by Judi Fennell
"Angel, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't excuse my ac tions, but I honestly don't know what came over me."
She let go of her hair and gripped the chair in front of her, her tongue sneaking out to lick her bottom lip.
Actually, he did know what had come over him.
But that was no reason to act on it.
"I don't blame you if you want to look for another place to stay, but I want to apologize and assure you"— and himself—"that it won't happen again."
He hoped.
Her mouth fell open. "Wha…what?"
He laughed inwardly. She was going to make him say it. Well, served him right. What moron took advantage of a woman the way he had? You might think it'd been four years instead of four weeks since Joanne.
"That kiss. I was way out of line. I have no idea why I did it—"
She got this look on her face, and Logan realized he was digging a deeper hole for himself. Of course no woman would want to hear that the man who'd just been mauling her—quite pleasantly, there was no de nying the truth in that—didn't know why he'd done it. She was gorgeous; he knew why he was attracted to her. He just didn't know why he'd gone all caveman on her.
"I mean, yes, you're beautiful, but that's no excuse for the way I behaved. I'm very sorry and you have my word that it won't happen again. Please don't leave. Michael really cares about you and he's been through a lot. I'd rather not disappoint him if it can be avoided."
"You think I'm beautiful?"
The funny thing was, she wasn't being coy. Her eyes, those beautiful sparkling tropical-seas eyes, were open and honest and guileless.
"How can you not know that you're gorgeous? Half the men on the street today almost tripped over them selves trying to get a look at you, and the other half were gay."
She blushed. Her cheeks were as pink as her nip—
Way to go, Hardington. Right back to being the lecher…
"Look, Angel. I'm really sorry. It won't happen again. Please stay."
She shook her head, the long blonde tresses that had sparkled in the setting sun with threads of burnished copper and gold coursing through them waved behind her like—
Jesus. What was wrong with him? He was waxing poetic? He must be getting sick. They did say kids were germ factories. Maybe Michael had given him some weird childhood illness.
One that makes you stare at a woman's breasts, at tack her, then turn into Wordsworth? Keats?
"Logan, you don't have to apologize. I mean, I did kiss, that is, it wasn't all one-sided…"
Now she nibbled on her bottom lip, God help him.
"I think it's safe to say that I instigated it, Angel, and I'm sorry. Is there any chance we could move be yond this?"
She licked her lips again. She was trying to kill him. She had to be. No one could be that unconsciously sexy.
"Yes. Let's. I mean, after all, it is Michael's birthday. We don't want to upset him, right?"
He blew out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding and put a palm on his chest where his heart was racing—and only because he'd been worried about hurting Michael with his utter stupidity—not any other reason. "Thank you. So… shall we head back out for cake?"
Angel nodded. "Yes."
If he'd planned it, they wouldn't have arrived at the door at the same time, but whoever Up There was hav ing a good laugh at his expense certainly made it look that way.
He stepped back to allow her to pass, determined to act like a civilized, rational human being. It might be a little late, but he did know how to treat a woman. "After you."
She glanced at him, then tucked another swath of hair behind her ear, and headed toward the door. Logan was damned proud of himself for staying far enough behind her to resist the temptation to touch her as he followed her out.
Then she stopped in the doorway and turned around so quickly that the accomplishment evaporated. It was either touch her or knock her over, and the poor woman had already had enough manhandling from him today.
Luckily, he managed to stay upright, but he did catch hold of her arms to steady himself—not that it was in any way steadying. Especially with her hair now trailing over his arm.
What was wrong with him?
Angel took a few steps back out of the doorway and his grasp, and while, logically, he knew that was a good thing, he still wanted to pull her back.
"I hope that it's all right with you that I gave Michael a notebook and pen for his birthday." She did that damn lip-licking thing again that was beginning to drive him slowly and not so sweetly insane. "Everyone should have a special present on their birthday."
He knew what he'd like for his birthday—Christ. If only she wore perfume, he could attribute this fascina tion to it, but the scent of hibiscus clinging to her skin and the tang of sea-laden air and the gentle breeze off the Florida beach were enough to make a man go weak—
Oh hell. He was back to spouting poetry.
Logan cleared his throat, shook his head, bucked up his resolve and sucked it up—both his wayward thoughts and the sweet scent of Angel.
He yanked the door closed behind him a little harder than was necessary, rattling the panes. Good. Something else could be rattled. He leaned against the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, fully prepared to wait while she resumed her seat at the table on the patio. Then he'd sit as far away from her as possible and maybe— hopefully—get through the rest of this night with his sense of honor—what little was left of it—intact.
"That's fine, Angel, but it wasn't necessary. Having you agree to stay is more than enough of a birthday pres ent." Lord knew, it was more than enough for him. "I mean, when we were out fishing on the boat yesterday, Michael said he wanted a mermaid for his birthday, of all things. If he only knew how I found you, he might even think you're one. Not that I want to tell him that, you understand."
Nor did he want to remember…
"But since a mermaid is out of the question, you, in Michael's eyes, are the next best thing."
***
Angel almost took a tumble. The next best thing?
If he only knew…
Good thing he didn't; he'd definitely want her to leave.
That'd been her biggest fear just now in the kitchen. On the countertop. That he'd somehow figure out she was responsible for him kissing her as if it were their last day on the planet.
But then he'd said she was beautiful.
Siren Song couldn't do that. It couldn't form opin ions for the recipient. It only enhanced the chemi cal attraction—to the point of shutting down his inhibitions, obviously.
What had happened to hers was anybody's guess.
Zeus! Not only was Logan Hardington a fine speci men of a man, but she now knew exactly what that en tailed. Down to every muscle-flexing, belly-quivering, nerve-shivering caress.
What was she going to do? Her study could be com promised by this attraction. If only she'd kept her mouth shut—well, okay, not during the kiss, but—
Wait a minute. Yes, dammit, that's exactly what she meant. If she'd kept her mouth closed all along—at the dinner table, during the kiss, now—her study wouldn't be in jeopardy.
Well, anymore than it was with all her questions…
"I think maybe I better leave." Before she went and did something she shouldn't.
Not regret; just shouldn't.
"Angel, wait—"
"You can't leave! You promised!" Michael's wail overrode whatever Logan was going to say as Michael came running across the flagstone patio. "You said you wouldn't leave me, Angel! You promised!" Michael wrapped his little body around her legs and held on tight.
Oh fish, she'd really messed things up.
"Michael." She tried to pry his arms off, but the child was stronger than he looked, especially being as upset as he was. Were tears salty enough to change her legs back to her tail? "Michael. Urchin, you have to understa—"
"Sport, Angel's not going anywhere."
"Huh?" Michael's bloodshot eyes bli
nked up at Logan.
Angel echoed the "huh?" She really should go somewhere.
"I said she's going to stay. Calm down."
Michael grabbed her legs even tighter. "But she said she was leaving. I heard her."
She should go. Michael was getting too attached to her and, gods knew, she'd been way too attached to his father not ten minutes ago…
Damn. She couldn't even muster the proper regret for that.
Logan tapped the rim of Michael's ever-present hat. "It's your birthday. What kind of party would it be if she left?"
"And she has to stay for ever and ever." Michael buried his nose so far in the folds of her dress that his hat fell off and Angel got another twinge in the vicinity of her heart. Different, but no less powerful, than the twinge she'd felt with Logan.
She put her hands on his shoulders. "Michael, I can't promise forever. No one can. But I'll stay as long as I can, okay?" Another thing she hadn't counted on in her deception—how her actions would affect the child she was introducing to her world in hopes of affecting change in his.
"But you have to stay until I'm all growed up."
Angel looked at Logan. She could use some help here.
"Michael, how about if we take it a week at a time," Logan said. "You start school soon, and Angel's work ing on a big project. She's going to have to go home at some point to present it. She has a family who will miss her, too. I'm sorry, son, but sometimes you can't have everything you want when you want it. Sometimes you just have to be happy with it when you have it. Let's enjoy Angel while we can, okay?"
Enjoy her?
He did not just say that.
From the quick grimace on his face when their eyes met, she knew that he had—and had made the same con nection she did.
No no no. She was here on a mission. The Coalition. Her job. The fate of the planet. Big things. Major things. Things that should be leagues more important than an attraction to an enchanted Human.
Should be. But suddenly weren't.
"I can always come back, Michael." Okay, where had that come from?
Michael sniffled. "Promise?"
Somehow… "Of course I do. The world's not that big a place." Especially when The Oceanic Council had set up magical Travel Chambers throughout the oceans, including one not too far off this coast. And as director of the Coalition she'd have a license to return.
"Okay." Michael swiped a hand under his nose and glanced at his father before looking at her, his face grow ing somber. "Rainbow said everybody needs a family. That's why she sent me to stay with Logan. Does your mom miss you?"
Oh crappie. No wonder he didn't want her to leave.
Angel licked her lips and tried to keep emotion out of her voice. "My mom always misses me when I'm not with her, but I know she loves me and she knows that I love her, so it makes being apart easier. That's why you're lucky to have a dad, too, you know. More people to love you."
She pretended not to see Logan look away. Nor hear him when he cleared his throat. But she didn't look away when he hunkered down to eye level with the little boy.
"It's true, Michael. I'm the lucky one. It was the best day of my life when you showed up."
Michael wiped beneath his nose again then set his cap rim-forward. "Really? You mean I'm not ruining your life?" He even took a step toward Logan.
"No way, sport. Why would you think that? I've al ways wanted to have a son."
"Then why didn't you come find me before? Rainbow said I was a compi… compacation and you don't like compacations."
The color drained from Logan's face. "Rainbow was wrong. She didn't know me very well if she thought I wouldn't want you around."
"So you're not going to make me leave?"
"I'm not going to make anyone leave. Not unless you want to."
Michael smiled then and let out a big sigh. "Oh, good. And Angel can stay, too, right?"
Logan met her eyes. "Yes. Angel can stay. For as long as she wants."
And there was the problem. Angel wasn't sure what she wanted.
She was, however, rather sure she knew who she wanted.
Chapter 12
THE CHOCOLATE CAKE WAS EVERY BIT AS DELICIOUS AS HER father's Olympian Advisor had claimed, and the smile on Michael's face when Logan presented him with a baseball glove—an object Angel had heard about but didn't really see the attraction of—was priceless. As was the ability to work beside Logan cleaning up the dinner.
Priceless? Angel almost dropped a plate at that thought. If her mother could see her now, enjoying chores.
Of course, the chores weren't what she was enjoying.
Something had changed.
Drastically.
Angel rubbed a spot on the plate a little more vigor ously than necessary, forcing her mind back to the rea son she'd stayed aboard ship last night. Well, the reason other than Harry, that is. This was all for the benefit of Merkind and the planet.
And if she kept telling herself that, she might actually remember it.
Then Logan's arm brushed her shoulder, and sud denly the fate of the planet took a backseat to what was happening here and now in the kitchen.
She stacked the plate on top of the others with a heavy chink.
"You okay?" Logan asked, taking the next one out of her hands.
"Um, sure. Why?" She reached for one of the glasses and started to dry it. Such an odd concept, drying things.
Logan set the plate down and leaned a hip against the counter. "Angel, I can't be the only one aware of the elephant in the room."
An elephant? Angel spun around. "There's no elephant."
She hadn't ever heard of anyone keeping an elephant as a pet in this country. India? Africa? Sure. Here? That was a new one.
"You've never heard that expression?" Logan flipped the dish towel over his shoulder.
Oh, Zeus. She'd done it again.
"I, um… well, yeah, but—"
"Angel"—he put his hand on her arm and just as quickly snatched it back—"I don't want things to be awkward between us."
Too late. "Okay."
"Michael will pick up on it."
"I know."
"So…" He picked up the dish again and started dry ing it. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Gods, no. "What's there to talk about? You kissed me; I kissed you; end of story."
It sounded good in theory. In her mind? Not so much.
"Right. End of story. It happened. It won't happen again. Everything's good." He said it as a statement, but his raised eyebrow was asking a question.
Could she let it go?
She had to. What else was she going to do? Sleep with him?
She almost laughed, but that wouldn't be appropriate. Or nice.
Or truthful.
Because the truth was, she was suddenly inordinately curious to see what sex would be like with him.
And not from any study standpoint.
Oh, Hades. She was in trouble—
"Angel, can you read me a bedtime story?" Michael, thank the gods, smiled at her from the doorway, his baseball cap skewed sideways again, just as his smile was again the image of his father's.
Angel tossed the dish towel on the counter. She didn't need to be noticing Logan's smile. Or the lack thereof as he looked at his son—the son who'd asked her, not him, to read a bedtime story.
Angel walked over to the little boy and knelt in front of him. "You know what, Michael? I'm really worn out. How about if your dad reads you one tonight, and I'll do it another night?"
The little boy lost the glow of hope and excitement, and maybe a tear or two worked its way into his eyes, but he didn't argue. "You promise?"
"I promise."
"Okay." He leaned sideways and looked at his father. "Logan? Will you read me a story?"
Angel heard the dish land on the countertop—louder than the one she'd almost dropped—but didn't turn around. She didn't even look up when Logan passed her with a quick squeeze to her shoulder.
"Sure,
sport. Let's brush your teeth first, then we'll get you into bed. Do you know which story you'd like?"
Angel missed Michael's response as they left the kitchen, focusing instead on wiping the tears out of her own eyes.
Michael needed so much love. Logan needed to be the one to provide it.
