Logan tilted his head to the side, studying her. “You want to prove something to them.”
It wasn’t a question, but it was so right on the cur-rency that Angel grabbed it with both hands. “Right. They think I can’t do this, and if not for that damn shark, I could have proved them wrong in a tailfli—in a heartbeat.”All of which was true—if slightly skewed.Logan studied her another moment or two, his eyes narrowing, and Angel refused to remember how they’d darkened when he’d almost kissed her… or, rather, when she’d imagined he’d almost kissed her.Oh, Zeus. Let it go already. If she wanted to be taken seriously in the Mer scientific community, the last thing she needed was to swim down that stream about a Human. With The Council’s, and most of the Mer popu-lation’s, prejudice against all things Human, her obser-vations would be tossed aside as lovesick musings. She pulled her arm from his grasp—and ignored the sudden chill that raced over her skin.“Okay, Angel, I know all about needing to prove yourself. But do you have any qualifications for child care? References?”Oh did she. Sadly, they were all Mer-related. “One of my degrees is in child studies.” Human child studies, to be precise, but she knew better than to make that distinc-tion. “As for references, well, word would get back and that would defeat the purpose of not calling, wouldn’t it? But I do have them.”“One of your degrees? How many do you have?”Angel headed down the length of the dock to where Michael was impatiently waiting for them.“Just three. Child studies, Humanol—um sociology, and biology.”Logan’s long legs caught him up to her quickly. “Hence the field study.”“Correct. Oh, and a minor in basket-weaving.”He stopped and grabbed her arm again, laughing. “Basket-weaving?”“Yes. What’s so funny about that?” This time she didn’t need a reason to yank her arm from his hand. She’d worked damn hard to get her degrees. That course had opened up a world of information about textiles and early Human craftsmanship. “It’s quite fascinating.” She shoved off with the right foot, toes providing momen-tum. Or was it the ball of the foot? Damn, he’d made her forget the biomechanics.“If you find basket-weaving fascinating enough to study it, as well as have the drive to earn all those other degrees, I might have you tutor Michael instead of babysit him.” This time when he caught up to her, he didn’t put a hand on her, thank the gods.“Tutor? I don’t think that would be—”“Relax, Angel. I was only joking. Michael’s looking forward to hitting the books when school starts.”Now it was her turn to stop him. “You hit books?Why?”Logan’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve never heard that expression?”Oh, fish. She really had to watch her step—all of them. She plastered a smile on her face. “Now who’s joking?”“Touché. So, we’ll work out a schedule for your field study and my work. Sound good?”It sounded more than good. It sounded perfect. “Yes. Thank you, Logan. I won’t let you and your wife down.”“My wife?”“Rainbow? Michael’s mother?”Logan rolled those brown eyes. “Rainbow, that is, Christine, is certainly not my wife, and if she hadn’t signed the birth certificate she pinned to Michael’s shirt before she took off, I’d be hard-pressed to call her his mother. Trust me, Angel, letting her down is the least of your worries.”Michael stomped down the steps, his red sneakers flapping loudly on the planks. “Why do grown-ups al-ways walk so slow? Rainbow never wants to hurry.”Logan muttered something about Rainbow being in a hurry to get out of town, but low enough that Michael didn’t hear him.Angel was sorry she had.It was one thing to have to look at him clinically as a Human subject.It was quite another to see him as a man.MICHAEL CHATTED ALL THE WAY OFF THE DOCK AND BACK UPthe steps, with his father patiently responding, discuss-ing anything and everything. Who owned which boat in the marina, why Tony cussed so much when he didn’t think Michael could hear him, what they were going to have for dinner; the little boy never seemed to run out of questions to ask. It was both interesting and beneficial to listen to the two of them.Interesting because Angel had wondered what Human conversations were like beyond Beach-Speak, the only dialogue she’d ever observed in the wild, and benefi¬cial because it gave her something to focus on rather than that near-miss of a kiss and the fact that Logan Hardington was a man.“You can ride in the back with me,” Michael said when they approached the big, black vehicle. “Usually Rocky does, but he stayed home today. Rocky doesn’t like boats.”She’d have to thank Rocky, because she’d always wanted to ride in one of these. The purloined Jet Skis and other small watercra
“Blech.” Michael knocked his hat sideways. “Girl stuff.”“Girls like girl stuff, Michael,” his father said, straight-ening the hat. “Someday you’ll be glad about that.”“Nuh-uh. Girl stuff is yucky.”“Not if you’re a girl.” Angel reached in front of him for the perfect pair of purple shorts, a few shades darker than her amethyst tail, with delicate filigree like lace coral around the edges, then held them against the tops of her legs. “What to do you think of these?”Michael shrugged his shoulders, but Logan turned the most interesting shade of red and walked away without a word. An odd garbled sound, but no word. Was that some Human language she wasn’t familiar with?Michael just giggled. “Logan still doesn’t know you’re a mermaid, does he?”She shook her head. “No. And you have to remember not to say anything.”“I won’t. I promise. I always wanted my very own mermaid. I hope you get your tail back soon. I liked it.” She was going to have to remind him about that word, mermaid
THANK GOD SHE’D SAT IN THE BACK.Logan rushed out of the boutique with the image of Angel’s shapely, toned legs peeking out from beneath the hem of his shirt searing his brain and shooting straight to his groin. Yeah, as if the hardening of her nipples from the store’s air-conditioning and that jumble of hair—not to mention the sexy lingerie she’d held against her body and that kiss they’d almost shared—had nothing to do with his condition.God help him, he couldn’t forget one single detail, and his body’s reaction was making walking damn difficult. He angled away from Michael before adjusting his shorts, not wanting to contemplate what he’d be going through if she’d sat next to him in the SUV, those thighs inches from his—especially after watching them ascend the dock steps, then having her in his arms, almost kissing her… He’d been utterly relieved by Michael’s seating arrangements.And thank God for the store clerk. If he’d had to spend one more minute with Angel holding lingeri
ANGEL WAS GONE.Mariana swam through her sister’s condo, making a mental list of what was missing: the slate tablets of notes Angel kept stacked on the desk in the study, the box of urchin spines she stored next to the Human perfume bottle of octopus ink, that bottle of octopus ink, and the sea-pak from the foyer closet.The shutters were closed on every window, and cloth¬ing was strewn all over the bedroom, the Human shirts Angel had bought at the Salvager’s Market floating atop the furniture in the soft current that wended through downtown Atlantis. This mess wasn’t like Angel. She was a total neat freak about her “treasures,” only getting maniacal like this for one reason.Mariana somersaulted back to the living room. The sea stars were missing. The little colony of colorful echinoderms Angel had recently adopted from Rod’s office usually spent the day wandering around the coral sculpture Mariana had designed for just that purpose.She swam over to the kitchen sink. Yep. The he
ANGEL FELT LIKE A PRINCESS.Okay, so, technically, since her family was royalty, she was a princess. But other than the occasional “my lady,” the title didn’t mean a hill of shells in her world. Here, though… wow.Wendy must have melted that plastic with all these clothes. Angel knew it’d be fun to try on silky item after silky item, then put more on top of those. Swishy dresses, flowing skirts, lightweight pants, colorful tops. They were all so beautiful, like a tropical coral reef on a sunny day. That Humans could create such beautiful products said a lot about them—and gave her hope for the future.And the shoes! Oh, the shoes. The flats came in so many colors, and Wendy had insisted she try on a pair for each outfit. Really, Angel hadn’t needed much convincing. She loved the flamingo-colored sandals the saleswoman had said were the latest style. They were comfortable and looked so very pretty on her new feet. And then, the high heels! All different heights, some thick-heeled, s
Okay, so maybe someone Up There wasn’t on his side after all.Logan opened the door to the ice cream parlor for Angel, leaning back to keep from touching any part of her or that bag.She’d picked out red lingerie.He’d actually given the saleswoman carte blanche— and his credit card—to outfit his son’s new babysitter, and, between the two of them, a woman who was sup-posed to know fashion and another who had as many degrees as he did, they’d come up with red lingerie. It’d be ironically funny if Michael weren’t involved.Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he should have just given her the money, bought her a one-way bus ticket, and told Michael she’d had to go home. He wouldn’t have to worry about what she wore, what her favorite flavor was, how her hair felt on his skin… nor what it’d be like to kiss her.Then Michael grabbed Angel’s hand and tugged her forward, his smile almost bigger than he was, and Logan knew he wasn’t going to ask her to leave. He couldn’t break Mich
“ANGEL, WATCH THIS!” MICHAEL JUMPED OFF THE EDGE OF the pool in Logan’s yard and did a half twist in the air before belly-flopping into the water. That had to hurt. Angel clapped when he surfaced. “Good job! You almost made it all the way around that time.” “I’ll get it. You’ll see.” “I’m sure you will, Michael.” She leaned back on the chaise lounge to watch him practice as he’d been doing since lunch. Logan had disappeared into his study to handle some business, and she and Michael had had an interesting afternoon making paper animals with pages from his notebook, as well as figuring out how to make a peanut butter sandwich. Between the two of them, there’d been enough pea-nut butter on their fingers that they hadn’t needed the sandwich part, but Angel wasn’t willing to pass up her first taste of dry bread. “I’m gonna do a handstand, ’kay, Angel?” “Go ahead.” She hooked the pen on the notebook where she’d jotted her observations and impressions before lunch, then ran her fing
Logan took one look at Angel and changed his mind again; someone Up There was on his side after all. Having her here to take care of Michael while he’d put out those seventeen or so fires on the project was a godsend. Now the lead scientist was back on the job, R&D was on track, all the investors were happy with the results of the latest solar-chip testing, and he could relax and enjoy the rest of Michael’s birthday. Then Angel flipped her hair to the side, a curtain of golden silk flowing over her shoulders and Logan’s re-laxation took a hike. Her hair was gorgeous and he simply could not stop wondering what it’d feel like falling across his chest. Intertwined in his fingers. Caressing his skin— Hell. He had to stop. She was here to help him with Michael and nothing else. If only he wasn’t aware of her all the time. Even with her nose buried in her book, something about Angel just reeled him in. Something called to him. Made him see her as a beautiful woman and not the hired h