Did Dave mention her?”

“It’s right there, next to the photo.”

“What?” Max shook his head. “What photo?”

His mother pointed to the list of names in the yearbook. “Angela Weatherby. That’s her name. Kathy Weatherby is my tennis partner.”

Max stared at the picture for a long moment, dumbfounded. If he squinted his eyes, he could al most believe this was the woman who’d shared his bed last night. He bit back a curse. What the hell did this mean?

When they’d met, Angela had acted as if they’d been strangers. How could she have gone through four years of high school without- No, everyone in school knew who he was. And that wasn’t just ego talking, it was the truth. He’d been class president his junior year and student body president his senior year.

His brain scrambled to make sense of it. What had seemed so simple last night was suddenly incredibly complicated. Max had to question Angela’s motives and rewind every comment she made. Was this part of some clever manipulation?

Some of his buddies in the league had some experience with stalkers. Was Angela one of those? He slowly worked through the events of their short time together. No, she’d given him a bogus phone number. Why would she do that? Unless she knew his interest would be piqued and he’d come looking.

And she had been evasive about her background. She’d never mentioned where she went to high school or college. “Can I keep this?” he asked.

“Of course. Now, you’ll be coming to the barbecue, right?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on the photo.

“Alone?”

“Yes,” Max replied. “I’m very anxious to meet this girl. There’s something very familiar about her. In fact, I feel as if I know her quite…intimately.” He stood up. “I have to go, Mom.”

“But we’ve barely started our coffee.”

Max bent over and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I have a lot of things to do today. Don’t worry, I’ll walk home.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll see you a week from Saturday. Come about one. And wear something nice. I hate seeing you in those silly basketball shorts all the time. Wear a shirt. In fact, buy a new shirt. Then send it to the cleaners to be pressed. And no jeans. Khakis.”

“Are you going to pick out my underwear for me, too?” Max asked.

“You don’t have to be snippy,” she warned.

“Sorry. I’m tired.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she said, her expression softening.

“And that’s all I want for you, Mom. I’ll be at your barbecue. I promise.” He walked out of the coffee shop and onto the busy sidewalk. For a long moment, Max wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He wasn’t even sure how he felt. Angry? Confused? Shocked?

He pulled his sunglasses down and headed east, toward the lake. “Let’s review,” he murmured. “I didn’t know her, but she knew me…maybe. We went to high school and college together, but we never-” He cursed softly. “We might have met.” There was a reason he’d thought he knew her that first night. They had met. But when?

“Think.” He’d only been in college for two years. She probably hadn’t looked much different from her high school graduation picture, with the exception of the braces. And maybe the glasses. She’d told him she’d been the president of the Latin Club. Max stopped and paged through the yearbook until he found the photo. “There she is,” he murmured. “Angela Weatherby. President.”

This was all too strange. Like it had all been planned out ahead of time. He’d known women-baseball groupies-who’d gone to great lengths to meet him, but was Angela one of them? Had she walked into the bar that night hoping that she’d catch his eye? The groupies he’d encountered were much more obvious about their intentions. Unless she was so good at manipulating men that she knew how he’d react if he were forced to chase her.

Max needed some straight answers. Now. But he wasn’t even sure what questions he ought to be asking. It would be better to wait and let things between him and Angela play out. A few well-timed questions about high school and college might shake the truth out of her. And then he’d know if this was a complicated manipulation or just a simple misunderstanding.

Max hoped it was the latter. Right now, he didn’t want to consider anything that might mess up the good thing they had going.

“I LOVE THIS PLACE,” Angela said, staring into the penguin tank at the Shedd Aquarium. “Whenever I need to clear my mind, I come here and watch the penguins. Life seems so perfect for them. Swim and eat, swim and eat.”

She glanced over at Max, her gaze taking in his perfect profile. They’d been together for two days and she’d done her best to resist his charms. But his constant assault on her defenses had left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

It was just sex, incredible as it was. But it was the simple moments like this one, when she’d look at him and saw the man behind all the hype and celebrity that threw her. He was just a regular guy who loved pizza and swimming and watching penguins. He was completely content to spend a quiet afternoon with her.

“They’re like us,” Max said. “But we threw a little sex in there for variety.”

“Penguins mate for life, you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” Max said.

“It’s true. They search for that one special penguin they’re meant to be with and when they find each other, they settle down, build a nest and have a little penguin family.”

It was only after she relayed the penguin information that she realized how he might interpret her words. Did he think that’s what she was after? Was she even sure what she wanted? Angela had been so careful not to think about the future. Whenever her thoughts spun out to the weeks and months ahead, she stopped herself.

Two days. Forty-eight hours. And already she was in serious trouble. It wasn’t going to last, Angela told herself. In a week or two, he’d give her some sort of lame explanation and he’d move on. Why not just enjoy what they shared for what it was?

“It must take them a while to find their mate,” Max said. “They all look alike.”

“They know. They can feel it.” He looked at her and Angela smiled. “They stick together through sickness and bad weather, protecting each other. From the time they meet until the time they hatch their first baby, they don’t even eat. And then, the couple shares all the responsibilities for the newborn.”

Max slipped his arm around her shoulders and they silently watched the birds leap into the water and jump back out again. If only life could be so simple for humans. She’d already made so many mistakes and now, Angela wasn’t sure she’d be able to go back and fix them.

How would she explain everything to Max-how she’d been in love with when they were teenagers?

How she’d once dreamed about a day when they’d be doing just this. How she’d decided to write about him in her book and how his personal life was splashed all over her Web site.

No matter how she fashioned her explanation, she could never make it sound better than common stalking. But it wasn’t like that. What had begun as a complicated mess was now perfectly simple-she wanted him, he wanted her, and they’d found each other.

If she really believed they had a future together, then she’d have to come clean. The barbecue would be difficult to navigate with all her secrets still intact, so she’d have to tell him before then. Either that, or break up with him.

“What do you think about that?” Max asked.

Startled out of her thoughts, she blinked, then turned to him. “Think about what?”

“About mating for life? Is it possible?”

“Of course. Zoologists have studied penguin colonies and-”

“I meant for humans. Is it the natural order of things to spend your life with just one person?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Look at the divorce rate nowadays. All those couples went into marriage thinking it was forever. And then it wasn’t. Relationships are hard. I think two people have to be temperamentally suited for each other. And then they have to work at it, every day, forever.”

“Have you ever thought about getting married?”

“No one has ever asked me,” Angela admitted. “But I do believe in the penguins. I think there’s one person out there for each of us and we spend our life trying to find that person. Sometimes, we think we’ve found them, and then we realize we were wrong. But when we actually do, it’s…perfect.” She forced a smile. “And what do you think? Are you a believer in the penguin theory of love or do you side with my parents?”

“Your parents don’t believe in romance?” he asked.

“They think I need to choose someone to marry for practical purposes, not because of some overwhelming passion. I was the oddball in our family. My parents and sisters were the scientists, always looking at life with a purely objective, rational eye. I spent my whole childhood lost in silly romantic fantasies. I loved fairy tales. My mother thought they were horrible stories that sent young girls all the wrong messages. She banned certain books from my reading list and I’d just sneak them out of the library with my best friend’s library card. She wouldn’t allow me to read Wuthering Heights because Cathy commits suicide over her love for Heathcliff.”

“Do your parents have a happy marriage?”

“No,” Angela said. “Maybe. I don’t see any passion there. I know they respect each other, but I was never really sure if they loved each other. What about yours? Are they happy?”

Max nodded. “Yeah, I know they are. They have their disagreements, but they love spending time together. They golf and play tennis. And I’m pretty sure they still have sex, so that’s a good thing, right?”

“I think so,” she said. “I hope that when I’m older, my husband still wants me.”

“You want to get married, then?” Max asked.