THE CHOCOLATE CAKE WAS EVERY BIT AS DELICIOUS AS HER father’s Olympian Advisor had claimed, and the smile on Michael’s face when Logan presented him with a baseball glove—an object Angel had heard about but didn’t really see the attraction of—was priceless. As was the ability to work beside Logan cleaning up the dinner. Priceless? Angel almost dropped a plate at that thought. If her mother could see her now, enjoying chores. Of course, the chores weren’t what she was enjoying. Something had changed. Drastically. Angel rubbed a spot on the plate a little more vigor-ously than necessary, forcing her mind back to the rea-son she’d stayed aboard ship last night. Well, the reason other than Harry, that is. This was all for the benefit of Merkind and the planet. And if she kept telling herself that, she might actually remember it. Then Logan’s arm brushed her shoulder, and sud-denly the fate of the planet took a backseat to what was happening here and now in the kitchen. She stacked
Wanting to distance herself from the Hardington men and the accompanying emotions, Angel decided to investigate the guesthouse Logan had opened earlier for her. At the end of a brick path from the main house and overlooking the ocean, the three-room cottage was the perfect home-away-from-home for a displaced Mer. Whoever had decorated it had chosen the vivid col¬ors of the Caribbean. Pillows and fabric in all shades of the sea dotted the white wicker furniture, and the pinks, yellows, greens, and blues of life in the tropics were splashed throughout the cozy living room and galley kitchen. A bay window stretched the length of the bathroom wall, beneath which sat a freestanding tub with embroi-dered seashell towels draping over its scalloped edges. A hemp basket filled with bath products hung from a hook nearby. Painted in sand and coral tones, with tumbled marble flooring, the room reminded her of Atlantis. Just as welcoming and beautiful. Although not as far from Logan. She hadn’
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” Angel heard the words the minute she felt some-thing—no, make that someone—yank her beneath the waves. And, fish! She didn’t even have the full tail yet. Angel twisted around, doubling back on herself, watching as amethyst shimmered along her lower half from her toes up, and she took her first aqua-breath just as her sea-vision returned. Mariana was the tail-yanker. It figured. “Let go, sis.” As the last of her scales returned just below her navel, Angel flicked her tail to emphasize her point. Mariana still thought that because she was older, Angel had to listen to her. Angel had been trying to get out from under the big-sister thumb for selinos. When she was in charge of the Coalition, everyone would see her as an independent adult and take her seriously—at least, that was the hope. Of course she had to become the head of the Coalition. Which she wasn’t going to be able to do if Mariana got in her way. A parade of skates flapped their wingtips as t
THE NEW ANGLE OF THE SUN THROUGH THE WINDOWS WOKE Angel too early the next morning. Unlike this bright, burning hit to her eyelids that jarred her awake in an instant, sunlight arrived differently in Atlantis: filtering through crevasses in the undersea cavern containing the city, bouncing off the golden walls and marble build-ings, mixing with the refracted light of glowing magma to seep between her lashes and coax her awake. The early-morning chirpings of robins outside her window didn’t help matters either. Stretching her legs and flexing her toes, Angel sat up on the bed with a yawn, realizing from the birds’ startled looks that she was naked. Again. Blushing, Angel searched for the sheets to cover herself but had to settle for a pillow when she saw the twisted pile of bedding on the floor. Why was she naked? Again? Slowly, last night came back to her. Coercing coop-eration out of Mariana had taken longer than she would have liked. It’d been catch-and-release there for a bi
And a sigh out of her. Which, thankfully, she man-aged to keep very soft. “Cool! Let’s go see the manatees.” “Manatees?” That got her wayward thoughts off things they weren’t supposed to be considering anyway. While Angel loved the gentle creatures—especially this coastal contingent who were the ones responsible for discover-ing the coup attempt against Rod a few selinos ago—she couldn’t risk even one drop of saltwater reaching her legs. Not in front of Logan, and definitely not in public. “Michael, I think I’d like to steer clear of the ocean for a bit, if you don’t mind.” “Actually, Angel…” Logan addressed her directly, and silly her, she couldn’t hide the shiver that action sent through her. Good gods. What was wrong with her? She was a scientist, for gods’ sakes. She should have some control over herself. Yes, she’d proved that so well last night in this very kitchen … “The refuge is on the river,” Logan contin-ued as if there were no inappropriate thoughts diving through he
Logan peeled his gaze off the panes in the French door and focused it on the white cabinets over the micro-wave. Then at the faded-denim curtain the designer had insisted he needed over the window. At the maroon-and-navy, rope-design tile along the top of the backsplash the same designer had insisted on. It was no use. His eyes wanted to return to Angel. She looked like… He didn’t know what she looked like in that outfit. Perfect was the only word that came to mind. Her long, blonde hair—the soft, silky hair he’d felt trailing over different parts of his anatomy yesterday and wouldn’t mind having along other parts of his body—hung to her hips, damp loose waves making him think of nights spent in wild abandon. Her face, with those rarest-of-color eyes, was breathtakingly beautiful. Her smile, so generous and quick, a Cupid’s bow of a mouth and the dimple high in her cheek… the woman was utterly stunning. And he’d had her up against the cabinets, devouring her with his lips and wanti
THE MANATEES WERE BEAUTIFUL. ANGEL HAD ALWAYS thought so. So serene. Content to bob among the shoreline vegetation, these creatures never seemed bothered by any-thing. They took life as it came, floating with the waves, bumping into each other for comfort. Talk about babysit-ters. Any child of the sea was always safe in their care. She still kept in touch with the herd her parents had hired to watch her and her siblings when they’d vaca-tioned off this coast when they were younger. Matter of fact, she thought she recognized a familiar face or two, but luckily, by pretending to have a pebble in her shoe, she had the chance to ask the manatees to treat her as they would any other Human. The birds, however, were another matter. “Can you talk to animals? I saw that in a movie.” Michael asked as a cardinal flitted down from the trees to tweet at them for the seventh time, swooping from one side of the path to the other, garnering her more interest than she cared for. “Of course she ca
ANGEL TOOK ONE LAST PASS BY THE MANATEE ENCLOSURE AS they headed toward the park’s exit. She’d loved seeing everyone, but the fact that they were in pens saddened her—and reminded her exactly what Humans were ca-pable of. Oh, yes, this facility was for the animals’ ben-efit, and visitor money enabled the caretakers to care for the manatees, but other Humans weren’t so altruistic. That’s why she was determined to succeed. For every-one’s benefit. The smiles Logan had given her today when she’d sug-gested Michael hold his hand were a personal benefit. “So, Michael, what do you think of the manatees?” she asked as they were departing, not dwelling on per-sonal anything when it came to Logan. Well, trying not to. Michael wrinkled his nose. “Manatees don’t look like mermaids. Mermaids are pretty.” A smile replaced the thoughtful look on Logan’s face. He obviously found Michael’s comment funny, but Angel took the comment for what it was: a compliment. “Perhaps not to you, but they’re b