Catch of a Lifetime (2 page)

   She shifted her feet to balance on the rocking deck as another charter left the dock. "Yes. About four-hundred and-thirty leagues or so."

   
Leagues?
Only if she was swimming, and
that
he'd like to see from the middle of the country.

   "So what are you doing here if you're from Kansas?"

   "Studying."

   "You're a student?" He'd figured her for a little older than college. Maybe she was a grad student.

   And he cared, why?

   She looked back at the ocean. "I'm… doing a field study for the summer."

   Ah, yes. Older. "What field?"

   "Biology. Maritime biology."

   "Don't you mean marine biology?"

   "Yes," she said, licking her lips again. He should probably get her a drink. "Of course. That's what I meant. Marine biology."

   The boat rocked again and the blanket slid to the side, showing off her shapely leg in all its perfection, toes to thigh.

   He should probably get himself a drink. Preferably a stiff one—

   Not going there.

   "So… where are you staying? I'll call you a cab." Anything to get her off this boat.

   "Actually, I just arrived. I don't have a place to stay."

   Logan was about to suggest a local apartment com plex when he heard Michael yell, "Thanks, Tony!" and decided he'd worry about where she was going to stay later. Right now he had a six-year-old he didn't want to have to explain the birds and the bees—or naked women—to, so he yanked his T-shirt over his head and skimmed it over Angel's. Yes, it hung on her like a tent, but at least she was covered.

   Not that it diminished the image burned into his brain, nor the incredibly hot vision of her in his cloth ing and nothing else, with her hair askew and that blush on her cheeks.

   With his faded green T-shirt bringing out the green swirl in her eyes, the woman could be a mermaid come to life.

   "Logan! Look what Tony gave me!" Michael ran down the dock holding up the perfectly filleted car cass of one of Tony's recent catches in one hand and keeping his baseball cap on his head with the other hand. From Michael's abrupt halt and the way his mouth dropped open, Logan knew the moment his son saw Angel.

   Great. How was he going to explain this?

   "Hey, Michael. Why don't you come say hi to Angel?"

   What else was he going to say?
Come meet the
naked student? The kid would be signing up for col
lege tomorrow.

   "But… how? What…?" The fish skeleton hit the dock and fell apart, but Michael didn't seem to notice. His eyes were glued to Angel.

   "Hi… Michael? I'm Angel." Even her voice was beautiful—like a song dancing along the crests of the waves.

   Oh, hell. Where had that fanciful thought come from? Logan never spouted poetry to beautiful women, prefer ring to keep every relationship real and out of the realm of fairy tale, though more than one woman had called him her Prince Charming. Usually right before he broke up with her.

   "Ang… Angel?" Poor tongue-tied Michael. Logan could totally empathize.

   "She's… um… a friend." One he'd just met, who didn't wear clothes and showed up out of nowhere, but the kid was six. It should fly.

   "Your friend?" Okay, perhaps the incredulity in his son's voice indicated a need for more proof.

   "Um… yeah." He focused on Michael. "She's new in town and was using the boat because she doesn't have a place to stay."

   Michael's face perked up and he jumped aboard, adjusting his baseball hat. "Cool! Then she can stay with us, right?" He went right over to her and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Angel. You can be my friend, too."

   That wasn't exactly what Logan had in mind.

   "I'd like that, Michael."

   There was that melodic voice again. Maybe she was

a singer. She certainly had the face to be a celebrity, and enough of them flocked to these beaches every year.

   Meanwhile, his son was literally jumping all over the place. "So, can she, Logan?"

   Can she what? There were a lot of things he wanted her to do—

   "Can she stay with us? She can sleep in my room."

   Logan tried not to laugh. Sleep in Michael's room? Logan didn't think so. If she was going to be sleeping in anyone's room—

   "Michael, I think the guesthouse would be a better idea."

   Angel smiled and Michael started bouncing again. "Cool!"

   Shit. What had he just agreed to?

ANGEL COULDN'T BELIEVE HER GOOD LUCK. SHE'D HIT THE crabpot!

   Then she saw Harry's fin circling off the bow for the eighth time since she'd awoken and amended that. Luck had nothing to do with this; Hammerhead Harry did. And wouldn't it tweak his big ol' blockhead to know he could be helping her right into her dream job?

   Served the shark right. Try to eat her, would he? Keep her stranded on a boat? Ha. Angel couldn't stop her grin. "Thank you very much for your offer, Logan. I'd love to stay."

   "All right!" Michael bounced again—she couldn't wait to try that when she was alone—but his father looked a little green around the gills.

   "Michael, I don't think—" The little black box on Logan's hip started playing music. He glanced at it and exhaled. "I need to take this call. We'll discuss Angel staying with us when I'm done."

   Long legs carried him fluidly off the boat and up the dock, one arm swinging, head held high as he spoke into the box.

   She had studied the way her brother Reel walked hundreds of times. He was the only two-legged Mer in their world, but walking was so different when Logan— Humans—did it. The lack of buoyancy on land made the flexion and extension of the muscles slightly different, requiring the ability to balance between two shifting ap pendages, the heel-toe rhythm, the contractions of his gluteus maximus…

   "What happened to your tail, Angel? Is it going to grow back? Are you gonna stay here forever? Can I tell Logan that you're a mermaid?" Michael bounced beside her, his whisper loud enough to carry on the warm sea breeze.

   Angel guided Michael to a pull-down bench behind the captain's chair, stepping on the lid of the catch box on the deck to make sure it was closed securely. No need for Logan to discover where she'd stowed away last night to escape Harry. Nor that Michael had seen her, helped her, and hid her. All under his father's un suspecting nose.

   She tugged Logan's soft shirt beneath her as she sat. She'd forgotten the nudity part of the transformation. Thank the gods Logan had thought so fast. "My tail will come back if any seawater touches it, so it's very impor tant that doesn't happen around grown-ups, okay?"

   Michael's little chest puffed out as he sat on the cush ion next to her. "I'm the only one who knows about you, aren't I?"

   Angel tapped the rim of his hat. "Yes, you are. And I wasn't even supposed to let you know, so we definitely can't tell Logan."

   "Are you gonna get in trouble?"

   So much it wasn't funny. Unless she could make this situation work to her advantage. "Not if we keep my tail a secret, okay?"

   Yes, Rod, her brother the High Councilman, would be
so
proud of the lies.

Not.

   Truth was, she wasn't either, but what could she do? Harry had been all about getting a Mer meal last night, and she'd been the only one around. So she could either have climbed aboard the fishing boat, or…

   Or nothing. Harry or the boat. There was no other choice.

   "Okay, I won't tell. I can keep a secret. Cross my heart and hope to spit."

   That comment didn't make any more sense now than it had last night when she'd slipped on board just before dark. On the lookout for adult Humans, she hadn't seen the child, but he'd certainly seen her.

   One thing about kids: they were infinitely more ac cepting than their adult counterparts—which was the basis of her plans for the Mer-Human Coalition her brother was forming. Michael had gone with the fact that she was a Mer and understood her need to stay out of sight of adults. He hadn't turned her in then, so she had high hopes he wouldn't do so now.

   Not that she was condoning his lying to his father, but when it came to her life or a child's honesty, she was going with her life.

   Still, The Council could bring charges against her for this.

   If only Hammerhead Harry had kept to the truce agreement with The Council, she could have conducted her research without any detection, let alone face-to-face contact. All she'd been trying to do was monitor Human fishing practices, but the stupid shark just
had
to show up. Then she'd had to unload everything to the bottom of the sea so she could have a chance of outswimming him. There went all her notes, all her tools, and a lot of her self-respect.

   But she now had the perfect opportunity to redeem herself
and
learn enough to earn the position of director of the Coalition she'd wanted in the first place.

   All thanks to Harry—not that she'd ever tell him.

   "I'm sorry I caught you last night, Angel." Michael unwrapped a small pink, rectangular item he'd pulled from his pocket, then shoveled it into his mouth. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

   She stopped herself from rubbing the spot just above her big toe where Michael's fishhook had sliced into her fluke. First time in recorded history that a Human had actually hooked a Mer with a fishing line—and a child, no less. Without trying. She wouldn't be spreading that story around any time soon.

   And, fish! That hook had hurt. But, ironically, it had been what saved her. She wouldn't have thought to use a boat to escape a shark otherwise.

   "It's okay, Michael. Mers are fast healers, and you did save my life. Harry wouldn't come near me once you caught me." Sharks were more afraid of Humans in hunting mode than of going hungry.

   Michael let the colorful wrapper flutter to the deck. "What's a Mer, Angel? I thought you were a mermaid."

   Angel picked up his refuse and held it out to him. "Here. You shouldn't litter. It damages the planet."

   "But it's only a piece of paper." He chomped on the substance… ah, chewing gum.

   Amelia the pelican was a huge fan of the stuff, which she found on any dock, beach umbrella, or other surface where Humans congregated. Talk about dam aging the planet.

   "It's only a little piece of paper from you, Michael, but what if everyone did the same thing? Then there would be a lot of paper."

   "Oh. Okay. I'll throw it in the trash." He took the paper from her and shoved it back in his pocket. That was a start.

   "Good job." She patted his knee, curbing the desire to study it. She had her own knees now and could examine them all she wanted. She ran a hand over them, then extended a leg. Flexed it. Wiggled the toes.

   "So what's a Mer?"

   Right. Focus on the conversation. She'd have time enough later to study the workings of her legs.

   "We are called Mers, Michael. Both male and fe male Mers. You Humans use the terms 'mermaids' and 'mermen,' not us." As for the
maid
part, well, that hadn't been true for selinos, but she wouldn't be ex plaining that.

   "Mermen? There are mermen, too? Cool!" This time Michael forgot to whisper and—of course—his father was heading their way.

   "Sssh!" Angel touched a finger to Michael's lips. "Remember, it's our secret."

   Michael followed Angel's gaze. "Right. Our se cret. But can I tell Rocky?" The little boy was back to whispering.

   "Who's Rocky?"

   "My pet raccoon. Well, he's not really a pet. He's a toy. I wanted a real pet, but Rainbow said no and I didn't ask Logan yet."

"Who's Rainbow?"

   Michael grabbed the rim of his cap and tugged it lower until half his face was hidden. "Oh, she's my mom."

   So Logan was married. Darn. She wouldn't have minded watching Human courting rituals. Oh well, beggars—and landed Mers—couldn't be picky. She'd be happy with what she got.

   Then Logan reached the boat and she was very happy.

   Logan Hardington was one fine-looking specimen— Human or Mer. Handsome face and warm, dark brown eyes below thick hair the color of a sea lion's pelt after a few hours in the sun. The light dusting of hair on his chest was a shade darker. Broad, tanned shoulders ta pered to a taut abdomen where his black shorts rode low on his hips above long, well-toned legs. His face and lean, muscled body looked as if they'd been carved by a master sculptor.

   Her sister, Mariana, who was a sculptor, would love to get her hands on him. Of course, Logan's wife might have something to say about that.

   Here's hoping the wife didn't mind a houseguest.

   Logan climbed aboard, and Angel took mental notes of which muscles contracted, the angle his upper body assumed to counterbalance the forward momentum, how his arms moved… If only she had her tablets to mark down these observations. Damn Harry.

   "Hey, sport," Logan said, "I'm sorry, but there's a change in plans. No fishing today. I have to handle something with work. We'll go tomorrow." Then he looked at her. "As for you, Angel, I can drop you at the bus station—"

   "But you said she could stay with us," Michael inter rupted, hopping up from his seat and planting his fists on his waist. "I don't wanna watch TV anymore while you work. I want Angel to play with me. Why can't she be my babysitter?"