out of her reach.
“Sam, right? Your name is Sam. See? If I were drunk, I wouldn't remember your name.” She tried to give him her brightest smile, but he just shook his head.
“Lady, I'm wearing a name tag. So your logic's a bit flawed.”
“I'm a lawyer; I don't need logic,” she mumbled, but Sam had turned away from the bar, taking her glass with him.
“Hey! Come back here...”
“Look, I'm just doing my job...” Sam tossed the words back over his shoulder.
“She's with me...”
Sam turned around, the startled look on his face replaced by an obsequious smile as he recognized the voice. “Oh, yes, Mr. MacKenzie. I’m sorry. I...didn't realize.”
Melody spun around, wobbling slightly on the barstool, looking up at the man who'd spoken.
“I'm not with you...”
“Come on. Let's go find a nice quiet corner and we can talk.” He nodded to the bartender, spoke a few words before taking Melody's elbow. With easy grace he helped her off the barstool and steered her toward a dark corner of the bar, sliding her into a secluded booth.
“And you are?” Melody squinted at the man, pulling her elbow from his grasp. He looked familiar, but the bar was dark and, if she had to admit it, maybe she was just a little bit drunk. His name was on the tip of her tongue, but that's as far as it got.
“Logan MacKenzie. Nice to meet you...Miss…?”
He was looking at her, one eyebrow raised, waiting for her to reply.
Logan MacKenzie. He was the lead singer for the biggest rock-band to come out of Scotland in the past decade. Revolution…No…Revise…Revival! That was it.
“Oh…um…Melody. Melody Lawson.” She stuck her out her hand, feeling ridiculous now that she’d recognized him.
“Nice to meet you, Melody. Please, have a seat.”
Sam appeared, depositing a bottle and two glasses on the table. Logan poured their drinks and he tipped his glass toward Melody.
“A toast then, to making new friends.”
Reluctantly, Melody tapped her glass against his, sloshing a bit of the amber liquid onto the table.
“To new friends.” She took a drink, sputtering briefly. Whatever he’d poured into her glass was dark and complex, heady and aromatic, tasting of vanilla and oranges, and was simply amazing.
“What is this?” She took another sip, rolling the liquid around in her mouth.
“Whisky, specifically Macallan, 1965. It's a favorite of mine; it reminds me of home. I'm happy they had it here. Do you like it?”
Melody sniffed at the glass. “I'm not sure...I don't drink much and certainly not whisky.”
Logan laughed. “It's an acquired taste, but once you get used to it, you'll never want anything besides a single malt Scotch again. And always Macallan, if you can. But then, I may be a bit biased.”
Logan leaned forward, his elbows on the table. Melody felt his eyes resting on her and she was momentarily flustered, dropping her gaze. She resisted the urge to bite her nails, the fall back nervous tick that she'd thought she'd finally outgrown. But beneath the smoldering gaze of Logan MacKenzie, all of Melody's old insecurities quickly resurfaced.
“So why is a pretty woman like you drinking all by yourself in a hotel bar?”
Melody looked at Logan, determined not to spill her entire life’s story, or at least not the sorry chapter she was in the middle of. He was, after all, a rock star and a perfect stranger. But she thought she saw a genuine interest flickering in his eyes, not just the uninterested stare of someone making idle conversation. And that undid the floodgates.
Melody broke into tears, every emotion she'd been holding inside suddenly bubbling to the surface. She dropped her face into her hands, sobbing loudly.
She felt a sudden movement next to her, the leather bench sagging with the added weight, and then Logan had his arm around her shoulder.
“I'm sorry...for whatever I said. I certainly didn't mean to upset you.”
Melody sniffled, groping in her purse for a tissue.
“I'm sorry...it's just been…a really long day.”
“Do you want to talk about it? It might help.”
“Really...no. It's just...” And the tears started again. Logan patted her back and she turned toward him, opening her mouth to speak, but ending up burying her face in his shoulder instead. He held her for a moment, rubbing her back lightly, until she'd recovered her composure.
“It's just...tonight was supposed to be a celebration. I won an important case…I’m a lawyer. And Patrick, my fiancé…” Melody sniffled, wiping her nose. “My ex-fiancé, I guess now…”
She took a deep breath, fishing her cell phone out of her purse. “Here…he broke up with me…” Melody pushed her cell phone toward Logan. “He broke up with me in a text! Can you believe that?” She pulled the phone back, staring angrily at the screen. “Who breaks up with their fiancé that way? What are we, twelve?” Melody jammed the phone back into her purse.
“I’d say he’s a complete idiot, dumping you, regardless of how he did it.” Logan took a sip of his drink. Melody watched his hands, the long fingers, the graceful way he held his glass.
She suddenly became aware of how close to her he was sitting. Her thigh was pressed against his leg, her skirt tugged up a bit, exposing more leg than she usually did. But she didn’t care. She liked the feeling of his muscular frame touching hers, rubbing against her stocking-covered leg. After all, he was a man and she was now a free woman. It didn’t hurt that he was drop-dead gorgeous, all dark eyes and black hair, high cheekbones and a long straight nose.
Plus his voice was pure magic to her ears, the Scots accent evident, the sound deep and rich. She’d heard him on the radio—it was hard not to these days—and his singing voice was somewhere between a rasp and a growl. But when he spoke, it was all velvet over honey, soft and rich.
And his mouth, lips full and sensuous, but still looked incredibly masculine. Melody felt a blush creep up her cheeks and realized she was staring at his lips. Her glass was empty and she pushed it toward Logan. He poured another shot of the delicious whisky into her glass, cocking an eyebrow at her.
“You’re blushing, Melody.” Logan leaned over, running one finger down her cheek. “Most becoming. Is it from the alcohol or…something else?”
She met his eyes, holding his gaze, the Macallan making her brave. “Both…”
When he leaned over and kissed her, she didn’t resist. She kissed him back, tasting the whisky on his lips, felt his tongue tracing along her lower lip. There was a restrained longing in his kiss, a quality she found appealing, oddly in contrast with his almost overwhelming charisma. But then all thoughts left her head and she was overtaken by a more primal need, to take this wherever Logan wanted to go with it, and if he weren’t going to go all the way, then she’d take the lead.
But it became quickly evident that Logan was thinking the same thing that she was. His hand had moved to her leg, gently caressing her skin, fingers sliding beneath the hem of her skirt to the inside of her thigh, tracing along the lacy edge of her stockings.
Melody parted her lips, a small moan escaping her as she deepened their kiss, her hand reaching up to run her fingers through his hair.
Soon they were locked in an embrace, arms gripped tightly around each other, pressed together in the small booth. By the time Logan broke away, she was practically sitting on his lap.
“I have an idea…” Logan didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence before Melody was sliding out of the booth, pulling him by the hand.
She heard him laugh as she felt him pull against her hand. “Wait…”
Looking over her shoulder, she watched him lean back, grabbing the bottle of whisky from the table.
“Never leave the Macallan, even for a beautiful wanton woman.”
They were in each other’s arms before the door to Logan’s room had even closed. Logan pulled her close, still holding the bottle, his lips first finding her neck, moving quickly up the her lips, the kiss passionate and deep the instant his mouth came down on hers. Melody wrapped her arms around Logan’s neck, pulling close, her body pressed against his.
“You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you?” Logan walked her backwards, reaching down to set the bottle on the side table. With both hands now free, he pulled her tight against him. Melody could feel his arousal, his erection pushing against her stomach. There was an answering thump deep in her belly and a heat flooding through her, competing with the warmth the whisky had ignited earlier.
Logan’s hands were everywhere, running up and down her back, cupping her ass, skating over her br**sts. Melody’s hands were equally busy, working at the buttons of his shirt, pulling back the fabric, her fingers exploring the expanse of his broad chest.
She broke away, looking into his dark eyes, breathing fast.
“Take me to bed, Logan. Now.”
With easy strength he scooped her up, walking down the short hall to the bedroom of his suite. He laid her gently on the bed, straightening to look down at her as he undid the last buttons of his shirt. She saw heat and lust in his eyes, mirroring what she felt at the moment. Those were the only things she wanted to feel at the moment; she wanted no other thoughts or feelings, nothing to remind her of Patrick. And this handsome man, this gorgeous Scotsman was just what she needed.
For a brief moment she wondered what she was doing here, but the Macallan was working through her veins, everything taking on a surreal quality. She felt excitement fluttering alongside arousal, the same sensation she got just before heading in to court, knowing she was ready, she was on top of her game, looking forward to winning.
Melody lay on her back, looking up at Logan, taking in the sharp angles of his cheek and nose, the full lips, the hair curling around his shoulders. He undid the snap and zipper of his jeans, sliding them down his narrow hips, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he was nak*d, looking down at her with all the confidence of a man who is used to performing, with a charisma that almost took her breath away.
Logan climbed onto the bed, leaning down to kiss Melody. His hands were sliding over the silk of her dress, his fingers caressing her br**sts. Suddenly her dress was confining; she wanted to be just as nak*d as Logan, to feel his body next to hers, skin to skin.
She rose to her knees, tugging her dress up by the hem. Logan smiled at her, taking the hem and pulling the dress over her head.
As soon as the garment was on the floor, he pushed her back onto the bed, looking down on her on the bed.
“Ah…garters and stockings. My favorite. No one wears these anymore…” Logan’s fingers were moving over her body, fingering the satin garter belt and sheer stockings, sliding briefly between her legs, caressing the inside of her thigh, moving further north.
Melody blushed, remembering that she’d worn the lingerie for Patrick, sans panties, of course. But now, instead of being embarrassed at being almost nak*d with an almost stranger, she was suddenly emboldened, arching her back as Logan stroked her softly, slowly, his fingers moving over the tender skin of her inner thigh, lightly brushing higher, setting off waves of heat in her body.