"Mine," Zack corrected him, glowering.

Larry's smile vanished. "Don't get your hopes up," he cautioned, looking grave and Lincolnesque. "As I've told you, you've either got to go talk to those people-the Sotos-and get them to agree to a private arrangement, or apply through the county. And as a single male parent…"He shrugged. "There's a long waiting list of couples ahead of you. Some of them have been waiting for years."

"Yeah, I know." Zack was frowning at Maddy, who was still steadfastly refusing to look at him. Dammit, what was wrong with her? She had to know he was trying to catch her eye!

"Where is Theresa now?" he asked softly, stubbornly keeping his gaze on Maddy's averted face.

Larry, with the kind of perceptiveness that made him such a good therapist, remained silent, so Maddy had no choice but to answer. Zack saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deeply drawn breath, as if she needed to fortify herself in order to talk to him.

"She's with a foster family," she said. "A really super family, named Frownfelter." She smiled, and added softly, "When I went to pick her up for the meeting with the judge, she was up to her elbows in peanut-butter-cookie dough."

Larry chuckled, but Zack refused to be sidetracked.

"Where is she now? How is she getting home?"

"Mr. Frownfelter picked her up and took her back. It was his lunch hour…"

Her voice trailed off. It was odd, he thought. First she hadn't seemed to want to look at him at all, and now that he'd established eye contact with her, she couldn't seem to break it. Matter of fact, neither could he.

Not that he wanted to. She had such nice eyes. Gray, rather than blue, which he decided he liked better, because they were softer. And she had very dark lashes for someone as blond as she. Of course, he knew very well that for the price of a bottle of mascara anyone could have dark eyelashes, but hers seemed too soft and too thick to be anything but real. As a matter of fact, now that he thought about it, he didn't think she put much of anything on her face. Her skin… She had really nice skin, and like everything else about her, it made him imagine how it would feel against his own.

"Well…" Larry's cough was meant to be discreet, and sounded amused. "Time to get back to work. Maddy, can I give you a ride back to the clinic?"

Maddy actually shook herself, like someone trying to wake up. "Oh. No, thanks anyway, Larry. I have my car here."

"Right. Forgot. Okay, see you back at the ranch. And you hang in there, Zack. Patience, remember." Larry went loping across the courtyard toward the parking lot. Maddy turned as if to follow, but Zack put a hand on her arm.

"See you tonight?" he asked.

"What?" She seemed flustered. It gave her a nice touch of pink across the cheekbones.

"Your next swimming lesson." His voice felt furry in his throat. "This evening, same time, same station- right?"

"Oh. Right." She cleared her throat nervously. Good grief, he thought. Was she still afraid of him? "I'll see you later, I guess…"

"Yeah, you will."

"Okay then, "bye."

" 'Bye."

Scintillating conversations they had, the two of them, Zack thought sourly as he watched her make her way carefully across the courtyard's uneven tile paving. It frustrated him that he wasn't getting to know her as fast as he wanted to. He'd thought if he could just get her away from her puppets…

It occurred to him that Theresa might have somehow gotten in the way. He didn't know why, but ever since last night, something had definitely come between him and Maddy.

Theresa. Thirty days. Damn! He had just thirty days in which to find the stomach and the self-control to go to those people-the Sotos-and persuade them to relinquish custody directly to him. Either that, he thought with amusement, or he had thirty days in which to get married and move himself up in the county adoption board's eligibility ratings.

A short, ironic laugh escaped him. The only woman he'd even thought of in those terms in two years was just escaping around a hibiscus hedge, dashing for the parking lot for all the world as if she were escaping from him. He had a feeling it would take a lot more than thirty days to bring her around to thinking along the same lines!

It sure looked as if his best bet were the aunt and uncle.

"Hey! You."

Zack looked around and muttered, "Speak of the devil," under his breath. Theresa's uncle was bulldozing his way across the courtyard toward him, with his wife clinging to his arm like a sea anchor.

"You're the guy from the pool, aren't you?" Soto said. "The swimming teacher." He managed to make the identification sound like an insult.

"Yes, I am," Zack said, proud of his calm. "And as a matter of fact, I'd like to talk to you. It's about-"

"Well, buddy, I've got a few things I'd like to say to you too. You're the guy who started this whole thing, aren't you?"

"Joe-"

"Shut up, Carleen!"

The man had shaken his wife off and was facing Zack across a few feet of tiled courtyard. His face was dark and angry, and his arms hung at his sides at the ready, like a gunfighter's.

Zack knew very well that at this point, discretion dictated a strategic withdrawal. So what did he do? He folded his arms across his chest and said very politely, "I reported it, if that's what you are making reference to."

"Look, I don't know who the hell you think you are, butting into a man's private business. I got a right to discipline a kid who smart-mouths me in my own home, you got that? You made a lot of trouble for me, you know that? I got cops hassling me, I could lose my job… Hey, I really oughta let you have it!"

"Joe!"

"Oh, now, I don't think you'd do that," Zack drawled. "I'm not a little kid."

He'd almost expected it. Hell, he'd probably invited it. But it was a shock to him anyway. He hadn't been hit in anger since fourth grade, when a kid named Hank Plunkett had bloodied his nose and given him a fat lip with one punch. It had come as a shock to him then, too, and he'd reacted reflexively. His instinctive response had left poor old Hank sitting in a puddle of water, clutching his middle and gasping like a netted fish. At that point Zack had touched his face, discovered blood, and had run for home, howling his head off.

It was interesting to discover how little had changed in twenty years.

His reflexes were still good, and his instincts for self-defense about the same. This time his assailant wound up in a fountain rather than a rain puddle, but his posture and facial expression reminded Zack a lot of Hank Plunkett. So did the sounds he was making.

At that point Zack touched his own lip, discovered blood, and decided it was time he headed on home.

The only difference twenty years made, as far as he could see, was that he wasn't howling his head off.

He did stop to mutter an apology to Theresa's aunt, who was standing frozen with shock, her mouth hanging open. He felt genuinely sorry for her. She had a tough time ahead of her if she stayed with that guy-As Zack walked to his car he wasn't feeling particularly proud of himself, but he wasn't ashamed, either. He told himself he hadn't been spoiling for a fight, and in fact had behaved with remarkable restraint. He just couldn't decide whether he was glad or sorry Maddy hadn't been there to see it.

Then it occurred to him. Damn! he thought. There went his chance for a private deal!

He gave a sardonic laugh that hurt his swelling lip, winced, and muttered, "Ouch!" And he thought, I guess this means I'll have to get married after all____________________

Zack didn't really mean that. Even if Maddy-or any other woman-had been willing, he'd never have done a thing like that to her. As far as he was concerned, there was only one good reason to marry, and that was love. He'd loved Carol, and she'd loved him, and they'd both loved Josh. He'd never marry again unless he could give that kind of wholehearted, unselfish love. A woman had a right to expect that much.

He knew why Larry Whitlaw had asked how long it had been since Carol's accident. The psychologist was telling him it was high time he stopped mourning and got on with his life. The thing was, he didn't feel as if he were still mourning, and he had an idea his life was moving right along whether he was ready for it to do so or not. Just because he wasn't actively looking for someone didn't mean he was avoiding relationships. When and if the right person came along, he was pretty sure he'd know it.

Just as he'd known that Theresa was the child for him. Not to take Josh's place-you couldn't ever replace one child with another. Kids weren't interchangeable. Until that day at the pool, when he'd squatted down in front of that tiny little girl and come face to face with those dark saucer eyes, he hadn't even realized how much he'd missed having somebody to love. Somebody who really needed him. When he met the woman he could love, maybe not exactly the same way he'd loved Carol but at least as deeply, he'd recognize her too.

He had a sudden, discomfitting vision, a memory, that was as clear as a video-taped replay: a pair of long legs, not deeply tanned, but creamy smooth; an absolutely spectacular body that looked as if it had been dipped in India ink; a face so frozen, it had lost all expression, except for the fear in the eyes…

It struck him that it would really be funny, wouldn't it, if it turned out he'd found both loves in the same moment?

Dahlia looked up suspiciously as he invaded her kitchen in search of a snack. "What are you grinning about, Zachary?" she asked.

With maturity and originality he singsonged, "I'll never tell." Still grinning, he snagged a handful of the cheese she was grating into a bowl and deftly evaded her attempt to slap his hand. "What's this for?"