Catch of a Lifetime

Copyright © 2010 by Judi Fennell

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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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THERE WAS A NAKED WOMAN ON HIS BOAT.

   Logan Hardington shook his head and rubbed his eyes, but the picture didn't change. Lady Godiva was sprawled over a pillow on his deck, a navy blue blanket draped over the bottom half of the curviest ass he'd seen in a long while.

   Long, blonde—almost yellow—loose curls tumbled over creamy shoulders all the way down to that blanket, the ends pooling in the dimples above her ass, some strands twirling along the visible portion of her cleft near the light blue markings of a faded bruise.

   Shapely legs, one slightly bent, only a shade or two darker than the fiberglass boat deck, trailed from beneath the blanket, one small foot flexing in the soft morning breeze. A hint of upturned nose peeked from beneath the blonde jumble, pink lips pursed in sleep, slender fingers disappearing beneath her cheek. He wondered what color her eyes were.

   And why she was naked.

   On his boat.

   Hungry gulls cawed overhead, but she didn't stir. The wake from McKye's charter jostled the
Mir-a-Mar a
s the day's fishing tour set out, but that didn't rouse her either.

   Oh hell. She was probably a drunk co-ed who'd followed some "sailor" home. He'd seen that walk of shame many mornings. Didn't these people think of the repercussions?

   Logan looked back down the pier where his son, Michael, chatted with Tony as the wizened old salt chopped chum, and Logan smiled. Ah, the things he would have loved to have seen as a boy. The things he should have been able to show Michael from day one—

   And would have if his ex-girlfriend had only men tioned a little thing like a pregnancy…

   Logan tamped down the anger at Christine—who, according to his son, now went by
Rainbow
for God only-knew-what reasons—and focused instead on the next female to make him wonder what men ever saw in women.

   Then Lady Godiva moved and the blanket slipped to the side and Logan knew
exactly what men saw i
n women.

   But
not what he wanted his son to see. No matter ho
w much Logan wanted to savor the image.

   "Hey, um… Miss." Logan hunkered down and shook one of those shapely legs.

   She mumbled something and flipped her head the other way, a tangle of hair tickling his arm. Logan pulled his hand back and captured the curls as they slid across his palm. Silky. Soft. The way a woman's hair should be.

   He blinked. What the hell was he doing thinking about her hair? She was naked, for God's sake, and his six-year-old was going to get one hell of a birthday pres ent if she didn't wake up and cover herself.

   "Miss, wake up." Logan shook her shoulder, glancing back to Michael. Thank God Tony had a ton of fish tales to keep the boy occupied.

   The woman sighed, and her shoulder slid beneath his fingertips. Her skin was just as soft and silky as her hair.

   He should not be noticing.

   "Lady, you really need to get up." Not that getting up was a problem he seemed to be having. Christ. How long
had
it been if he was getting hard over the naked back of a lush?

   Then she rolled over.

   One lone curl encircled a taut, pink nipple.

   Oh, boy…

   
No
problem getting up now.

   A naked woman… Right there in front of him. A naked goddess, more like. A gift from the gods just for him.

   Except, of course, there was Michael…

   Logan shook his head and reached for the blanket that had slithered to the deck atop some crushed shells and dried seaweed. Fighting with himself the entire time, he tossed it over her.

   "What in the sea?" The blonde bombshell awoke as if she'd been tossed overboard, sputtering and spitting the blanket away from those perfect lips, the most incredible eyes widening above that mouth. The color of the sea… aquamarine. He'd never seen anything like them.

   "Um, hi?" The corners of her eyes turned up along with her mouth. A dimple winked high on her left cheek.

   "Oh." Logan cleared his throat. She didn't sound drunk. "Hi. I'm Logan Hardington." He rocked back on his heels. "Who are you?"

   "I'm, ah… Angel. Tritone."

   She was an angel all right. Straight from Heaven, via the bowels of Hell. A temptress. Flushed with the haze of sleep, innocence and sensuality stared at him from those ocean eyes, and she had the most delectable lips he'd ever seen. Slender arms clutched the blanket to breasts that spilled from the sides, leaving barely anything to the imagination. Not that he needed to imagine since he remembered every splendid inch of those heavenly delights. If this woman wasn't walking temptation, he didn't know what was.

   "So, Angel Tritone, did you have one too many last night?"
Remember that, Hardington. No matter what
kind of influence she'd be on you, she'd be a bad one
on your son.

   Having to kick her off his boat definitely sucked. But he was a father now. A responsible, practical father who didn't fool around with sexy, naked women on his boat.

   A horny, recently celibate father who'd
love
to fool around with this sexy, naked woman on his boat.

   But who wouldn't.

   Damn. This responsibility thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

   Angel cocked her head to the side, curls spilling over her shoulders in perfect, centerfold-fantasy mode, and he had to work really hard to keep his groan from escaping.

   "One too many what?" Her tongue flicked over her lips again in an unself-conscious and utterly sexy way.

   He had to get her off his boat. For sanity's sake. Propriety's, too. Not to mention an impressionable six-year-old's. Logan stood up and held out his hand. "Never mind. Let's get you up and at 'em."

"At who?" She reached for his hand.

   Logan forgot the question the minute her fingers touched his. Hell, he almost forgot his own name, and the six-year-old down the pier was fast becoming a dis tant memory.

   
Everything was becoming a distant memory, fuzz
y and out of focus, because the moment her skin met his, everything else faded to black. Fire, hot and long and needy, sped through his fingers to every extremity, zip ping along his nerve endings like a match to gunpowder; the heavy
thud
of his heart blocking out the call of the birds and the sounds of the marina.

   Then she tugged on his hand to stand, and he had to steady himself so he wouldn't fall on top of her—but man, did he want to. Especially when the blanket slid down her body to pool at her feet.

   "You're naked," slipped out. Since making that comment was better than falling on top of her, he wasn't too upset.

   "I'm what?" Five-foot-nothing dipped her blonde head forward, the curls now caressing his wrist, one encircling his forearm, and Logan had to focus on his breathing. He'd never had such an intense reaction to a woman. Then again, he'd never seen a woman like this before in his life.

   Pink stained her cheeks when she glanced back at him and, dog that he was, he compared the color to the tips of her breasts. Only for a second, but it was enough—her cheeks were lighter pink.

   But the curls between her legs perfectly matched those brushing her hips.

   "
Why
are you naked?" Oh hell. What kind of a ques tion was that? "I mean, what are you doing here?"

   "Sleeping?" She moistened her lips quickly, with just a hint of pink tongue—which was more than enough to get him thinking about that tongue…

   "I gathered that. The question is why?"

   "Oh." She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck, and glanced toward the ocean. "Well, I was swimming, and… and there was a shark. Yes. A shark. And he was coming after me. So I climbed aboard your boat, and, well," she shrugged her shoulders and a few strands of hair fell across her breasts, one curling again on her nipple, "here I am."

   Logan peeled his eyes off her breasts to meet her gaze. "Here you are."

   "Yes."

   A moment of silence followed. Well, silence between them. The gulls were making a hell of a ruckus. Logan cleared his throat, then picked up the blanket and handed it to her. "So, is there any particular reason you're naked? Where are your clothes?"

   She gathered the blanket against her chest. Not that Logan needed help with that image or anything… "My clothes. Yes. Um. Well, I was swimming—"

   Right. Skinny-dipping. "Alone?"

   He was asking solely so he could get her off his boat and back where she belonged; that was it. No other reason.

   "Not alone. There was the shark."

   "But what happened to your things?"

   "Oh. They're gone."

   "Gone? Everything? Money, clothes, whatever? Somebody take them while you were swimming?"

   She looked away again toward the ocean, her eyes blinking rapidly. "Yes. Everything's gone."

   So he had a naked, destitute woman on his boat. And a six-year-old who'd be here any minute.

   Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Look, I can give you some money. Get you a ticket back where you came from—where are you from?"

   She licked her lips again and turned those stunning eyes on him. "Have you ever been to Kansas?"

   "Me? No."

   "Oh. Well, I'm from Kansas."

   "You do realize you're a bit of a ways away from Kansas, right?"