Catch of a Lifetime (37 page)

   He didn't give one damn that she was a mermaid. Mer. Whatever. She was Angel, she was his, and she was free because of his love.

   She tossed her hair, this time to the side, where it drifted against his hip, a sensation so erotic it almost made him come. Then she did that tongue thing again below his Adam's apple, her nipples stroking his chest, and Logan didn't know how much longer he could hold out.

   "Are you trying to kill me?" he murmured between a sigh and a groan.

   She kissed the underside of his jaw, her breasts flat tening against him, the slick wet heat of her enfolding him. "I can't, remember?" She did that thing against his throat again. "Unless you want me to stop?"

   "Hell no," he growled, urging her to sit up, then an gled her hips up just a bit… right there… that was it…

   Logan spread his hands across her flat belly, his thumbs meeting where she pulsed against him, and he stroked her.

   "Oh gods, Logan…"

   "Oh gods, Logan, what?" He slid one thumb along her swollen flesh until he reached the spot where they were joined, then slowly stroked upward.

   Angel's breaths came faster. Shallower. Her skin flushed just enough to be noticeable, and even the sun couldn't match the heat they were generating together.

   She ran her tongue over her lips in that way he loved, her eyes almost closed, and moved against him. Against him, on him, around him, everything he saw, touched, smelled, wanted, it was all Angel.

   He stroked her again. "Come for me, sweetheart."

   The words themselves had power, but it was the tiny

hitch in her breath that wound her around his heart. It was as if they'd been created for each other, every part fitting so perfectly…

   He'd been an idiot to tell her to leave. A fool to think anything made any difference for them. Here was where he was supposed to be. With her.

   "Oh, Logan." She changed her position, now falling back to brace her hands on his thighs, opening herself up to his touch, wet and hot and ready. Her hair slid down her back, falling between his legs with an erotic simplic ity that stole his breath. A few strands drifted between her breasts, down to where he touched her.

   "Don't ever cut your hair, Angel." He grasped a shank of it behind her, threading his fingers through it, and tugged gently.

   Framed by the window and silhouetted against a sky the color of her eyes, she arched her back, her breasts swelling, nipples tightening, and Logan ached to run his tongue over every inch of her.

   He stroked her again and she shuddered. She was ach ingly beautiful. Natural. Breathtakingly and elementally so. The very essence of a woman.

   He shifted beneath her, knowing she'd feel him inside her, and stroked her again. Her eyes flashed open, then he used the tips of her hair to trace the spot where her trident tattoo had been—one more piece of the magic that was Angel.

   "Do that again," she breathed, her tongue flicking against the corner of her mouth, and his cock responded with the same movement inside her.

   She rocked back, her breasts heaving as she took a deeper breath.

   His thumb circled on her and she moaned, her inner muscles squeezing him.

   Using his palms, he lifted her off him, just enough that she protested, only to press against her swollen flesh and make her cry out.

   "Oh gods, Logan, yes… I'm almost… I… please…"

   Sweat glistened on her body, and the heady scent of ocean and Angel and lovemaking filled the air around them. Logan slid his thumb down a little farther, all the while circling, using her own wetness for the perfect amount of friction.

   Perfect. That's what she was.

   She squeezed her legs around him, trembling, and her inner muscles contracted, sending spasms of need spiral ing through his body, tightening his balls, and he knew it wouldn't be long.

   He dug in his heels and thrust into her, pressing down on her hips as she contracted around him again, his thumb still circling, her breasts rising and falling before him, eyes half-closed again, her tongue tracing madden ing circles on those sweet pink lips, her breath coming faster, harsher, her fingers biting into his thighs as her inner muscles quickened.

   "Yes… yes… oh… my… Logan…"

   Shudders stronger than any earthquake wracked his body as they came together, the sensations more power ful than any whirlpool.

   The love they shared greater than any differences the gods had created between them.

   "I love you," he had to whisper, wrapping both arms around her slender form, feeling the fragile bones in her back yet knowing how strong she truly was. Strong enough to take on the world's worst mon ster for him. "Forever."

And, thanks to Zeus and her love, it truly was
forever.

"ANGEL? LOGAN? WANNA PLAY BALL?" MICHAEL'S shadow fluttered on the filmy netting draping their hon eymoon cabana door. Private island getaways didn't need doors—unless one expected a six-year-old to make an appearance.

   Logan helped Angel smooth the sheet on the bed, then checked himself in the mirror. They'd had to scramble into their clothes when Mariana had done the first loop around the island. Good thing Angel's sister had a big set of lungs—half the Caribbean had probably heard her warn them Michael was on his way.

   One more reason he'd be indebted to Mariana for the rest of his life.

   He didn't mind in the least.

   "Come on in, Michael." Logan brushed past Angel, unable to prevent himself from touching her shoulder, then he pulled back the netting.

   "Oooh, awesome!" Michael bounced in—of course— and picked up the crystal sculpture Mariana had given them for a wedding present.

   "Awesome? What happened to 'cool'?" Logan said, rustling his son's hair. The hat had been left back in Florida on Rocky's head. Michael had decided it wasn't proper wedding attire, and Logan liked the symbolism that change represented. His son was willing to accept Angel in Christine's place.

   "'Cool' is a little kid's word. Since I swam with sharks and dolphins in a whirlpool, I'm all growed up."

   Logan put his arm around Michael's shoulders and tugged his son against him. He didn't want Michael to be all "growed up"; he'd barely had any time to enjoy his son as a child.

   But he definitely would enjoy the children he and Angel made together.

   The look in her eyes said she was thinking the same thing—and couldn't wait to get back to
practicing
any more than he could.

   He stepped out onto the patio to check the angle of the sun. A few more hours until his in-laws took Michael for a "cool"—no, make that "awesome"—un derwater vacation, while he and Angel began a week's worth of uninterrupted, deserted island honeymoon. Sounded like heaven to him, though Zeus had assured him after the ceremony that the deserted island was nothing like Olympus.

   Logan didn't care. Anywhere Angel was, was heaven for him.

   "Oh, look! A rainbow!"

   Michael darted out of the cabana, a finger pointing toward the beach.

   Just offshore, a full rainbow arced across the ocean.

   "Rainbow said I can remember her every time I see one, and she's right!" The little boy took off down the beach, kicking up sand behind him.

   "Hi, Rainbow!" he called, running toward the water until Angel's sister rode a wave onto the beach, grabbed Michael around the waist, and sent him back to his father.

   Not that Logan was worried about sharks anymore. Zeus had promised him there'd be no more of that in Michael's life, and Logan didn't want to ever drag Michael away from a rainbow. Not now, knowing what one represented. Christine's name choice was easy to understand.

   "A cowrie for your thoughts." His wife—his
wife—
snuggled up under his arm in the beautiful peasant blouse and shirt Nadia had sent with Michael as a wed ding gift. Someday he'd have to talk to his mother about her psychic abilities.

   And find out how much she knew about Mers.

   He kissed the top of Angel's head and nodded at the ocean. "Rainbow."

   "Hey, Angel! Didya see it?" Michael bounced back onto the porch.

   "I did, Michael. Isn't it beautiful?" She tilted her head back to look up at Logan, that gorgeous blonde hair flowing over his arm, her teal blue shirt the perfect foil for her hair and eyes. "Did you know that, in Mer mythology, a rainbow is said to represent the unity of heaven and earth? Over the ocean, it represents the unity of all three."

   Logan reached out for Michael and drew him into a hug with Angel.

   His wife and his son. Unity of all three.

   A family.

   As normal as any under the sun.

   Or under the sea.

   He could live with that.

Research is one of the best parts about writing, and I find myself getting lost in it on occasion, which opens up whole new worlds and possibilities—a gift for any writer. What I also like about research is that sometimes I need something to be a certain way for the story and
voilà
! I find the history, facts, or location I need. Some times, though, I have to tweak it, so enjoy the factoids but know that some might be tweaked to fit the story. I added the "over the ocean" part to the Greek mythol ogy about rainbows, and I also played around with the Miami Dolphins' preseason game schedule.

   I apologize to the players for having them suit up a few weeks early in the Florida heat so Logan could turn down the fifty-yard line seats, but I needed to make the story timeline work.

   Enjoy the few extra weeks of practice, guys.

My editor, Deb Werksman. It is a true pleasure to work with you, and you make it all so much better.

   My agent, Jennifer Schober, for the pep talks, enthu siasm, and sage advice.

   Sue Grimshaw. Again. Because. 

   Sia McKye, for the marketing/blog wonderfulness.

   Hawk, for all the enthusiasm and help in spreading the word.

   Carla, for the promotion, you sneaky thing!

   Sharyn (and Vince, too), for all your Florida and bird information, as well as the perfect pre-RT stay at "VFRW South"!

   Ann "Twinkles" LaBar Russek, for all things poetic.

   Dana Marton, for the Hungarian help.

   Tracy Garrett, for
The Princess Bride
reference at PASIC.

   Jamie Chapman, for naming A.C.'s girlfriend. I can't believe I couldn't come up with that one on my own, and thank you for doing so! Utterly perfect!

   Tailgate Russ and his Tailgate Nation, for all the votes. Every time.

   Bob Hitchner at All Seasons Marina in Marmora, New Jersey, for painstakingly crawling over every boat in inventory with me to see where a mermaid could possibly hide. And not cracking a joke when telling people what we were doing (though we did get some funny looks).

   The usual list of suspects: The Writing Wombats; all the supporters on Gather; my fellow VFRWers and AT3ers; The Survivor Girls; The SoonToBes; The "Jens:" Jenny G. and Jen T.; Robin K.; Val A.; Chris S.; Cindy S.; Julie P.; Mom and Dad; Nan; and of course, my own family—I'm so glad you love pizza!

   My publisher, Dominique Raccah, and the team at Sourcebooks: Danielle, Sarah, Susie, the marketing department, and everyone else involved with the sto ries—thank you all for bringing my dreams to fruition. Especially to Anne Cain for the utterly gorgeous covers that really capture my world.

   And to the readers who have embraced that world, I thank you for your emails. As much as you've said I've helped or amused you, you've given it back tenfold to me and make all of this fun and worthwhile.

Judi Fennell is an award-winning author whose romance novels have been finalists in Gather.com's First Chap ters and First Chapters Romance contests, as well as in the third American Title contest. She lives in suburban Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and spends family vacations at the Jersey Shore, the setting for some of her paranor mal romance series.

   Author of
In Over Her Head
and
Wild Blue Under
, Judi has enjoyed the reader feedback she's received and would love to hear what you think about her Mer series. Check out her website at www. JudiFennell.com for excerpts, reviews, contests, deleted scenes, and pic tures from reader and writer conferences, as well as the chance to "dive in" to her stories.

Reel carried the woman toward his home. Had he done the right thing? The Powers-That-Be were not going to be happy. There was going to be Hades to pay.

   "So where are her fins?" Chum swam up on his right.

   "I told you. She doesn't get any."

   "But I thought when you turned a Human, they—"

   "Their lungs are able to breathe oxygen from water, Chum. Just like me and the rest of the Mers. That and they get the ability to see, speak, and hear underwater. But she doesn't get fins." If he couldn't have them, it'd be really unfair for turned Humans to get them.

   Reel blew through a school of herring, their silver scales sparkling like a burst of moon-glow around them.

   "Seems kinda unfair. They can't keep up with the rest of you if, say, Harry gets a hankering for a tasty meal."

   "Harry's going to keep his rectangular head out of my territory, if he knows what's good for him." He angled down to a lower trench, skimming above a family of starfish out for a slow slink across a rusted ship anchor.