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 beautiful to other mana¬tees. And they’re very curious and gentle creatures.”
“If they’re so nice, why do they have all those marks on them? The lady said people did that.”
Pain speared Angel’s heart. This was why she was here. Why she’d stay as long as she could and do
whatever it took to get Humans thinking. And with Michael and other children asking questions, adults could learn.
“That’s true, Michael, but people don’t mean to harm them. It’s just that manatees move so slowly, and not everyone pays attention when they’re boating.”
She raised her voice so others around them could hear her. It couldn’t hurt to start getting her message out now to adults and children alike. “Sometimes it’s hard to see what’s happening in front of you if something moves too slowly. Then, by the time you do see it, it’s damaged. You have to learn to be more careful in the future so you don’t do it again.”
“Sounds stupid.”
“Michael, that’s not a nice thing to say to Angel,” Logan said, and Angel did admit to a thrill that he was defending her—not that he needed to. She knew what Michael meant.
Michael shot his father a very frustrated, eye-rolling, parents-know-nothing look. “Not Angel. People. Manatees live in the ocean and people don’t so they should be more careful.”
If only the adults could grasp that idea as quickly, her work here would be done. Then she wouldn’t have to worry anymore about this attraction that was growing as the hours passed and what it could mean for her future. A family walked by them going the opposite direction, the little girl swinging from her parents’ hands. Michael’s
head whipped around to watch her as they passed.
Angel met Logan’s gaze. Children weren’t difficult to understand. Logan smiled at her and nodded. Together they raised their hands and swung Michael between them.
It took the little boy a surprised second before he realized what they were up to, then he shouted, “Cool! Again!”
“Sure thing, sport.” Logan’s laughter was as infec-tious as his son’s.
And the effect of all that love and happiness made Angel late on the upswing. Michael’s takeoff and land-ing ended up being wobbly, which made Angel stumble over her own feet.
Damned independent action.
She tried to regain her balance, but an exuberant child, new appendages, and the uneven surface con-spired against her. Luckily, Logan had quick reflexes and managed to catch her. Again.
Tingles shot through her. Again.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes darkening. Again.
And, this time, it wasn’t—as evidenced by his widen-ing pupils—due to Siren Song.
“Um…” What was the question? She was trying hard to remember, but the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. More like unraveled her. All her good intentions, all her arguments against feeling this way, all the reasons she shouldn’t give one iota of consideration to leaning in and grabbing hold and pulling herself up against him, of wrapping her arms around him and reliving every second of last night and taking it to its ultimate conclusion—
“Angel?” Logan whispered, his fingers letting go of her arm but not moving away. Actually, he stroked her skin with the backs of his fingertips.
And maybe she did move a step closer.
Well why not? What was the big deal? Scientists
were people, too. She could keep her work separate from her private life.
Rod was going to be annoyed with her anyway. And it wasn’t as if anyone had to know what she and Logan did. He was willing enough. It’d only take the smallest of movements to be in his arms and—
“Can we get some ice cream? I want Moose Trail this time.”
And there was a child present.
Not to mention, a crowd. Plus Logan thought she was Human, was here to care for his son, and had tripped— and not because her legs were new appendages for her. Going into any kind of relationship merited honesty, and she was sure he’d have an issue with her tail.
Then a mynah bird flew above Logan’s head, land-ing on the fence behind him, and her decision was made for her.
It was Rich, that son-of-a-Mer. Mynahs, and specifi-cally this one, were the bane of Mer existence. Of all the birds who could let the catfish out of the net about their ability to speak to Humans, mynahs alone had the utter gall and deviousness to take advantage of Mer fears, always threatening to do it. Rich was the Top Bird in this neck of the woods.
The last thing she needed was for him to get an in-kling of the battle going on inside her or to start talking to Logan.
From the way Rich was tilting his glossy black head, she had cause for worry. While rules were rules, Rich flew to his own tune; she didn’t need him relating the current series of events to her brother or spilling the shells to Logan.
“I’m, uh, fine, Logan. Thanks.” She straightened up,
using Michael’s shoulder to steady herself and tried to pull herself out of Logan’s grip without making it seem obvious. To him or the bird. Neither needed a clue about her feelings.
Logan’s fingers tightened, and a quick scan of her face ended with his gaze lingering on her lips. So she licked them. Why? Oh, maybe because they’d suddenly become as parched as the South Aral Sea.
And they got even more so when Logan sucked in a ragged breath, his eyes narrowing.
He had really nice eyes. Deep and dark and intense. Eyes she could drown in—not that she could drown, but still—
“Logan? Can we? Get ice cream?” Thank the gods for Michael.
The mynah snorted, which focused her scattered at-tention back where it needed to be because she really didn’t need the mynah carrying tales to The Council.
One quick swipe of her tongue over her lips—and, yes, she couldn’t help a brief smile as Logan’s fingers tightened yet again— and Angel forced herself to break eye contact and step away.
“Ice cream sounds good to me.” Angel glanced sur-reptitiously at Rich, who was shaking his head. That didn’t bode well. “But first, why don’t we see if we can find the facilities.”
“What are fa-cil-i-tees? Are they like manatees?” Michael scrunched up his face.
“The restroom, Michael.” Logan indicated an arrow pointing in the direction Rich was also pointing.
“But I’m not tired!” Michael stamped his foot. “I don’t want to take a nap. I want ice cream.”
Logan leaned down to whisper in his ear, then a smile spread across Michael’s face. “Ooooh. Okay. Me, too.” Rich sighed, loud and put-upon, but took off anyway,
headed in the direction they were going.
“I’ll meet you back here,” Angel said, finagling for a few minutes with the bird, waving until they were around the corner.
“What do you want?” she whispered as she skirted the door to the ladies’ room and leaned against the stucco building.
“Your sister sent me.”
“Mariana wouldn’t send a mynah.” Least of all the biggest mouth north and south of the Equator. Her sister had promised to keep her plan a secret for as long as possible; this species was not known for keeping any-one’s secrets. The exact opposite, in fact.
Rich perched his wings on his hips. “Well she did, so live with it. Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”
“Fine. Just keep your voice down. What is it?”
“She said your brother knows what you’ve done, but there’s been some flare-up in the Middle East. Oil spilling by the bargeful, so the High Councilman is going to have to Travel-Chamber it over there. She gives you a few days for the reprieve and thought you’d want to know.”
“Thank the gods for small favors.” Oops. Angel cringed. She certainly didn’t think the gods had caused an oil spill so she could accomplish her goal. That’d be placing too much importance on her mission from their point of view, and the last thing she wanted was any importance—or focus—put on her trip. Not to mention, any more environmental damage.
“Or you could thank me for delivering the news.” Rich tilted his head sideways and nodded at the peanut vendor. The bird worked for peanuts? It was cheap enough.
She bought a small container with the change Michael had given her after he’d bought a soft pretzel—lovely, spongy confection—and poured a handful onto a bench.
Rich just looked at her.
Angel rolled her eyes and set the container there as well.
“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” the mynah said. “I’m all ready for ice cream now.” Michael ran over
to her, stopping quickly when he saw the bird so close to her. “Cool!”
The mynah lifted his head and, with half a peanut in his beak, mimicked Michael. “Cool!”
Michael then started a list of words, hopping up and down with every response from Rich. But Angel wouldn’t put it past the bird to throw something else into the exchange, so she was happy when Logan said, “We should get going, Michael, if you want that ice cream.”
The bird winked at her as they left.