Catch of a Lifetime Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  From: In Over Her Head

  From: Wild Blue Under

  J U D I F E N N E L L

  Copyright © 2010 by Judi Fennell

  Cover and internal design © 2010 by Sourcebooks, Inc. Cover design by Anne Cain

  Cover images © Mariusz Jurgielewicz/Crestock.com; Dreamstime.com

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Source books, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  FAX: (630) 961-2168

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  Printed and bound in the United States of America

  QW 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Beth Hill—Your incredible generosity is staggering, humbling, wonderful, and so very much appreciated. I

  am honored to call you my friend.

  Steph—Without your honesty and friendship, who knows where I'd be.

  And, always, to my husband and children—Your love, support, and faith enable me to do this.

  Chapter 1

  THERE WAS A NAKED WOMAN ON HIS BOAT.

  Logan Hardington shook his head and rubbed his eyes, but the picture didn't change. Lady Godiva was sprawled over a pillow on his deck, a navy blue blanket draped over the bottom half of the curviest ass he'd seen in a long while.

  Long, blonde—almost yellow—loose curls tumbled over creamy shoulders all the way down to that blanket, the ends pooling in the dimples above her ass, some strands twirling along the visible portion of her cleft near the light blue markings of a faded bruise.

  Shapely legs, one slightly bent, only a shade or two darker than the fiberglass boat deck, trailed from beneath the blanket, one small foot flexing in the soft morning breeze. A hint of upturned nose peeked from beneath the blonde jumble, pink lips pursed in sleep, slender fingers disappearing beneath her cheek. He wondered what color her eyes were.

  And why she was naked.

  On his boat.

  Hungry gulls cawed overhead, but she didn't stir. The wake from McKye's charter jostled the Mir-a-Mar as the day's fishing tour set out, but that didn't rouse her either.

  Oh hell. She was probably a drunk co-ed who'd followed some "sailor" home. He'd seen that walk of shame many mornings. Didn't these people think of the repercussions?

  Logan looked back down the pier where his son, Michael, chatted with Tony as the wizened old salt chopped chum, and Logan smiled. Ah, the things he would have loved to have seen as a boy. The things he should have been able to show Michael from day one—

  And would have if his ex-girlfriend had only men tioned a little thing like a pregnancy…

  Logan tamped down the anger at Christine—who, according to his son, now went by Rainbow for God only-knew-what reasons—and focused instead on the next female to make him wonder what men ever saw in women.

  Then Lady Godiva moved and the blanket slipped to the side and Logan knew exactly what men saw in women.

  But not what he wanted his son to see. No matter how much Logan wanted to savor the image.

  "Hey, um… Miss." Logan hunkered down and shook one of those shapely legs.

  She mumbled something and flipped her head the other way, a tangle of hair tickling his arm. Logan pulled his hand back and captured the curls as they slid across his palm. Silky. Soft. The way a woman's hair should be.

  He blinked. What the hell was he doing thinking about her hair? She was naked, for God's sake, and his six-year-old was going to get one hell of a birthday pres ent if she didn't wake up and cover herself.

  "Miss, wake up." Logan shook her shoulder, glancing back to Michael. Thank God Tony had a ton of fish tales to keep the boy occupied.

  The woman sighed, and her shoulder slid beneath his fingertips. Her skin was just as soft and silky as her hair.

  He should not be noticing.

  "Lady, you really need to get up." Not that getting up was a problem he seemed to be having. Christ. How long had it been if he was getting hard over the naked back of a lush?

  Then she rolled over.

  One lone curl encircled a taut, pink nipple.

  Oh, boy…

  No problem getting up now.

  A naked woman… Right there in front of him. A naked goddess, more like. A gift from the gods just for him.

  Except, of course, there was Michael…

  Logan shook his head and reached for the blanket that had slithered to the deck atop some crushed shells and dried seaweed. Fighting with himself the entire time, he tossed it over her.

  "What in the sea?" The blonde bombshell awoke as if she'd been tossed overboard, sputtering and spitting the blanket away from those perfect lips, the most incredible eyes widening above that mouth. The color of the sea… aquamarine. He'd never seen anything like them.

  "Um, hi?" The corners of her eyes turned up along with her mouth. A dimple winked high on her left cheek.

  "Oh." Logan cleared his throat. She didn't sound drunk. "Hi. I'm Logan Hardington." He rocked back on his heels. "Who are you?"

  "I'm, ah… Angel. Tritone."

  She was an angel all right. Straight from Heaven, via the bowels of Hell. A temptress. Flushed with the haze of sleep, innocence and sensuality stared at him from those ocean eyes, and she had the most delectable lips he'd ever seen. Slender arms clutched the blanket to breasts that spilled from the sides, leaving barely anything to the imagination. Not that he needed to imagine since he remembered every splendid inch of those heavenly delights. If this woman wasn't walking temptation, he didn't know what was.

  "So, Angel Tritone, did you have one too many last night?" Rem
ember that, Hardington. No matter what kind of influence she'd be on you, she'd be a bad one on your son.

  Having to kick her off his boat definitely sucked. But he was a father now. A responsible, practical father who didn't fool around with sexy, naked women on his boat.

  A horny, recently celibate father who'd love to fool around with this sexy, naked woman on his boat.

  But who wouldn't.

  Damn. This responsibility thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

  Angel cocked her head to the side, curls spilling over her shoulders in perfect, centerfold-fantasy mode, and he had to work really hard to keep his groan from escaping.

  "One too many what?" Her tongue flicked over her lips again in an unself-conscious and utterly sexy way.

  He had to get her off his boat. For sanity's sake. Propriety's, too. Not to mention an impressionable six-year-old's. Logan stood up and held out his hand. "Never mind. Let's get you up and at 'em."

  "At who?" She reached for his hand.

  Logan forgot the question the minute her fingers touched his. Hell, he almost forgot his own name, and the six-year-old down the pier was fast becoming a dis tant memory.

  Everything was becoming a distant memory, fuzzy and out of focus, because the moment her skin met his, everything else faded to black. Fire, hot and long and needy, sped through his fingers to every extremity, zip ping along his nerve endings like a match to gunpowder; the heavy thud of his heart blocking out the call of the birds and the sounds of the marina.

  Then she tugged on his hand to stand, and he had to steady himself so he wouldn't fall on top of her—but man, did he want to. Especially when the blanket slid down her body to pool at her feet.

  "You're naked," slipped out. Since making that comment was better than falling on top of her, he wasn't too upset.

  "I'm what?" Five-foot-nothing dipped her blonde head forward, the curls now caressing his wrist, one encircling his forearm, and Logan had to focus on his breathing. He'd never had such an intense reaction to a woman. Then again, he'd never seen a woman like this before in his life.

  Pink stained her cheeks when she glanced back at him and, dog that he was, he compared the color to the tips of her breasts. Only for a second, but it was enough—her cheeks were lighter pink.

  But the curls between her legs perfectly matched those brushing her hips.

  "Why are you naked?" Oh hell. What kind of a ques tion was that? "I mean, what are you doing here?"

  "Sleeping?" She moistened her lips quickly, with just a hint of pink tongue—which was more than enough to get him thinking about that tongue…

  "I gathered that. The question is why?"

  "Oh." She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck, and glanced toward the ocean. "Well, I was swimming, and… and there was a shark. Yes. A shark. And he was coming after me. So I climbed aboard your boat, and, well," she shrugged her shoulders and a few strands of hair fell across her breasts, one curling again on her nipple, "here I am."

  Logan peeled his eyes off her breasts to meet her gaze. "Here you are."

  "Yes."

  A moment of silence followed. Well, silence between them. The gulls were making a hell of a ruckus. Logan cleared his throat, then picked up the blanket and handed it to her. "So, is there any particular reason you're naked? Where are your clothes?"

  She gathered the blanket against her chest. Not that Logan needed help with that image or anything… "My clothes. Yes. Um. Well, I was swimming—"

  Right. Skinny-dipping. "Alone?"

  He was asking solely so he could get her off his boat and back where she belonged; that was it. No other reason.

  "Not alone. There was the shark."

  "But what happened to your things?"

  "Oh. They're gone."

  "Gone? Everything? Money, clothes, whatever? Somebody take them while you were swimming?"

  She looked away again toward the ocean, her eyes blinking rapidly. "Yes. Everything's gone."

  So he had a naked, destitute woman on his boat. And a six-year-old who'd be here any minute.

  Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Look, I can give you some money. Get you a ticket back where you came from—where are you from?"

  She licked her lips again and turned those stunning eyes on him. "Have you ever been to Kansas?"

  "Me? No."

  "Oh. Well, I'm from Kansas."

  "You do realize you're a bit of a ways away from Kansas, right?"

  She shifted her feet to balance on the rocking deck as another charter left the dock. "Yes. About four-hundred and-thirty leagues or so."

  Leagues? Only if she was swimming, and that he'd like to see from the middle of the country.

  "So what are you doing here if you're from Kansas?"

  "Studying."

  "You're a student?" He'd figured her for a little older than college. Maybe she was a grad student.

  And he cared, why?

  She looked back at the ocean. "I'm… doing a field study for the summer."

  Ah, yes. Older. "What field?"

  "Biology. Maritime biology."

  "Don't you mean marine biology?"

  "Yes," she said, licking her lips again. He should probably get her a drink. "Of course. That's what I meant. Marine biology."

  The boat rocked again and the blanket slid to the side, showing off her shapely leg in all its perfection, toes to thigh.

  He should probably get himself a drink. Preferably a stiff one—

  Not going there.

  "So… where are you staying? I'll call you a cab." Anything to get her off this boat.

  "Actually, I just arrived. I don't have a place to stay."

  Logan was about to suggest a local apartment com plex when he heard Michael yell, "Thanks, Tony!" and decided he'd worry about where she was going to stay later. Right now he had a six-year-old he didn't want to have to explain the birds and the bees—or naked women—to, so he yanked his T-shirt over his head and skimmed it over Angel's. Yes, it hung on her like a tent, but at least she was covered.

  Not that it diminished the image burned into his brain, nor the incredibly hot vision of her in his cloth ing and nothing else, with her hair askew and that blush on her cheeks.

  With his faded green T-shirt bringing out the green swirl in her eyes, the woman could be a mermaid come to life.

  "Logan! Look what Tony gave me!" Michael ran down the dock holding up the perfectly filleted car cass of one of Tony's recent catches in one hand and keeping his baseball cap on his head with the other hand. From Michael's abrupt halt and the way his mouth dropped open, Logan knew the moment his son saw Angel.

  Great. How was he going to explain this?

  "Hey, Michael. Why don't you come say hi to Angel?"

  What else was he going to say? Come meet the naked student? The kid would be signing up for col lege tomorrow.

  "But… how? What…?" The fish skeleton hit the dock and fell apart, but Michael didn't seem to notice. His eyes were glued to Angel.

  "Hi… Michael? I'm Angel." Even her voice was beautiful—like a song dancing along the crests of the waves.

  Oh, hell. Where had that fanciful thought come from? Logan never spouted poetry to beautiful women, prefer ring to keep every relationship real and out of the realm of fairy tale, though more than one woman had called him her Prince Charming. Usually right before he broke up with her.

  "Ang… Angel?" Poor tongue-tied Michael. Logan could totally empathize.

  "She's… um… a friend." One he'd just met, who didn't wear clothes and showed up out of nowhere, but the kid was six. It should fly.

  "Your friend?" Okay, perhaps the incredulity in his son's voice indicated a need for more proof.

  "Um… yeah." He focused on Michael. "She's new in town and was using the boat because she doesn't have a place to stay."