by Judi Fennell
THE NEW ANGLE OF THE SUN THROUGH THE WINDOWS WOKE Angel too early the next morning. Unlike this bright, burning hit to her eyelids that jarred her awake in an instant, sunlight arrived differently in Atlantis: filtering through crevasses in the undersea cavern containing the city, bouncing off the golden walls and marble build ings, mixing with the refracted light of glowing magma to seep between her lashes and coax her awake.
The early-morning chirpings of robins outside her window didn't help matters either.
Stretching her legs and flexing her toes, Angel sat up on the bed with a yawn, realizing from the birds' startled looks that she was naked.
Again.
Blushing, Angel searched for the sheets to cover herself but had to settle for a pillow when she saw the twisted pile of bedding on the floor.
Why was she naked? Again?
Slowly, last night came back to her. Coercing coop eration out of Mariana had taken longer than she would have liked. It'd been catch-and-release there for a bit. Her sister was as tenacious as a game fish on a hook. Add in time she'd needed to dry her tail out to legs, and she hadn't gotten a lot of sleep. She'd been so bone tired, she'd hardly been able to crawl into the bed.
Her nudity had nothing to do with that dream she'd
had of Logan covered in seawater and nothing else— well, except her.
Yeah, and she had some dry land in Atlantis to sell, too.
Angel got out of bed. Time to face the day and Logan. Now that the effects of Siren Song had had time to dis sipate, things could be normal between them.
At least, that was the hope.
After a quick shower—not quite the same as a waterfall—Angel donned a set of new undergarments. She made sure to wear a bra this time and chose a pair of white capri pants—made in China, not Capri, which made no sense—a silky, Mediterranean blue, flouncy, half-halter top, and a pair of matching sandals. How much more fun it was to wear a full set of Human clothes than just the tops she normally wore. Maybe she ought to think about pajamas.
Once dressed, Angel headed up the stone path to Logan's lanai where another set of problems awaited her.
Should she go in the house? They hadn't covered this in her job description. What if both Logan and Michael were asleep? What if they weren't? What if this was something any other Human would know and she ex posed herself by making the wrong decision?
"Well? What are you waiting for?" A flamingo raised her head from behind a hedgerow of hibiscus. "The kitchen's just inside and I watched him bring the grocer ies in a couple of days ago. He's got a few packages of prawns in there I wouldn't mind getting a hold of. What say you get me some of those and I'll keep your location a secret from your brother?"
"Ginger?" Great. Just what she needed. The lazi est and most opportunistic flamingo in the Eastern Hemisphere had just glommed onto her case study. And as for Ginger keeping a secret? Notsomuch. "What are you doing here? I thought birds of a feather flocked to gether and all that."
"Those Orlando chicks are too cliquey. Sometimes it's nice to be the only flamingo around." Ginger twirled her black-tipped beak, striking a pose that was ineffec tual on females and downright ridiculous for anyone. Even a flamingo. To add insult to injury, the bird looked down from the back corner of her eyes. "So, what do you say? Prawns for silence?"
Angel tossed a swath of hair over her shoulder—so hard to get used to it hanging against her body instead of floating around her like kelp on a current. "I say that blackmail is a filthy practice, and if you're going to try it, you should first have a clean background. I know what you're doing with Roger, by the way. I think everyone except his mate does."
That took the stuffing out of the bird. Ginger deflated back to normal size and quickly set her plumage to rights. "Fine. You don't have to get snippy about it. I just wanted some prawns. Humans have taken all the good ones around here and I'm not a big fan of fish fry. It gets boring after a while."
"I know all about Human fishing practices, Ginger, among other things. That's why I'm here, and I'd ap preciate if you'd keep quiet so I have the chance to make a difference."
"You don't want your brother to find out, do you?"
"I'd prefer if he didn't, but I'm a grown Mer. I'm allowed to live my life. If he does, I'll deal with it. But until then, I'm going to try to accomplish something."
"Oh? Is that what they're calling it these days?" The flamingo clacked her beak. "I accomplished something just last night."
Angel didn't bother dignifying Ginger's innuendo with an answer. She turned back to the door to decide what to do.
The decision was rendered moot when Michael came running toward her. "Hey!" he said, unlocking the door, Rocky dangling from his hand. His hat slipped backward, but he caught it before it fell off. "You still have legs!"
Angel glanced into the kitchen. Thank the gods Logan wasn't in sight. "I couldn't very well visit you with a tail, could I?"
"Sure you could. We could go swimming." Michael tugged her hand, and she had no choice but to follow him in. "Can you teach me to surf, Angel? I think it'd be cool. Rainbow said I'm too little, but I bet if you helped me, it'd be okay. 'Cause you can swim and all. And I beat Billy in the beststroke at the Y. It was in deep water, too. So? Can we? Go surfing?"
"Let's try something a little less dangerous today, okay, sport?" Logan said what she'd been trying to as he entered, his hair wet from his shower.
There was an image to make a girl's knees weak.
Then she got a good look at his toned legs beneath sand-colored shorts, the way his biceps stretched the sleeves of his navy T-shirt, the sexy way his hair swept against his collar, and realized she was in deep water. A few hours apart hadn't stemmed the tide of attraction she felt.
Thankfully, Michael's elbow bumped her and she refocused as the little guy turned the rim of his cap to the front before facing his father. "So what can we do, Logan?"
"Well, first, why don't we have breakfast before you go running off? You did just get here, you know." Logan pulled out a chair at the breakfast bar and motioned for her to take it without any of the sexy, hooded-eye thing from last night, nor a single hint that their intimate body parts had had a passing acquaintance with each other. Good. The Siren Song had worn off. She could breathe a little easier.
"I know I just got here," Michael replied. "But I didn't want to get in your way. Rainbow said you worked re ally hard to keep this house and I shouldn't make you lose it."
Angel didn't have to look at Logan to know how those words hurt. What mother would say such things to her child? What had Logan ever done to her to make her think that? Anyone could tell the man was thrilled to be a father just by looking at him.
Which she was determined not to do.
Being up close and personal as she'd been last night had been more than enough. Then there was that dream she'd had—
"So, what's for breakfast?" Probably not the best idea to invite herself to eat, but she caught the relief on Logan's face as the conversation changed direction. Then there was the smile he sent her way, and, well, best not to dwell too long on that.
Luckily, the meal wasn't all that different from what she was used to, but she shied away from dunking cereal in milk. She could have watered-down food any time at home, so she opted, instead, for the wonderfully fresh fruit Logan served and her first taste of bacon. Hot and crunchy, it became her newest second favorite thing about the Human world after wet, hot kisses…
Focus, Tritone.
She was trying to. Really trying to.
"So, what do you want to do today?" Logan put the last pan away and flipped the dish towel over his shoulder—and it stayed there.
Angel bit back the sigh. Fabric tended to float all over her condo; it was a real pain in the tail to keep the place neat.
And that was the only reason she was sighing.
"You don't have to work, Logan?" That too-familiar smile lit up Michael's face. "You can come with us?"
Logan lowered a glass of o
range juice from his lips and shook his head. "I was taking off today to find day care for you, remember? Since I don't have to do that anymore, the day is all yours."
"But I thought Angel was going to babysit me."
Logan's shoulders dropped ever so slightly. "Well—"
"I need your dad to show me around, Michael, you know?" Angel jumped in before Michael could hurt his father's feelings any more. "To tell me what you like to eat"—and pray it wasn't difficult to make since, although she might be a whiz with a magma grill and spatula, Human appliances defeated her—"and show me the house. That sort of thing."
"I can tell you what I like to eat. I'm six now, not a baby." Michael crossed his arms and jutted out his chin—and looked exactly like his father again.
"I was including Angel, Michael." Logan crossed
his legs and leaned back against the counter, his T-shirt tightening against his abdomen. "We can all spend the day together. What do you think?"
That got a smile out of the little boy. And the high five to his dad got a smile out of Logan.
And a sigh out of her. Which, thankfully, she man aged to keep very soft.
"Cool! Let's go see the manatees."
"Manatees?" That got her wayward thoughts off things they weren't supposed to be considering anyway. While Angel loved the gentle creatures—especially this coastal contingent who were the ones responsible for discover ing the coup attempt against Rod a few selinos ago—she couldn't risk even one drop of saltwater reaching her legs. Not in front of Logan, and definitely not in public.
"Michael, I think I'd like to steer clear of the ocean for a bit, if you don't mind."
"Actually, Angel…" Logan addressed her directly, and silly her, she couldn't hide the shiver that action sent through her.
Good gods. What was wrong with her? She was a scientist, for gods' sakes. She should have some control over herself.
Yes, she'd proved that so well last night in this very kitchen … "The refuge is on the river," Logan contin ued as if there were no inappropriate thoughts diving through her mind. "The manatees are brought there for rehabilitation before being set free to find their way back to the open sea. We won't be anywhere near the ocean, and there aren't any sharks."
Sharks were the least of her worries now, but a river changed everything. Manatees could swim in both saltwater and freshwater, but freshwater wouldn't make her tail return. "Well then, that sounds like a plan. I'm in."
She would, however, have to make sure the manatees didn't blow her cover. The last thing she needed was them crowding around her and cluing the Humans in that something odd was going on.
Speaking of odd…
A quick flash of pink made her glance out the win dow. Ginger stared back with a pointed swish of her head toward the refrigerator.
"Betcha didn't know sailors thought that manatees were mermaids," Michael whispered loud enough for even Ginger to hear.
A beak-shaking, neck-undulating laugh caused the flamingo to fall off the one leg she'd been standing on.
"You don't say." Angel knocked the rim of Michael's cap down so he wouldn't see her glare out the window. Of course she knew that myth. Mers still laughed them selves silly over that bit of Human ignorance. Nothing against manatees, but when Mers could shift into sleek, graceful, fast-moving dolphins, why-in-the-sea would anyone think they'd choose a meandering sea cow?
"It's true. Logan told me. 'Course he also said mer maids don't exist." Michael broke into peals of laughter and Logan joined in, although obviously not getting the real joke.
Although the real joke was on her.
She could proclaim port and starboard that she was a scientist, that she had an agenda, that she was here for one reason and one reason only, but when Logan smiled like that, she was all woman—staring at a gorgeous man who had held her and kissed her and made her want…
"The sailors had probably been at sea for way too long if they found manatees attractive," Logan said when Michael left to get suntan lotion. "Still, you can't blame them. Who wouldn't want to believe in mermaids?"
"You would?" she asked breathlessly. Could it be that easy? Were Humans ready to accept that Mers existed? Was Logan?
Logan chuckled and lifted a glass of orange juice to his lips. "Well, sure. Who wouldn't? Beautiful, sexy women who whisk men off to deserted islands and make love to them all day? What's not to like about th—"
His eyes met hers and the glass hovered by his mouth, tiny ripples sloshing the juice around.
Was that look generated by Siren Song? Could it last this long? Or was that his honest-to-gods reaction?
Angel licked her lip. Oh yeah. She could see making love on a deserted island, no one around for leagues. The play of the surf and the sand against their skin—
Wait a minute. That's what he thought of her kind? How could he believe that? How could he want that? It made Mers sex objects. Not feeling, thinking people with hopes and dreams and aspirations and—
And she was taking this too seriously. Kitchen esca pades aside, mermaids were obviously still a myth to him. A legend. A fantasy.
Oh to be his fantasy…
Logan cleared his throat and gulped a mouthful of the juice, his eyes suddenly focused on something outside. Angel hoped it wasn't Ginger trying to mime another command about the prawns. That was the last thing Logan needed to see.
Or…
She glanced down.
Okay, those were the last things Logan needed to see. Apparently bras weren't designed to be nipple armor. She'd have to make a note of that. When her hands were steady enough to hold a pen.
"Okay, let's go." Michael, thank the gods, bounded back into the room with all the exuberance and hormonal fog-clearing ability of any child. "I'm ready."
He wasn't the only one.
***
Logan peeled his gaze off the panes in the French door and focused it on the white cabinets over the micro wave. Then at the faded-denim curtain the designer had insisted he needed over the window. At the maroon-and navy, rope-design tile along the top of the backsplash the same designer had insisted on.
It was no use. His eyes wanted to return to Angel. She looked like… He didn't know what she looked like in that outfit. Perfect was the only word that came to mind.
Her long, blonde hair—the soft, silky hair he'd felt trailing over different parts of his anatomy yesterday and wouldn't mind having along other parts of his body—hung to her hips, damp loose waves making him think of nights spent in wild abandon. Her face, with those rarest-of-color eyes, was breathtakingly beautiful. Her smile, so generous and quick, a Cupid's bow of a mouth and the dimple high in her cheek… the woman was utterly stunning.
And he'd had her up against the cabinets, devouring her with his lips and wanting to do the same with the rest of his body.
His gaze dropped to her breasts, round and full be neath her sexy top. He remembered exactly how her nipples had stood out against the dress last night, how they'd felt against his chest, and if he wasn't wrong, he could still seen their outline.
Nothing was designed to drive him to his knees quicker than the sight of her hardened nipples—except maybe it was that lip-licking thing she did. But nor mally he wasn't a breast man. If asked, he would have said the smile and eyes caught his attention first, fol lowed by the rest of a woman's beauty, both inside and out.
He was going to have to amend that when it came to Angel. He honestly couldn't say what it was that drew him to her more. Of course, he hadn't had the benefit of seeing other women he'd dated naked before he'd started dating them—
Logan took a deep breath. It'd been damned hard to exorcise that image of her bare body from his mind last night.
"Are you ready, Logan?"
Michael looked at him with an expectantly hopeful smile.
Oh he was ready, all right, but he was going to fail in the father department if he didn't get his mind and his eyes off Angel.
"Sounds like a plan to me, sport." He tapped th
e rim of Michael's cap, praying he hadn't just agreed to something he'd come to regret. But from the smile on Angel's face and Michael's "Cool!" as he bounced out, it couldn't be that bad.
He couldn't get to the wildlife refuge quick enough. If there was one thing guaranteed to cool his libido, it was the sight of nonmermaid-like, elephantine animals.
***
Harry swung his tail back and forth, lining up his troops a hundred meters offshore. The sun had crept over the horizon, beginning the countdown to sunset.
Angel's time on land was limited.
Harry knew it, and he knew that Angel knew it. And he knew that she knew that he knew it.
