by Judi Fennell
"Sure thing, sport." Logan's laughter was as infec tious as his son's.
And the effect of all that love and happiness made Angel late on the upswing. Michael's takeoff and land ing ended up being wobbly, which made Angel stumble over her own feet.
Damned independent action.
She tried to regain her balance, but an exuberant child, new appendages, and the uneven surface con spired against her. Luckily, Logan had quick reflexes and managed to catch her. Again.
Tingles shot through her.
Again.
"You okay?" he asked, his eyes darkening.
Again.
And, this time, it wasn't—as evidenced by his widen ing pupils—due to Siren Song.
"Um…" What was the question? She was trying hard to remember, but the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. More like unraveled her. All her good intentions, all her arguments against feeling this way, all the reasons she shouldn't give one iota of consideration to leaning in and grabbing hold and pulling herself up against him, of wrapping her arms around him and reliving every second of last night and taking it to its ultimate conclusion—
"Angel?" Logan whispered, his fingers letting go of her arm but not moving away. Actually, he stroked her skin with the backs of his fingertips.
And maybe she did move a step closer.
Well why not? What was the big deal? Scientists
were people, too. She could keep her work separate from her private life.
Rod was going to be annoyed with her anyway. And it wasn't as if anyone had to know what she and Logan did. He was willing enough. It'd only take the smallest of movements to be in his arms and—
"Can we get some ice cream? I want Moose Trail this time."
And there was a child present.
Not to mention, a crowd. Plus Logan thought she was Human, was here to care for his son, and had tripped— and not because her legs were new appendages for her. Going into any kind of relationship merited honesty, and she was sure he'd have an issue with her tail.
Then a mynah bird flew above Logan's head, land ing on the fence behind him, and her decision was made for her.
It was Rich, that son-of-a-Mer. Mynahs, and specifi cally this one, were the bane of Mer existence. Of all the birds who could let the catfish out of the net about their ability to speak to Humans, mynahs alone had the utter gall and deviousness to take advantage of Mer fears, always threatening to do it. Rich was the Top Bird in this neck of the woods.
The last thing she needed was for him to get an in kling of the battle going on inside her or to start talking to Logan.
From the way Rich was tilting his glossy black head, she had cause for worry. While rules were rules, Rich flew to his own tune; she didn't need him relating the current series of events to her brother or spilling the shells to Logan.
"I'm, uh, fine, Logan. Thanks." She straightened up,
using Michael's shoulder to steady herself and tried to pull herself out of Logan's grip without making it seem obvious. To him or the bird. Neither needed a clue about her feelings.
Logan's fingers tightened, and a quick scan of her face ended with his gaze lingering on her lips. So she licked them. Why? Oh, maybe because they'd suddenly become as parched as the South Aral Sea.
And they got even more so when Logan sucked in a ragged breath, his eyes narrowing.
He had really nice eyes. Deep and dark and intense. Eyes she could drown in—not that she could drown, but still—
"Logan? Can we? Get ice cream?"
Thank the gods for Michael.
The mynah snorted, which focused her scattered at tention back where it needed to be because she really didn't need the mynah carrying tales to The Council.
One quick swipe of her tongue over her lips—and, yes, she couldn't help a brief smile as Logan's fingers tightened yet again— and Angel forced herself to break eye contact and step away.
"Ice cream sounds good to me." Angel glanced sur reptitiously at Rich, who was shaking his head. That didn't bode well. "But first, why don't we see if we can find the facilities."
"What are fa-cil-i-tees? Are they like manatees?" Michael scrunched up his face.
"The restroom, Michael." Logan indicated an arrow pointing in the direction Rich was also pointing.
"But I'm not tired!" Michael stamped his foot. "I don't want to take a nap. I want ice cream."
Logan leaned down to whisper in his ear, then a smile spread across Michael's face. "Ooooh. Okay. Me, too."
Rich sighed, loud and put-upon, but took off anyway, headed in the direction they were going.
"I'll meet you back here," Angel said, finagling for a few minutes with the bird, waving until they were around the corner.
"What do you want?" she whispered as she skirted the door to the ladies' room and leaned against the stucco building.
"Your sister sent me."
"Mariana wouldn't send a mynah." Least of all the biggest mouth north and south of the Equator. Her sister had promised to keep her plan a secret for as long as possible; this species was not known for keeping any one's secrets. The exact opposite, in fact.
Rich perched his wings on his hips. "Well she did, so live with it. Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?"
"Fine. Just keep your voice down. What is it?"
"She said your brother knows what you've done, but there's been some flare-up in the Middle East. Oil spilling by the bargeful, so the High Councilman is going to have to Travel-Chamber it over there. She gives you a few days for the reprieve and thought you'd want to know."
"Thank the gods for small favors." Oops. Angel cringed. She certainly didn't think the gods had caused an oil spill so she could accomplish her goal. That'd be placing too much importance on her mission from their point of view, and the last thing she wanted was any importance—or focus—put on her trip. Not to mention, any more environmental damage.
"Or you could thank me for delivering the news." Rich tilted his head sideways and nodded at the peanut vendor.
The bird worked for peanuts? It was cheap enough. She bought a small container with the change Michael had given her after he'd bought a soft pretzel—lovely, spongy confection—and poured a handful onto a bench.
Rich just looked at her.
Angel rolled her eyes and set the container there as well.
"Pleasure doin' business with ya," the mynah said.
"I'm all ready for ice cream now." Michael ran over to her, stopping quickly when he saw the bird so close to her. "Cool!"
The mynah lifted his head and, with half a peanut in his beak, mimicked Michael. "Cool!"
Michael then started a list of words, hopping up and down with every response from Rich. But Angel wouldn't put it past the bird to throw something else into the exchange, so she was happy when Logan said, "We should get going, Michael, if you want that ice cream."
The bird winked at her as they left.
Chapter 17
LOGAN COULD PUT THIS DAY ON HIS LIST OF GREAT ONES. Michael had obviously had a wonderful time, and Angel…
The woman was beautiful, knew a hell of a lot about the creatures the park rescued, and Michael obviously adored her.
And, Nadia's prediction notwithstanding, Logan was coming to adore her as well. He honestly couldn't say when he'd enjoyed a day—and a woman—more.
He followed Angel and his son across the parking lot and clicked the remote opener so Michael could climb in the car, wondering if Angel would sit in the back like yesterday, or the front as she'd done on the ride over.
Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder again and he wanted to ask her to sit up front. Right next to him.
Every time she'd done that today, every time her eyes crinkled with laughter or she'd sung with the birds, he'd found himself remembering last night.
"Angel." Her name slipped out before he thought better of it.
She reached the car and looked up at him with those expressive eyes. "Yes?"
"I—"
&n
bsp; She did that thing again with her hair where it draped over her shoulder, dancing along her arm, a curl circling forward into the inside of her elbow. "What is it, Logan?"
It was powerful.
It was intense.
It was potent.
Different than last night, but no less compelling.
He slid his fingers up the path her hair had taken, feeling the velvet smoothness of her skin, hearing the slight catch of her breath that told him he wasn't wrong to do this. Seeing the quick, shallow rise and fall of her breasts that he wasn't feeling any guilt about looking at.
He stepped closer.
Her chin tilted, and she shook her hair again, sending more of the silky tresses sliding over his skin. "Is there something you needed?"
Oh, yeah. There was.
Logan leaned in.
***
Okay, maybe she could have rephrased that. But why, when his gaze was a physical burn on her skin?
He was going to kiss her.
Angel closed her eyes, half afraid she was dreaming this.
Half afraid she wasn't.
Today had been leading up to this. Every shared smile, every look…
And she couldn't blame it on her voice. Not this time.
Logan's hands closed on her arms. Lifted her up just a little. Enough to raise her to her toes. The ones that were beginning to tingle again.
His warm breath fluttered across her face, the scent of him surrounding her, blocking out the sweet smell of the jasmine nearby.
"Angel," she swore she heard him whisper, his lips just a breath from hers. So close she could almost feel them.
And then he stopped.
As if a door had slammed, she felt him pull back from the moment, and she opened her eyes.
His gaze met hers. His hot, intense, searing gaze.
"No," he whispered, and this time she was sure he pulled back.
She tensed. What in the gods' names did he mean by no?
His tongue flicked out to lick his lips and Angel thought she'd melt right there.
"Not like this."
Somewhere deep inside her, she found her voice. "Like this?" Deep, husky, shaky… but definitely hers.
"Here. In broad daylight." He shook his head. "After last night you deserve some finesse, and with Michael here," he nodded to the back seat, "it's not the right time. Or place." His fingers slid up her arms, caressing her shoulders, and Angel lowered herself back onto her feet. Back to the earth. The analogy made her want to cry.
But then Logan tipped her chin up so she could see his eyes. "When I kiss you again, Angel, it's going to be special. The right moment." He wet his lips again, his eyes doing a quick flick over hers. "Perfect."
She was melting again. As if she'd stepped into the ocean and her legs were turning back into a tail, sweeping the support out from under her, and she clung to him.
Perfect? Oh, she could go for perfect. The truth was, right now was pretty damned perfect. But if Logan wanted the moment to be more special, she could wait.
Because he'd said when he kissed her again, not if.
She could do when.
She would do when.
***
The setting sun's rays filtered through the blinds in Logan's office later that evening. When a streak of sunlight landed on the same line-item in the report he'd been looking at for the past half hour, he gave up. Shoving away from the desk, he finally admitted that he couldn't concentrate. On work, that was. Angel, on the other hand…
Yeah, he could concentrate on Angel.
Not that it was hard to do since she and Michael were right outside his office window, tossing a Whiffle ball between them.
All he had to do was look up for a front-row view of the beautiful woman he couldn't stop thinking about. She ran to catch the ball and her pants hugged that perfect ass and her gorgeous hair spilled down her back. Her laugh ter was as warm as the summer sun, her smile as sparkly as the waves, and Logan no longer gave a damn about the prospectus he was supposed to be taking a look at.
First she'd been naked, then he'd kissed her, now she was bending and moving and twirling and running outside his window like a beautiful painting come to life. And her laugh—every tinkling, musical note slid over his skin like scented oil, so heady he felt like a teenager again.
Jeez. He was back to spouting sonnets.
Thankfully, the phone rang.
"Hardington."
"Someone's working late." His best friend. The guy had perfect timing. "Or did the kid paint the garage with a gallon of ice cream? Get his head stuck it the stair rail? Decorate your truck with markers?"
"You'd love that, wouldn't you, Richardson?"
"Hey, then you'd finally get why I had to cancel on you at the last minute for the game. It's not like I wanted to miss box seats. Which, by the way, is why I'm calling. Can you get a babysitter on such short notice? I'd say Beth could watch him, but she took ours to her mother's. I'm lovin' the freedom."
"I can tell. You're enjoying it so much you're looking for someone to spend time with."
The window rattled, and Logan looked up. Talk about spending time with someone: Angel stood there, ready to toss a ball at him, her smile as wide and beautiful as the ocean behind her.
"Hey, come on, Logan. They're fifty-yard line. Can't get any better than that. You telling me you're gonna pass?"
He'd rather make a pass—"Yeah. I am. It's… well, it's a long story. Can't make it."
"Does this have something to do with a woman? There are only two reasons a guy is going to pass up fifty-yard line seats, and you aren't dead."
If she bent over in front of that window one more time, he just might be.
"Look, Drew, I gotta go. Call Randalls. He's always good for a night out."
"All right, but don't give me shit for not asking you. You were first on my list, Lo."
"Appreciate that." Even if he didn't believe it. He, Drew, and four other guys had been friends since the first project that had made them their money and repu tations; someone was always available to catch a game or a bite with.
Angel made a grab for the ball before it hit the ground, but she missed and ended up sprawled on the lawn. He wouldn't mind catching a few nibbles of her leg.
"What about golf this weekend? Are we still on?"
"I'm going to have to get back to you."
Angel climbed to her feet and smoothed her pants over her ass.
"It's a woman."
She certainly was. "I'll call you, Drew."
"Uh huh. Good luck with that."
Logan hung up. He didn't need luck—not when he kept replaying the parking lot near-miss. How she'd closed her eyes and leaned in to him. Any sane man would have taken her up on it, but after the mauling he'd done the night before, his sanity was in question and, hell, they both deserved better.
This time, it'd be perfect. Without Michael and the public venue. He wanted to carry her up the stairs, peel those clothes off that enticing body he knew was under neath, and discover every erogenous zone she had. He wanted to hear her breath catch, see her eyes widen, then cloud with need. He wanted to touch every part of her, wrap her hair around his fists, trail kisses across those breasts that were driving him wild, plunge his tongue into her mouth and take all she…
Logan kneaded the knot at the back of his neck. He was getting ahead of himself. Just because Angel hadn't made him stop didn't mean she'd be willing to take it to the next level.
Of course, he could always do his best to convince her…
Chapter 18
ANGEL CLOSED THE STORYBOOK AND SET IT ON THE NIGHT stand beside the bed. "I had a fun time today, Michael." She handed him his bedraggled, stuffed raccoon.
"Me, too." Michael plunked the animal next to his pillow. "Angel?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you gonna be here tomorrow?" He made a big pretense of arranging the raccoon's paws just right, and his eyes didn't meet hers.
"Of course I will, Michael. I had a
great time today." She almost reached out to tousle his hair but stopped her self. Yes she'd be here, but he was already so attached to her, she shouldn't encourage more. How would he handle it when she did have to go home? "I'll send your dad up, okay?"
