by Judi Fennell
Chapter 9
MICHAEL KEPT CHATTERING SO MUCH DURING DINNER THAT Angel hadn't known whether to be relieved she wouldn't have to contribute to the conversation or to worry he'd accidentally blow her cover.
Actually, she'd almost blown it herself. Human food wasn't totally new to her, thanks to the occasional cap sized vessel and the undersea wedding reception her parents had held for her brother Reel and his Human wife, Erica, complete with their favorite Human foods, but burgers hadn't been part of her experience.
She'd almost swooned when she bit into one. The combination of flavors and textures… And of course, the dry bread and condiments that hadn't been watered down… The burger was to die for. The flavors were so different. Stronger. Better.
And the beverages… She'd passed on the milk Logan had insisted Michael drink, but the iced tea was deli cious. Fresh water, too, and even a sip or two of grape wine, so different from the kelp wine Mers had. What an experience for the palate. And the chocolate cake Logan carried out… it almost brought tears to her eyes.
She'd tasted chocolate before on the rare occasion and could smell the cake's sweetness. Charley, her fa ther's advisor, could go on and on about the consistency of cake. She couldn't wait to try it.
"Should we sing?" Logan looked at her.
Sing? He wanted her to sing? Here? In front of his son? Usually when Human males wanted a Mer female to sing, it wasn't appropriate for children.
"You know 'Happy Birthday,' right?"
Ah. Right. She remembered that tune from Human Cultural Basics 101. "Of course I do."
Logan lit the candles on the cake, and Angel tried not to stare at the flames. They fascinated her. While tem peratures in Atlantis were regulated by the heat of molten lava that flowed beneath the sea bed, flames were a for eign concept. She was going to have to experience this fire phenomenon up close while she had the chance.
She leaned forward, catching the hair that swept over her shoulder before it could catch on fire. She didn't want to experience it that closely.
Logan cleared his throat, and when she looked up, he quickly averted his eyes. "Ready?" he asked, his voice deeper than before.
Angel glanced down. The peekaboo hole in her dress gapped forward. That explained the throat-clearing. Thank the gods Logan was such a gentleMer—man. She pressed one hand against the bodice of the dress, tucked the hair behind her ear with the other, and sat back. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Logan cleared his throat.
Angel looked at him.
He looked back.
"Are you guys gonna sing or what? I want cake." Michael hopped up and down in his chair.
Logan cleared his throat again and spun so fast to look at Michael that Angel thought the man might fall out of his chair.
He tapped the rim of Michael's cap. "Ah, sure we are, sport."
He started the song then and Angel quickly caught up. Beneath her melody, he had a very nice voice. Tenor. On key. It could be a bit stronger, but that wouldn't take much work.
His lips formed the words properly—not that she was looking at his lips or anything—but perhaps he could lengthen that "you" note. His technique wouldn't take much tweaking. He breathed at the right moments, not straining to hit the high note, soft when he should be—
She suddenly realized she was singing solo. She stopped, mid-dear Michael.
"What?"
Both males stared at her, Logan with a strange gleam in his eye and Michael with a breathy, "You sing like an angel, Angel."
No, actually, she sang like a…
Siren.
Oh Hades. Her voice. She'd forgotten the effect it had on Humans. Especially adult males. Logan, his pupils almost nonexistent—the classic characteristic of Siren Song enchantment—was clearly under its influence.
"Uh." She cleared her throat and took another sip of that delicious wine. "I, um, that is… I guess I like to sing?" She shrugged her shoulders, going for nonchalant.
Big mistake. With the way her voice was working on Logan, his eyes went right to her breasts.
And wouldn't you know… they reacted. Now she knew what bras were for and was sorry she hadn't worn one, and, whoa, Michael should not be seeing that. She crossed her arms, then rested her elbows in front of her on the table.
"When do we eat it?" She didn't care if it was a stupid question. She raised her voice an octave and went off key, going for a neutral expression to get Logan's mind off her. But if that look he wore was any indication, she'd say those stories she'd heard of Humans dying with smiles on their face after being lured into the depths by Sirens were true.
But what woman wanted a man bewitched by her voice into a conditioned response? Not her. A man should want her for her personality and mind first, then her body. This blind lust her enchanted voice created was just that… blind.
And the lust?
Well, okay, that was real. But only because of the enchantment of her voice.
Uh huh. And he hadn't almost kissed you earlier. Right.
Okay, fine. He wanted her. But she didn't want lust. She wanted love.
With a Human?
No, that's not what she meant. Angel huffed, an noyed that she was arguing with her subconscious while Logan's subconscious, conscience, ego, id, identity, whatever, had apparently gone into lustful hibernation.
"Yo-hoo… Logan… " She waved her hand in front of his face, praying to the gods that her nipples had gone back into hiding.
She glanced down.
No such luck.
And, tracking Logan's gaze, she saw that he'd noticed.
"Logan!" Michael walked around to his father. "What's wrong with him, Angel?" He turned his big, brown eyes to her. The worry in them affected her every bit as much as her voice had affected his father.
First she reminded him of his mother, then she scared the daylights out of him by hypnotizing his father. Some babysitter she was turning out to be. Logan would never let her stay now.
"Nothing, Michael. Your dad will be fine. Let's get him a glass of ice water. That should help."
She hoped.
Because while she had a vested interest in not seeing Logan as a man, he had no similar reason.
And that look in his eyes said he definitely was see ing her as a woman.
***
She was singing.
Harry lifted one side of his head out of the water. Oh yeah, that was Angel. The Dinner-That-Wasn't. And she had her sights set on that Human. Heh—true to form.
Sure, Mers could claim that they'd evolved from earlier times when everyone had the run of the sea, and demand that sharks do the same to qualify for that Representative's seat on The Council he was angling for, but when flipper came to fin, instinct won out.
The best part was, if she played up that angle and lured the Human to the water, the child was sure to fol low, and Harry would get the best of both worlds.
Not only would he be able to capture Angel and ransom her back to The Council—his plan before she'd done the unthinkable and climbed aboard the Human's boat last night—but now he'd have two Humans to savor. Question was, which one should he eat first?
Ah, gluttony. Such a hedonistic pleasure.
But there was a problem. That boat.
Harry tapped the end of his head with his tail fin. That boat was too big for him to take on by himself.
Shit. He was going to need help—much as he hated to admit it. But the prospect of taking her hostage and getting a two-course meal was too much to pass by.
He gave one last look at the beach. Tomorrow night he knew right where she'd be.
He and the boys would be waiting.
Chapter 10
ANGEL COULDN'T GET INTO THE KITCHEN FAST ENOUGH.
Logan's reaction freaked her out. She'd heard about the effect of Siren Song on Human males, but she hadn't expected it to happen like that. Didn't she have to want to mesmerize him with her voice for it to work? And that was definitely the last thing she wanted. Even if her
toes had started tingling—
No. Really. She didn't want him to see her as any thing other than Michael's babysitter.
"Angel, I wanna get some different paper." Michael turned his hat cockeyed on his head. "I'm gonna make more animals after cake."
"Um, sure, honey. Go ahead." Better to leave her alone to putter around the kitchen and try to regain her equilibrium— and she didn't mean because of her legs—than stand there while she was trying to pretend everything was normal.
Everything was not normal.
She grabbed a glass out of the cabinet, then turned on the faucet and ran her fingers beneath the water. Logan wasn't the only one who could use a drink of something cold. What was going on?
Well, she knew what was going on with him, but what had happened to her? Logan's gaze had sent shivers over her skin and ramped up her internal temperature. Oh she knew what it was; she just hadn't expected it. Not with a Human.
She filled the glass and drank most of the water in one swallow, then pressed it against her forehead, will ing the coolness to have an effect. But when the French door opened and Logan strode in, Angel realized that water wasn't going to do the trick after all.
Not with that look in his eyes.
She set the glass down and backed up against the counter. "Logan? What are you doing here? We'll bring your drink out to you."
He didn't say a word.
Not one.
He didn't have to. The look in his eyes answered for him and Angel wasn't so sure she wanted to know what that answer was.
He gave it to her anyway.
In four strides.
That's all it took him.
Four.
Then he slid his fingers in her hair, pressed himself against her, and kissed her.
Really kissed her.
Mind-numbingly seductive, ravishing kisses.
He devoured her mouth, his tongue taking quick ad vantage of her surprise, and swept inside with a thrust so blatant her legs went boneless.
That didn't stop Logan. He slid an arm around her back and lifted her so her backside rested on the lip of the counter, making her the perfect height to return his kisses.
Return his kisses? She must be going craz—
Logan nudged her legs apart and suddenly her breasts were flattened against that hard, sculpted wall of his chest, her legs on either side of him, her swelling core demanding pressure, and Angel's breath disappeared.
Thank the gods Logan chose that moment to nip along her jaw, but Angel still couldn't catch her breath.
Then his tongue swirled in the soft spot beneath her ear, and she decided breathing was highly overrated.
Her head fell back and she reached for his arms to hold herself upright so he could reach… there… that…
Oh, gods… His tongue… it twirled around the shell of her ear, his warm breath sending goose bumps all over her. She wiggled on the counter, trying to close her legs, needing the pressure…
Then he pulled her against him even more, spreading her legs wider, and there was the pressure.
The long, hard length of him hit her at just the right spot. Her fingers curled into his biceps as he slid one hand beneath her backside to draw her closer.
She hadn't thought it was possible to be any closer.
Then she felt his shaft jerk between them and knew that there was, indeed, a way…
Angel opened her eyes.
Oh, gods. What were they doing?
Logan's tongue stroked the soft inside of her bottom lip and Angel knew exactly what they were doing.
Or rather, exactly what she was doing.
She was making out with an enchanted man.
Enchanted… and enchanting.
She tried to pull back. Regain her focus.
Logan was having none of it. With one hand still firmly beneath her backside, his fingers sending all sorts of riotous fires along her nerve endings, the fingers of his other hand opened wide across the back of her neck, his thumb angling her jaw just right so he could kiss her senseless again.
And, oh my, did he.
Angel closed her eyes, her body having given in be fore her mind, but oh, the sensations…
Her fingers curled again on his biceps, tugging him closer—if that was even possible—and her belly quiv ered when his tongue stroked hers. Her legs followed suit when his harshly drawn breath expanded his chest against her sensitized nipples and Angel couldn't stop a groan.
"Angel?"
Michael.
Oh, gods. Michael!
He couldn't see them. Not like this.
Angel squirmed, no longer groaning. No longer tug ging on Logan. "Logan!" she whispered the moment his lips freed hers to once again trail over her jaw. "Logan, you have to stop! Wake up!" or whatever it was called.
Logan was a man on a mission. And that mission was the cord in her neck. His lips traced down it, soft, flut tery, just like her nerve endings, and if not for Michael's stomping on the steps, she might have gone with the sensations to see where they led.
But Michael Could. Not. See.
And just as importantly, she Should. Not. Do.
This time she put some oomph behind her actions and managed to separate them.
Logan looked at her with hooded eyes that were hot ter than any fire, his chest rising and falling in a way her breasts were aching to feel. He reached out to caress her jaw and, for a second, Angel let him.
But when he took a step closer, she backed away.
This was all her fault and she was not going to damage a child's psyche because of her super-charged hormones, nor any hot, sexy, yield-to-me look in Logan's eyes.
She closed her legs—pressure at last—and managed to skirt around him off the counter before he could pin her there again.
She grabbed the glass by the sink and, having no clue what else to do because no one had ever discussed how to end a Siren's enchantment, tossed the rest of the water in Logan's face.
"What the hell?" Logan shook his head, water drop lets flinging everywhere, but at least it did the trick.
She tossed him a towel just as Michael entered the room.
"I got colored paper this time," the little boy said, holding up the aforementioned paper. "Want to help me make a bunch of parrots? They're my favorite."
"Sure, honey." She made the show of adjusting Michael's hat on his head, but her main purpose was to prevent him from asking why Logan was all wet. She steered him toward the door. "Why don't you go set up on the table? Your dad and I will be right out. No peek ing at your presents, though."
Michael smiled at her—a smile so like his father's that it took her breath away. "Oh, okay."
She waited until he was out the door before turning back to look at Logan—something she both wanted to do and dreaded doing.
How in Hades was she going to explain this?
Chapter 11
SHE HAD THE BEST BREASTS HE'D SEEN IN A LONG TIME.
Logan jerked his head. What was wrong with him? Ogling Angel's breasts? He should be shot. And as for pinning her up against the cabinets and mauling her, he ought to be drawn and quartered.
He wiped his face with the towel she'd mercifully tossed him and gave half a thought to gouging out his eyes. He'd never leered at a woman before, much less attacked one. She was a guest in his home. Michael's babysitter. Could he be a bigger cad?
He slumped against the counter and reached for the glass. Christ. Something had hit him like a tidal wave. There hadn't been a subtle thing about the staring he'd done. At her breasts, no less. The poor woman was look ing at him as if he'd suggested he tie her to the bedposts. He couldn't blame her.
In another life, that idea would have a lot to com mend it.
He shook his head. Something weird had come over him. Exhaustion maybe. The shock of finding Michael on his doorstep finally catching up with him? A naked goddess on his boat who sang like an angel and looked like a temptress? Who, at this very moment, might be wearing red lingerie beneath her dress
? Hell, it was any body's guess.
He took a swig of the water. Or rather, he tried to.
Nothing left.
That'd be because he was wearing it—and he didn't blame her in the least.
She started to fiddle with a few strands of hair. "Logan…"
