"But it's worse!" Maddy cried. Her head fell back onto his shoulder. She felt sobs tumbling through her and pressed her lips tightly together, hoping to hold them back. "Don't you understand? It isn't like that. It's always worse-worse than I can imagine!"

"Worse? Maddy, what do you mean? Tell me." His voice, like his embrace, was hard, rough, commanding. She shook her head frantically. One of those sobs managed to get away from her, but because she wasn't used to losing control at all, it came out a strangled whimper.

Zack's sigh lifted his chest against her back. Frustration showed in the barely controlled tension in his voice and his hands. "Okay, that's it. Enough for today. Come on."

He walked her to the steps and held her arm while she climbed out of the pool. She stood with her shoulders hunched while he reached for a towel, feeling terrible, like a wretched, miserable failure. Why couldn't she control her reactions, like an adult? Why couldn't she master her childish fears? Why was she such a weak, spineless jellyfish?

"I'm sorry," she said tightly, ignoring the towel he handed her and hugging herself instead. "I tried. I'm sorry. I know you're angry."

"Maddy-" She could see him take a deep breath and fight for patience. "Maddy, I'm not angry with you."

"Yes, you are."

"Okay, all right, I'm angry. But not because you can't put your face in the water. Dammit, it's because you won't talk to me about it, don't you understand? I can't help you if you won't talk to me!"

With unexpected gentleness, he draped the towel around her shoulders and used the ends of it to pull her closer. Maddy's heart began to hurl itself against her ribs. She stared doggedly at the drops of water that had collected in the hollow above his collarbone as he leaned forward and touched her forehead with his lips.

She pressed her lips together and sniffled. "Hey," Zack said, and lifted her chin with a knuckle. "Don't do that. I told you, we're going to beat this thing. You're my personal challenge, babe. If you think you're going to get off this easy, I'd better warn you-I don't give up. You don't get to the Olympics without a pretty good-sized helping of pure, bullheaded stubbornness!"

Maddy still wasn't trusting herself to look at his face, but she heard the smile in his voice and answered it with an unsteady laugh. "I can imagine."

"Yeah…"He gave her a little shake, and this time when he spoke she heard the iron in his voice. "So the next time you come, you make up your mind before you do about two things. One, that you trust me; and two, that you're here to work. Understand? Because I mean to get to the bottom of this thing."

She shivered, and finally lifted her gaze to his face. Her breath caught in a tiny hiccup of wonder. She thought of hard, unyielding things, like stone and steel. She remembered television cameras zooming in tight on a swimmer on the starting platform, poised for the gun, eyes narrowed, jaw muscles clenching. She knew that this man, when he made up his mind to go after something, didn't give up until he'd won it… whether it was an Olympic gold medal, a world's record, a little girl, or a close-held secret.

She realized suddenly that, for all his gentleness and charm, Zack London was a very ruthless man.

"One other thing," he said. He was watching her through half-closed eyes. His arms lay heavy on her shoulders, his fingers loosely interlocked at the back of her neck. "Next time you come here for a lesson, Maddy… come alone."

That surprised her. "But I thought you'd be happy. I thought you were so crazy about Theresa, and so anxious to see her-"

"I am crazy about Theresa, and I was happy to see her tonight. But there's a time and a place for everything."

"I just thought-"

"A swimming lesson isn't recreation. It's work. And when I work, I work, and I expect you to do the same."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"And Maddy." His voice dropped, softened. Behind the veil of his gold-tipped lashes she could see a kind of glow that seemed to catch her up and hold her, so that it was impossible to look away. "When I want to be alone with a woman, I don't want a six-year-old audience, no matter how much I love her. Understand?"

She shook her head in fruitless denial.

"Sure, you do," he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

For an instant Maddy felt his lips on hers, firm and warm and wonderful. Then he jerked his head back and muttered a muffled and chagrined, "Ouch. Damn!"

She touched her own lips with her fingertips, smothering a nervous giggle.

"Not a terribly auspicious beginning," Zack said. "You want to try that again?"

Quite suddenly Maddy knew there wasn't anything in the world she wanted more than to try that again. And if it went as well as she thought it might, again and again and… "Yes, please," she whispered, and tried a smile. "Carefully."

His mouth was all but touching hers. "Carefully," he breathed, and slowly closed the gap.

Maddy had suspected it might be wonderful, but she could never have imagined anything like that kiss. It wasn't what she was used to. Men always seemed to want to… push so, to establish dominance right off the bat, she supposed, because they weren't sure enough of themselves. Their mouths were invariably hot and open, tongues unpleasantly intrusive. She found the whole thing so dismal, she'd all but stopped dating because of it.

Of course, Zack was hampered somewhat by a sore lip. But Maddy knew, she just knew, that the cut lip hadn't cramped his style in the slightest…

There was nothing intrusive, or remotely unpleasant, about the way Zack's lips moved over hers. He seemed to take pleasure in the shape and texture of her mouth, as if it were a rare delicacy to be savored. Maddy stood very still, wrapped in wonder, lips parted and breath suspended, completely caught up in the feeling, the sensation of his mouth sliding over hers. And then unconsciously, she began to move her lips, too, tasting and savoring him as he did her.

She felt his tongue touch the parted edges of her mouth-not intruding, but just there, a natural part of him. It seemed a natural thing to touch it with her own tongue…

It became more than wonderful. It began to be fun. Maddy felt a smile grow and blossom in the warm embrace of his mouth. Tiny effervescent shivers filled all her insides. She said "Mmm," and lifted a hand to touch the side of his face.

His arms came around her and drew her close. She opened her arms, and the towel, and felt their warm, wet bodies come together in what felt strangely like melting. She couldn't seem to tell where she left off and he began. That same melting-merging was happening, too, to their mouths. Somehow he was kissing her fully, deeply, and she couldn't have said how it happened or when it began. She only knew she never wanted it to end.

She didn't want it to end, but it did. A sound, deep and rich as a cello solo, entered her consciousness like the first tiny trickles of rain down a watershed. An instant later it was a torrent of awareness that broke over her like a flood. She pulled away from Zack and stood dazed and shaking, cold with shock.

"What-who is that?" Her jaws felt both tight and unhinged, if that were possible.

"That," Zack said dryly, "is why I'd rather you came alone next time."

"No, I mean-"

"I know what you mean." He had kept one hand on her shoulder, and was gently combing her hair back behind her ear with the other. Now he sighed and let that hand drop to her shoulder too. "It's Dahlia," he said with flat resignation. "Singing to Theresa, I imagine."

Dahlia's voice rolled out through the kitchen window, clear and full-throated. Maddy could feel- could almost hear-the slow rhythms of the gospel beat:

Jesus… loves me. This I know…

Maddy cleared her throat and laughed painfully, turning so that Zack's hands fell away from her shoulders. "My goodness, she's wonderful."

"Yeah," Zack said. He was watching her with that old, smoky look. "She used to be a gospel singer, years ago, before she was married. I think she could have been one of the great ones."

"She still could." Maddy shivered suddenly and violently, and pulled her towel around her.

"Sounds as though you know gospel music."

"I was raised on it," she said, shivering again.

"Let's go inside," Zack said abruptly. "There's a fire… you're getting cold." He dropped his arm across her shoulders.

Maddy didn't shrug his arm away-not quite. She just held her body rigid, refusing to allow herself to be drawn against him, no matter how much she wanted to. She remembered that warm melting together of their bodies, and missed it so much, she felt almost as if part of her were missing. She longed to get that feeling of oneness back again, but she knew it was impossible now. The moment had been destroyed by Dahlia's singing, as abruptly and totally as a bucket of ice water destroys sleep.

"Is Zack your boyfriend?" Theresa's question was off-hand, and accompanied by a monotonous snap-pop, snap-pop, as she fastened and unfastened the flap of her new purse.

Maddy threw her a startled glance. She was driving Theresa back to her foster home through a late June twilight, and it was too dark in the car to see the girl's face. "No! Of course not. Where did you get that idea?"

"He was kissing you."

"Theresa!" Maddy laughed with embarrassment.

"Well, he was. I saw you."

"Oh."

"You know what? Vicki Frownfelter-she's my foster sister-she gots a boyfriend. She told me."

"Really? How old is Vicki?"

"Sixteen. She's ten years older than me," Theresa added proudly. "When I'm sixteen, will I have a boyfriend?"