Meltdown Read Online Free PDF

the lights flickered, more insistently. “Look, you can flicker until you’re blue in the transceiver. I don’t care if you think I should take him up on his offer. I’m not changing my mind. After all, I’m only thinking of you.”
    This time the lights blinked in a slow, easily recognizable pattern. Morse code. Three quick blinks.
S
. Four quick blinks.
H
. Two quick blinks.
    “You follow that with a
T
, buster, and it’s no TV for a month. Understand?”
    The steady light indicated he did.
    A
foulmouthed computer. Just what I need
. She turned off the faucet and dried her hands. It wasn’t fair. Scientists ought to be exempt from hormonal urges. And they certainly shouldn’t have to deal with a sweet-talking, coldhearted Casanova, whose voice alone knocked the wind out of her.
    • • •
    Melanie woke early the next morning, grateful to put a night of dreamless sleep between her and her problems. Granted, she was no closer to solving her financial difficulties than yesterday, but in the clear, clean light of morning anything seemed possible. She gave her hair a cursory brush and slipped into an outfit that dated back to her college days: A faded pair of hip-hugger cutoffs and a pink tank top sporting the phrase “I Love It When You Talk BASIC.” Not fashionable, but comfortable. Then she took up her screwdriver and scooted under Einstein’s console to attack a particularly nasty tangle of wiring.
    She’d been working at it about an hour when the doorbell rang. Melanie frowned, annoyed by the interruption. She had more important things to do than listen to some fool salesman try to sell her something she didn’t need. She continued working, figuring he would take the hint and go away.
    He didn’t. A minute later the doorbell rang again.
    Damn, she thought, giving up her hold on the worst of the snarl. She inched herself out and walked toward the living room, none too pleased. She wiped her oil-covered hands on her cutoffs, grasped the knob, and prepared to give the person on the other side of the door a comprehensive lecture on the right to privacy.
    Instead, she stopped dead in her tracks, unable to utter a sound.
    He stood there in a white T-shirt and buff-khaki pants, looking as if he’d just stepped off the deck of a yacht. His windblown hair fell rakishly over one eye, somehow making him look dangerous and irresistible at the same time. He leaned against one of the wooden support posts, as if he hadn’t a worry inthe world, and the sun behind him edged his body with fire.
    “Good morning, Miss Rollins,” Chris said, his voice pouring over her buzzing senses like warm, sweet honey. “Mind if I come in?”

Three
    It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. But it was. Chris Sheffield was on her front porch, smiling down at her with bone-melting intensity. Melanie passed a hand over her eyes, hoping the vision would dissolve like a bad dream. It didn’t. If anything, it became more real.
    “Wh-what are you doing here?”
    He smiled, his careless expression warming her in ways the sun never could. “Well, I just happened to be passing by—”
    “You were not.”
    She saw him shift his weight, the slow, sleek movement causing her heart to skip a beat. Tigers moved that way. Woman-eating tigers.
    “Okay,” he agreed. “I wasn’t. You’re the genius. You tell me why I’m here.”
    “You want to talk about my computer.”
    “Two for two,” Chris said, grinning.
    The sight of his white, even teeth sent a thrilling shiver down her spine. Heat crackled through her like fireworks, making her feel shocked, frightened, and undeniably aroused all at once. She swallowed and concentrated on cold, sober rationality. Chriswas only a man, after all—just flesh and blood, she reasoned.
Just sweet, burning flesh, and hot, pounding blood
—
    “So, can I come in?” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
    In
was the last place Melanie wanted him. She needed to get rid of him, to keep him away from Einstein. And from