Catch of a Lifetime Read Free Page A

paper from her and shoved it back in his pocket. That was a start.
       "Good job." She patted his knee, curbing the desire to study it. She had her own knees now and could examine them all she wanted. She ran a hand over them, then extended a leg. Flexed it. Wiggled the toes.
       "So what's a Mer?"
       Right. Focus on the conversation. She'd have time enough later to study the workings of her legs.
       "We are called Mers, Michael. Both male and fe male Mers. You Humans use the terms 'mermaids' and 'mermen,' not us." As for the maid part, well, that hadn't been true for selinos, but she wouldn't be ex plaining that.
       "Mermen? There are mermen, too? Cool!" This time Michael forgot to whisper and—of course—his father was heading their way.
       "Sssh!" Angel touched a finger to Michael's lips. "Remember, it's our secret."
       Michael followed Angel's gaze. "Right. Our se cret. But can I tell Rocky?" The little boy was back to whispering.
       "Who's Rocky?"
       "My pet raccoon. Well, he's not really a pet. He's a toy. I wanted a real pet, but Rainbow said no and I didn't ask Logan yet."
    "Who's Rainbow?"
       Michael grabbed the rim of his cap and tugged it lower until half his face was hidden. "Oh, she's my mom."
       So Logan was married. Darn. She wouldn't have minded watching Human courting rituals. Oh well, beggars—and landed Mers—couldn't be picky. She'd be happy with what she got.
       Then Logan reached the boat and she was very happy.
       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