4

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?”

“Michael, hold on a minute—”

“Sit on a baby?” Why in-the-sea would anyone want to do that?

Angel didn’t know how Humans cared for their infants since her sister-in-law, Erica, had remained on land for the birth of her daughter, but she would have thought that sitting on a baby was a bad idea. Showed how much she knew. Book studies could only get her so far. She needed real-life practicals, and this one had landed in her lap—and she actually had a lap.

But how had Michael gotten a baby? Her research showed Humans weren’t capable of reproduction until the onset of puberty, the same as Mers.

Both males stared at her. “Don’t you know what a babysitter is?” Logan asked while Michael giggled.

Obviously not what she’d thought it was. And, appar-ently, it was odd for her not to know what one was. “Of course I do. I was only joking.”

Michael figured it out and managed to muffle his laughter, but she could see the questions behind Logan’s eyes. She’d have to do a better job of fitting in.

“See, Logan?” Michael tipped the rim of his cap back. “Now you don’t have to take off from work tomorrow. Angel can watch me. I won’t have to go to daycare, and you can save the money. Rainbow likes to save money.” The child’s smile was every bit as wide as Harry’s, but full of lovely little teeth, a few spaces between them

where the baby ones had fallen out. She wondered how many gold coins Matilda had placed beneath his pillow or if the Tooth Fairy Brigade only celebrated Mer tooth loss. “Michael, that’s not going to happen. Angel has more important things to do than watch you while I’m

at work.”

Ah. Babysitting. An odd phrase, but now completely understandable. Her people called it Mer-minding.

“Actually, I don’t. My study doesn’t take all my time.” Not to mention, babysitting Michael would be her field study.

“See? She can!” Michael was now bouncing on both feet, his cap crushed between his hands, his thick auburn hair, so like his father’s, flopping by his ears.

Logan was trying to glare at her over his son’s head, but Angel purposely kept her gaze averted. She liked Michael’s idea and didn’t want to give Logan any am-munition for his argument.

Yes, Rod would have issues with this whole thing, but if he’d allowed her the opportunity to apply for the job she’d wanted, this situation could have been avoided. But Rod had spouted off about no more Human inter-action by members of his family—interesting how he came up with that stipulation after he and Reel had both married Humans—and then Harry had pulled his idiotic move, so her fins were tied.

Besides, when she pulled this off and went back to Atlantis with firsthand information, she’d be the perfect candidate for director of the Coalition. Rod would have to give her the position—who better to work towards fostering Mer-Human relations with the goal to save the planet than a Mer who’d actually lived among them?

The Council would thank her for the leaps she’d made in advancing Mer knowledge.

If she didn’t blow it…

“Michael, why don’t you go see Tony so Angel and I can talk.”

“I don’t wanna.” Michael puffed out his lower lip and crossed his arms. “You said I could have what¬ever I wanted for my birthday and I want Angel for my babysitter.”

Logan looked ready to spit snails. Instead he rolled his eyes toward the heavens and scraped a hand across his jaw, the slight rasp setting Angel’s skin to tingling.

“Look, sport, no offense to Angel, but I don’t know her well enough to feel comfortable about her watching you.”

She glanced away when Logan’s eyes drilled into hers, and she hunched down in front of the little boy.

“Michael, how about if we do this on a trial basis? Maybe your dad would feel better about me babysitting if he spent the day with us. If he’s happy with the way I look after you, we can discuss the situation then, okay?”

“But I don’t want you to go away.” The little boy’s bottom lip trembled.

Angel couldn’t help herself. She hugged him. He was no different from any other child she knew. “I’m not going anywhere, Michael. I promise.”

Q

Oh, hell.

Logan looked at the scene before him and tossed in the proverbial towel. First the problem at work, now this. He couldn’t deny Michael the one thing he wanted

for his birthday, but he also couldn’t leave his son in the care of a total stranger.

It was a good thing he could work from home. He’d been doing it since Rainbow—Christine—had dropped Michael off with nothing but a note, a stuffed toy rac-coon, a bag of tattered clothing, and a few children’s books. What were a couple more days? Not the ideal situation, but school wasn’t that far off.

“All right, Michael. If that’s what you want, Angel can hang out with you while I’m working today, okay?”

“You’re the best, Logan!” Michael wrapped his thin arms around Logan’s thighs, giving him his first official Dad hug.

A lump formed in Logan’s throat. What would it take to get a “Dad” out of him? Logan didn’t know, but if caving in to babysitter demands was all it took to get a hug, he’d give the kid whatever he wanted.

He patted Michael’s shoulders. No, actually he wouldn’t. The hug was a nice perk, but responsible par-ents didn’t give in to every whim and demand, even if doing so solved problems.

Not that he had any idea of responsible parenting given the pair he’d grown up with, nor the mother he’d inadvertently chosen for his son. Common sense said you couldn’t give a kid everything he wanted, although he had to believe that giving in every now and then wasn’t so bad.

He had wondered how he was going to be a single, working parent when Michael had arrived and had put Give Up Sleep at the top of the list. Visit a Dozen Day cares had taken priority for tomorrow. But now, with Angel around, those To-Do items were no longer necessary.

Then Angel stood up and smoothed his T-shirt down almost to her knees, and Logan had to yank his gaze from her legs. Actually, he would be visiting someplace tomorrow: a women’s clothing store.

She stretched, and the T-shirt slid up her thighs.

No. Make that today. The problem at work could wait another hour or so while they found her something ap-propriate. If Angel was going to be around his son, a T-shirt wouldn’t cut it. She needed clothing. Now. For his sake even more than her own.