Catch of a Lifetime (9 page)

   
And the lust?

   Well, okay, that was real. But only because of the enchantment of her voice.

   
Uh huh. And he hadn't almost kissed you earlier.
Right.

   Okay, fine. He wanted her. But she didn't want lust. She wanted love.

   
With a Human?

   No, that's not what she meant. Angel huffed, an noyed that she was arguing with her subconscious while Logan's subconscious, conscience, ego, id, identity, whatever, had apparently gone into lustful hibernation.

   "Yo-hoo… Logan… " She waved her hand in front of his face, praying to the gods that her nipples had gone back into hiding.

   She glanced down.

   No such luck.

   And, tracking Logan's gaze, she saw that he'd noticed.

   "Logan!" Michael walked around to his father. "What's wrong with him, Angel?" He turned his big, brown eyes to her. The worry in them affected her every bit as much as her voice had affected his father.

   First she reminded him of his mother, then she scared the daylights out of him by hypnotizing his father. Some babysitter she was turning out to be. Logan would never let her stay now.

   "Nothing, Michael. Your dad will be fine. Let's get him a glass of ice water. That should help."

   She hoped.

   Because while she had a vested interest in not seeing Logan as a man, he had no similar reason.

   And that look in his eyes said he definitely was see ing her as a woman.

She was singing.

   Harry lifted one side of his head out of the water. Oh yeah, that was Angel. The Dinner-That-Wasn't. And she had her sights set on that Human. Heh—true to form.

   Sure, Mers could claim that they'd evolved from earlier times when everyone had the run of the sea, and demand that sharks do the same to qualify for that Representative's seat on The Council he was angling for, but when flipper came to fin, instinct won out.

   The best part was, if she played up that angle and lured the Human to the water, the child was sure to fol low, and Harry would get the best of both worlds.

   Not only would he be able to capture Angel and ransom her back to The Council—his plan before she'd done the unthinkable and climbed aboard the Human's boat last night—but now he'd have two Humans to savor. Question was, which one should he eat first?

   Ah, gluttony. Such a hedonistic pleasure.

   But there was a problem. That boat.

   Harry tapped the end of his head with his tail fin. That boat was too big for him to take on by himself.

   Shit. He was going to need help—much as he hated to admit it. But the prospect of taking her hostage
and
getting a two-course meal was too much to pass by.

   He gave one last look at the beach. Tomorrow night he knew right where she'd be.

   He and the boys would be waiting.

ANGEL COULDN'T GET INTO THE KITCHEN FAST ENOUGH.

   Logan's reaction freaked her out. She'd heard about the effect of Siren Song on Human males, but she hadn't expected it to happen like that. Didn't she have to
want
to mesmerize him with her voice for it to work? And that was definitely the last thing she wanted. Even if her toes
had
started tingling—

   No. Really. She didn't want him to see her as any thing other than Michael's babysitter.

   "Angel, I wanna get some different paper." Michael turned his hat cockeyed on his head. "I'm gonna make more animals after cake."

   "Um, sure, honey. Go ahead." Better to leave her alone to putter around the kitchen and try to regain her equilibrium— and she didn't mean because of her legs—than stand there while she was trying to pretend everything was normal.

   Everything was
not
normal.

   She grabbed a glass out of the cabinet, then turned on the faucet and ran her fingers beneath the water. Logan wasn't the only one who could use a drink of something cold. What was going on?

   Well, she knew what was going on with
him
, but what had happened to her? Logan's gaze had sent shivers over her skin and ramped up her internal temperature. Oh she knew what it was; she just hadn't expected it. Not with a Human.

   She filled the glass and drank most of the water in one swallow, then pressed it against her forehead, will ing the coolness to have an effect. But when the French door opened and Logan strode in, Angel realized that water wasn't going to do the trick after all.

   Not with that look in his eyes.

   She set the glass down and backed up against the counter. "Logan? What are you doing here? We'll bring your drink out to you."

   He didn't say a word.

   Not one.

   He didn't have to. The look in his eyes answered for him and Angel wasn't so sure she wanted to know what that answer was.

   He gave it to her anyway.

   In four strides.

   That's all it took him.

   Four.

   Then he slid his fingers in her hair, pressed himself against her, and kissed her.

   
Really
kissed her.

   Mind-numbingly seductive, ravishing kisses.

   He devoured her mouth, his tongue taking quick ad vantage of her surprise, and swept inside with a thrust so blatant her legs went boneless.

   That didn't stop Logan. He slid an arm around her back and lifted her so her backside rested on the lip of the counter, making her the perfect height to return his kisses.

   
Return
his kisses? She must be going craz—

   Logan nudged her legs apart and suddenly her breasts were flattened against that hard, sculpted wall of his chest, her legs on either side of him, her swelling core demanding pressure, and Angel's breath disappeared.

   Thank the gods Logan chose that moment to nip along her jaw, but Angel still couldn't catch her breath.

   Then his tongue swirled in the soft spot beneath her ear, and she decided breathing was highly overrated.

   Her head fell back and she reached for his arms to hold herself upright so he could reach… there… that…

   Oh, gods… His tongue… it twirled around the shell of her ear, his warm breath sending goose bumps all over her. She wiggled on the counter, trying to close her legs, needing the pressure…

   Then he pulled her against him even more, spreading her legs wider, and
there
was the pressure.

   The long, hard length of him hit her at just the right spot. Her fingers curled into his biceps as he slid one hand beneath her backside to draw her closer.

   She hadn't thought it was possible to
be
any closer.

   Then she felt his shaft jerk between them and knew that there was, indeed, a way…

   Angel opened her eyes.

   Oh, gods. What were they doing?

   Logan's tongue stroked the soft inside of her bottom lip and Angel knew
exactly
what they were doing.

   Or rather, exactly what
she
was doing.

   She was making out with an enchanted man.

   Enchanted… and enchanting.

   She tried to pull back. Regain her focus.

   Logan was having none of it. With one hand still firmly beneath her backside, his fingers sending all sorts of riotous fires along her nerve endings, the fingers of his other hand opened wide across the back of her neck, his thumb angling her jaw just right so he could kiss her senseless again.

   And, oh my, did he.

   Angel closed her eyes, her body having given in be fore her mind, but oh, the sensations…

   Her fingers curled again on his biceps, tugging him closer—if that was even possible—and her belly quiv ered when his tongue stroked hers. Her legs followed suit when his harshly drawn breath expanded his chest against her sensitized nipples and Angel couldn't stop a groan.

   "Angel?"

   Michael.

   Oh, gods. Michael!

   He couldn't see them. Not like this.

   Angel squirmed, no longer groaning. No longer tug ging on Logan. "Logan!" she whispered the moment his lips freed hers to once again trail over her jaw. "Logan, you have to stop! Wake up!" or whatever it was called.

   Logan was a man on a mission. And that mission was the cord in her neck. His lips traced down it, soft, flut tery, just like her nerve endings, and if not for Michael's stomping on the steps, she might have gone with the sensations to see where they led.

   But Michael Could. Not. See.

   And just as importantly, she Should. Not. Do.

   This time she put some
oomph behind her actions an
d managed to separate them.

   Logan looked at her with hooded eyes that were hot ter than any fire, his chest rising and falling in a way her breasts were aching to feel. He reached out to caress her jaw and, for a second, Angel let him.

But when he took a step closer, she backed away.

   This was all her fault and she was not going to damage a child's psyche because of her super-charged hormones, nor any hot, sexy, yield-to-me look in Logan's eyes.

   She closed her legs—pressure at last—and managed to skirt around him off the counter before he could pin her there again.

   She grabbed the glass by the sink and, having no clue what else to do because no one had ever discussed how to
end
a Siren's enchantment, tossed the rest of the water in Logan's face.

   "What the hell?" Logan shook his head, water drop lets flinging everywhere, but at least it did the trick.

   She tossed him a towel just as Michael entered the room.

   "I got colored paper this time," the little boy said, holding up the aforementioned paper. "Want to help me make a bunch of parrots? They're my favorite."

   "Sure, honey." She made the show of adjusting Michael's hat on his head, but her main purpose was to prevent him from asking why Logan was all wet. She steered him toward the door. "Why don't you go set up on the table? Your dad and I will be right out. No peek ing at your presents, though."

   Michael smiled at her—a smile so like his father's that it took her breath away. "Oh, okay."

   She waited until he was out the door before turning back to look at Logan—something she both wanted to do and dreaded doing.

   How in Hades was she going to explain
this?

SHE HAD THE BEST BREASTS HE'D SEEN IN A LONG TIME.

   Logan jerked his head. What was wrong with him? Ogling Angel's breasts? He should be shot. And as for pinning her up against the cabinets and mauling her, he ought to be drawn and quartered.

   He wiped his face with the towel she'd mercifully tossed him and gave half a thought to gouging out his eyes. He'd never leered at a woman before, much less attacked one. She was a guest in his home. Michael's babysitter. Could he
be
a bigger cad?

   He slumped against the counter and reached for the glass. Christ. Something had hit him like a tidal wave. There hadn't been a subtle thing about the staring he'd done. At her breasts, no less. The poor woman was look ing at him as if he'd suggested he tie her to the bedposts. He couldn't blame her.

   
In another life, that idea would have a lot to com
mend it.

   He shook his head. Something weird had come over him. Exhaustion maybe. The shock of finding Michael on his doorstep finally catching up with him? A naked goddess on his boat who sang like an angel and looked like a temptress? Who, at this very moment, might be wearing red lingerie beneath her dress? Hell, it was any body's guess.

   He took a swig of the water. Or rather, he tried to.

Nothing left.

   That'd be because he was wearing it—and he didn't blame her in the least.

   She started to fiddle with a few strands of hair. "Logan…"

   "Angel, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't excuse my ac tions, but I honestly don't know what came over me."

   She let go of her hair and gripped the chair in front of her, her tongue sneaking out to lick her bottom lip.

   Actually, he
did
know what had come over him.

   But that was no reason to act on it.

   "I don't blame you if you want to look for another place to stay, but I want to apologize and assure you"— and himself—"that it won't happen again."

   He hoped.

   Her mouth fell open. "Wha…
what
?"

   He laughed inwardly. She was going to make him say it. Well, served him right. What moron took advantage of a woman the way he had? You might think it'd been four
years
instead of four weeks since Joanne.

   "That kiss. I was way out of line. I have no idea why I did it—"

   She got this look on her face, and Logan realized he was digging a deeper hole for himself. Of course no woman would want to hear that the man who'd just been mauling her—quite pleasantly, there was no de nying the truth in that—didn't know why he'd done it. She was gorgeous; he knew why he was attracted to her. He just didn't know why he'd gone all caveman on her.

   "I mean, yes, you're beautiful, but that's no excuse for the way I behaved. I'm very sorry and you have my word that it won't happen again. Please don't leave. Michael really cares about you and he's been through a lot. I'd rather not disappoint him if it can be avoided."

   "You think I'm beautiful?"

   The funny thing was, she wasn't being coy. Her eyes, those beautiful sparkling tropical-seas eyes, were open and honest and guileless.