"Tell me something," he said, watching her with a thoughtful appraisal that made her self-consciousness even worse. "How did you get into this? Were you an abused child yourself?"

"Of course not!" She stared at him. "What on earth makes you think-"

He shrugged and said, "Sorry," but didn't soften his unnerving scrutiny. "It seemed to make sense. You have a pathological fear of water, and that kind of phobia usually comes from a real trauma of some kind, doesn't it? And then, you're unusually shy for such a beautiful woman-"

"I'm not!"

"Not shy, or not beautiful?" He was smiling at her now, a rare smile that touched his eyes with a soft sparkle.

Words failed her. Again. She felt gauche and stupid. She felt thirteen, with adolescent males staring, red-faced, at her bosom. What could she say that wouldn't sound either false or egotistical? She was shy, and she was supposedly beautiful. She'd been told often enough that she was. How could she ever hope to explain to anyone that she just didn't think of herself that way? On an unexpected tidal wave of memory came the image of her own nine-year-old face in the bathroom mirror, pale and round-eyed, trying not to wince as her mother's hands pulled and tugged her masses of corn-silk hair into tight, stiff braids. And above her own face was her mother's, thin-lipped with disapproval, her voice cold, her words punctuated by the jerking of her hands. "Pretty is as pretty does, Amanda. The devil himself can put on a pretty face."

Maddy took a deep breath and said evenly, "I'm not very good with snappy comebacks. And I'm not very comfortable with men who are self-assured and… glib."

"Glib?" He looked genuinely surprised. "That's the last thing I want to be. I'm just trying to get to know you better, that's all. I made an observation and came to a very natural conclusion. You certainly are beautiful, and you seem shy, at least around me."

"I guess maybe I am," she murmured, embarrassed by her churlishness. "Around you."

"Why?" He leaned forward suddenly, intent on her answer. When she only shrugged and muttered evasively, he prompted, "I don't make you nervous, do I? Why, because of the swimming? The fact that you fainted in my arms? What?"

Maddy stared at him, wondering if the man could possibly be real. "You're… Zack London!" To her, at least, that explained everything.

He made a disgusted noise and sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head. Corry gave a small meow of complaint and blinked in a resigned sort of way before rearranging himself on Zack's lap. After a moment Zack heaved a sigh, and said, "Maddy, I'm just a guy who worked real hard and practiced a lot, and that was a long time ago. Don't confuse me with some glossy image you saw on a billboard once upon a time. That wasn't me up there. I'm just a small-town guy. I'm nobody you should be intimidated by." He shook his head, and laughter crinkled the corners of his eyes for an instant. "If anything, I'd say you'd be accustomed to doing the intimidating."

Maddy found herself laughing, too, but with self-deprecation. "I guess I do intimidate some people, for some reason. I don't know why. Maybe because I'm so tall."

"Or so blond," Zack said with a straight face.

"But that isn't me either," she said earnestly. She touched her chest. "In here, I'm just… Amanda from Indiana." She shrugged helplessly, wondering if he would understand.

For a minute she thought he wouldn't. Then, to Corry's disgust, he stood up and held out his hand. "Hello, Amanda from Indiana," he said briskly. "I'm Zachary. Nice to meet you."

Startled, and then entranced, Maddy slowly stood and placed her hand in his and felt its warmth flow through her. She heard herself say, "Nice to meet you, Zachary."

He didn't let go of her hand. "Overs?" he asked softly.

"Overs." Her own voice was breathy, and very faint.

"Good. Now, tell me, Amanda from Indiana, just what do you do?"

"I'm a social worker," she answered promptly, getting into the spirit of the thing. "Oh-and I make puppets."

"Great! We have a lot in common. I sell sporting goods. And I teach swimming."

She smiled, and felt the smile blossom into laughter. It felt good. "How nice! Children or adults?"

"Children." His eyes caught hers and held on. "And in rare and very special cases… adults."

She stared back at him, her smile fading, hopelessly tongue-tied once more.

"Maddy, I'd like to teach you to swim."

"Oh, no-I couldn't." She pulled her hand from his warm and oddly comforting grasp, and, because her hands felt so empty, picked up Bosley. Instead of fitting the dragon over her hand, she hugged it to her chest. Its head flopped forlornly over her arms. What was it about this man that made her feel so naked and exposed that she needed to keep something solid between them?

"Why not?" he asked. He was frowning at her, quietly implacable.

"Well… because…" She fumbled to a stop, then asked uncertainly, "You don't mean private lessons?"

"Yes, I do. At my house. My pool."

"Oh, no." She took a step backward, shaking her head firmly. "No, I really couldn't. It wouldn't be-"

Zack sighed. "Dorothy, haven't you noticed? This isn't Kansas. And I'm not the wicked witch of the West. I've got nothing in mind except teaching you to swim."

"Oh. Well, of course not. I mean…" How foolish of her to think… whatever she'd thought. She didn't know what to think, that was the problem. In fact, she felt very much as if she had been hit by a tornado. The idea of learning to swim was terrifying; the idea of Zack London's teaching her to swim was both terrifying and exhilarating. She licked dry lips and murmured, "I can't afford you."

His gaze was following the movement of her tongue across her lips, but his expression was carefully dispassionate. "Did I say anything about charges? I'd consider you a professional challenge."

She said faintly, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes." When she still felt as if she'd been turned to stone, he carefully removed Bosley from her clutches and took both of her cold hands in his. "Maddy… look. I told you before, I know it took courage for you to show up at that pool the other day. I admire you for that. I know what this must mean to you. You need to learn to swim, not just for all the usual reasons, but because you owe it to yourself. And I'm the one who can teach you. If you'll trust me. Will you let me, Maddy? Please?"

She wanted to trust him. She did trust him, even though she wondered why it seemed so important to him that she learn to swim. Why should he care?

Then she wondered, why she should care what his motives were. She wanted so badly to learn to swim, to overcome her awful fear of water, and here one of the world's all-time great swimmers was offering- was begging-to teach her! And she really was sure she could trust him. She knew that a man still in the process of healing from a terrible emotional wound wasn't likely to be looking for new entanglements. So what was she hesitating for?

Besides, a thought had just struck her. Now that Theresa's case had been turned over to the proper authorities, there wouldn't be any reason for Zack to contact her again. That realization hit her with a sensation that felt a lot like panic.

"All right," she heard herself say. "I'll do it."

"Good girl. We can start… how's tomorrow evening? Early. Can you come right after work?"

She cleared her throat. "I have flexible hours."

"Six o'clock, then. Still plenty of daylight left." He grinned suddenly. "Although, come to think of it, there's no reason we couldn't do this at night. A pool can be beautiful at night, with the underwater lights on."

"Six is fine," Maddy said quickly, remembering the lighted pools she'd seen, and the crystal-clear view of the bodies in them. "Where do you live?"

"I'll draw you a map. It's up by the golf course; might be hard to find." He let go of her hands at last and picked up the pad and pencil by the telephone. After scribbling rapidly for a few minutes he tore the top sheet off the pad and handed it to her.

With a curious mixture of excitement and dread, Maddy took it and whispered, "Thank you."

"Now, don't flake out on me." He reached out to touch the side of her face. "Promise you'll come."

"I'll be there," she murmured absently. She'd just noticed that his eyelashes were very long. They didn't look long, because the tips were bleached golden. That seemed utterly fascinating to her. "I promise."

"You'd better be there. You're a personal challenge to me, you know, not just a professional one."

"What do you mean?" Perhaps she'd better pay attention. She was already beginning to wonder if she'd been wrong about his emotional condition.

"Yeah…" His thumb was lightly stroking her jaw, moving back and forth in an absent sort of way. He didn't even seem aware of what he was doing. "Someday, you know, you're going to trust me enough to tell me what happened to make you so afraid of water."

A shiver jolted Maddy, dispelling the last wisps of fog. "You seem awfully sure of yourself," she retorted.

"Oh, I am." His hand dropped away, and as he turned to go he added cryptically, "For the first time in a long, long time."

He left her shivering in a warm golden shaft of sunshine.

From his car, Zack looked thoughtfully back at the odd little house. With no windows, at least she couldn't look out and catch him gazing at her home like a smitten adolescent. And wouldn't that frighten her to death!

A stroke of genius, he thought, coming up with the swimming-lessons idea as a way to get past that guard of hers. Not only would she be vulnerable and dependent in the water, but it was one place she couldn't take along those damn puppets!