Now, as he pulled her close, he felt the shape of her against his own body; the shape of her, not of breasts and belly and thighs. She trembled a little as her arms encircled him, and he felt the steady thumping of her heart against his chest. He held her very tightly for a few moments until the tension in her eased. They both shifted, adjusting the fit, settling closer to each other. Zack leaned back comfortably against the counter, pulling her with him, then touched his lips to her hair and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You were right-I was childish." She stirred restlessly, and he tightened his arms around her for a second or two.

"No, you're not childish. I shouldn't have said that."

"Well… whatever you call it. You were right, I couldn't face it. I didn't know, Zack." Her words came rapidly, as if she had to get it all said while she still had the nerve. "I didn't know until I started working at the Crisis Center. And then I didn't want to believe it-accept it. I couldn't." The anguish in her voice was raw and real. "They're my parents, Zack, the only family I have. They love me. I don't want to hate them. They really didn't know what they were doing to me. I didn't know, until I came to the clinic. I just thought it was me. That I'd been a bad kid…"

Zack just held her and let her talk, stroking her back in an idle, petting way, while her words put haunting pictures in his mind. Amanda… beautiful, fairy-princess child; older parents, stern, righteous, no-nonsense, and God-fearing. To them she must have seemed like a foundling child-the devil's foundling.

The miracle was, he supposed, that they'd done so little permanent damage. But then, he was discovering that kids could be remarkably resilient. Oh, yeah, Maddy was afraid of water, and even afraid of her own beauty. And she'd had to find a way to hide her natural sparkle from everybody-behind those puppets of hers. But fears could be overcome, with patience. Her beauty and sparkle were still there- that was the miracle. All she needed was for someone to make her believe it was okay, even wonderful, to be Amanda Gordon.

Zack knew quite suddenly that he wanted to be that person.

"…I thought it was bad, somehow, being pretty," Maddy was saying.

He leaned back so she could see his smile. "You don't still think so, do you?"

"No…" She touched her forehead to his chin, and he felt it crease as she struggled to understand and explain. "Not in my head. But in my heart-well, it's just… I don't like to be told I am, for instance. It never makes me feel good to be complimented on my looks, and I think it's supposed to. Sometimes I wish…"

"Wish what? That you looked different? Everybody probably wishes that at one time or another. But let me tell you what I believe, okay? Free of charge." This time he took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up, so he could look into her eyes. "You get what you get, period, and that's a gift. Rejecting it is like rejecting your gift."

She laughed. "Bad manners."

"Yeah, exactly. So the best you can do is accept your gift with style and grace and go on from there. You can make the most you can out of what you get, or you can just let it all go to pot." He grinned wryly. "Unfortunately, sooner or later, most people do let it go to pot-literally."

She pulled away from him and put her hand on his flat stomach. "You haven't," she observed, smiling.

It was an ingenuous move. He didn't think she had any idea what it would do to him. Getting a tight rein on his self-control, he put his hand over hers and kept it right there against his belly, a warm and intimate prisoner.

"No," he said, taking hold of her eyes as firmly as he had her hand, "I take good care of my gift. And so, obviously, in spite of everything, do you- No, Maddy. For Pete's sake, don't flinch!"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's a reflex."

He put his free hand on her neck, cradling her head, and gave her a little shake. "Don't reject your gift!" And then to his astonishment, he heard himself add, through tense jaws, "… like Carol did."

"Carol?" She was watching him intently now, a frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. "You mean your wife?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She was beautiful too. Worked as a model before we were married. She took good care of herself, until after we lost Josh. Then she quit caring. I couldn't make her care-nothing could. She tried everything she could to ruin what she had-ate, drank, you name it. And she finally succeeded, in spades. Ran her car into a telephone pole about a mile from here." Maddy's cheek felt cold in his palm. Her eyes were wide with horror, but Zack felt merely sad. It was all long past. There was no more horror left for him. Just a vast sadness, and a deep, lonely sense of regret.

Maddy licked her lips and asked, "Josh… was your son?"

"Yeah." He looked down at the soft place where her throat began and saw it move as she swallowed. He stared at that spot as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"Please… tell me how it happened."

It didn't occur to him until later that she was asking him a question she'd never asked a living soul before without a puppet on her arm to buffer her from the pain in the answer. Her hands were at his waist, touching him, holding him. Her gaze was clinging to his. She was opening herself to him, and taking his pain into herself…

"Maddy," he said. His throat felt raw. "It was just one of those things that happen. We were both there, and there wasn't anything either of us could do. He was riding his tricycle-Josh knew he wasn't supposed to ride his tricycle on the deck. But he… uh… rode his tricycle right into the pool. We didn't see it, so we can only suppose he was going too fast around and around, and couldn't make the corner. Anyway, he must have hit his head going in, and then was tangled up in the tricycle. Carol heard the splash-I pulled him out. We resuscitated him, but his lungs were full of water, and he was brain-injured besides. He died three days later."

Maddy was finally able to tear her gaze from him. It was drawn, against her will, toward the pool.

"We were living in Beverly Hills then," he said, and saw relief in her eyes as she looked back at him. "I bought this house because of Carol… hoping she'd start to take an interest in golf again-in something. You see, she never got over the guilt. We both blamed ourselves-people do, at times like that. We both saw counselors, together and separately…" He shrugged. "With me it helped; with her it didn't."

Maddy whispered, "Zack," and put her arms around him. He took a huge breath and folded her into his arms, and again they just stood still for a time, holding each other. After a bit Zack chuckled, and blew a tickling wisp of her hair away from his nose.

"I guess this is what's called 'catharsis,' " he said.

She sniffed. "It's called 'getting rid of all the bad stuff at once.' "

"Right."

"Zack, I don't think I'll ever drink champagne again."

"Why? You're not sorry this happened, are you?" He tipped her face up again so he could see it.

"No."

"Me either. In fact, I'm damn glad."

"Me too." He looked at her for a moment longer; then he kissed her. Just a little kiss, a kiss of comfort and friendship.

At least… it started that way.

Her mouth was petal-soft, and tasted, rather surprisingly, of toothpaste. He felt her sigh as her arms lifted and wound around his neck.

It hit him then like a blast from a twelve-gauge shotgun, both barrels. One minute he was holding Amanda, person and friend. The next minute his arms were full of Maddy, the woman whose beauty had stirred him from the very first, and rekindled fires he'd thought dead. He felt the fullness of her breasts like brands against his chest, felt the sweet inward curve that brought her belly flat against his, felt the sliding pressure of her thighs aligning with his. There was a vast ache in his loins; a shudder ran through him; self-control fled. He groaned and dropped his arms low, pulling her hard into his body. His mouth found that soft place on her throat. Her body was all warmth and yielding softness. He heard her whisper something-his name?-as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

It was what he'd wanted, what he'd planned for. Maddy pliant and vulnerable in his arms, Maddy responding to his passion with nothing standing between them-not a little girl, not her puppets.

And he couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. Stupid to think he could ever have been satisfied with sex and nothing else. Stupid to think he'd be content to possess her body without knowing and treasuring all she was.

And he'd not only been incredibly stupid, he'd been arrogant. He'd been so certain he'd know, right away, like a light bulb coming on in his head, the way he'd known about wanting Theresa. Why hadn't he realized that loving a woman would be a whole lot more complicated than loving a child? More complicated… and too easy to confuse and mistake for other things…

Well, he'd wanted Maddy just where he had her right now. In fact, though it shamed him to admit it, he'd maneuvered her here with the same concentrated determination he'd always put into achieving anything he'd ever wanted. And now that he'd won, he knew he couldn't do it to her. He wanted more from her than a yielding body-a lot more.

The effort it took to control his desires left him vibrating like a plucked string. His jaws felt as if they'd been wired shut. He managed to grate out, "Maddy," and pulled her arms from around his neck.

"Maddy," he said, praying she would understand, "I think I'd better take you home now."