Not entirely certain that the familiarity she'd acquired during the night with his nude body would carry into broad daylight, he stepped back from the door before she could turn and see him. He rummaged in the closet for a reasonably presentable bathing suit and stepped into it. Then he went out to Maddy and dropped a good-morning kiss onto the lush curve of her shoulder.

" 'Mornin', sunshine." He wrapped his arms around her and stood very still, with his head lowered next to hers, just immersing himself in the scent and feel of her.

"Hi." Her voice was shy and breathy, but with an underlying huskiness that he hadn't heard before… except, come to think of it, when she'd turned that dragon of hers into a puppet Mae West.

He felt her cheek move as she smiled, and she lifted a hand to touch his hair.

"You were up pretty early, considering," he said.

She laughed low in her throat, a wonderfully sexy sound. Zack had a feeling that everything she said and did from now on was going to have that connotation for him. It might get to be a problem…

"I was hungry," she said.

"Hmm. Find anything to eat?"

More of that delicious laughter. "Toast." He groaned. "No, it wasn't bad-really. I hated to see it all go to waste. And I had some milk. Couldn't find the coffee."

"Coffee's bad for you."

"I knew it," she said with a sigh. "A certified health nut."

"Nobody's perfect," he acknowledged, nuzzling her neck. "Hey, I love your toga. Let's see… What was it you did to my towel last night?"

"Zack! Don't you dare. Stop that-" She whirled away from him, clutching her sheet and laughing. "Actually, I was just standing here, thinking…"

" Bout what?" He folded his arms across his chest in a consciously arrogant, completely masculine stance.

She grinned at him and muttered, "Well, that too. But I was thinking about… what we discussed last night. My problem."

"Yeah?" Knowing it was important to her, he made an effort to put a damper on his libido. For the moment. "And?"

"And I was wondering if it had done any good. You said it would help to talk about it, and I did feel better last night, but I don't know if it's changed anything. I can't believe the fear could be gone, just like magic."

"And were you thinking that this might be a good time to try it out?"

She nodded. He went to her and put his hands on her arms. "Sweetheart, I'm game. But don't expect too much of yourself, okay? Talking about your problem is only the beginning. You're right-it isn't magic."

"I want to try." Her gaze was steady, and there was a stubborn look to the set of her mouth. He smiled and kissed her.

"Okay, babe. One problem, though. What are you going to wear?"

He was laughing, but she looked really crestfallen.

She breathed a little "Oh…" of chagrin and put her fingers to her lips. "I don't have anything."

"Well," he said judiciously, "you don't really need anything, I suppose."

"Zack! It's broad daylight!"

He lifted his hands. "We're completely private here. No one to see but me."

She chewed her lip in confusion, torn between a lifelong habit of modesty and one of life's primal temptations: the joy of skinny-dipping.

"Wait. On second thought," Zack amended hurriedly when he saw a dewy flush of excitement tinge her cheeks, "I think it might be a little too distracting for the teacher. Come on, let's see what we can find."

The best he could come up with was a white T-shirt that came about to mid-thigh on her. A suit bottom stymied him completely. Most of his suggestions so horrified Maddy that she finally pushed him outside in exasperation and announced that she'd take care of the problem herself, thanks!

When she eventually came back out to the pool, pink-cheeked and ruffled and looking like a child in a nightshirt, Zack couldn't resist asking, with the hush of suppressed laughter in his voice, what she was wearing under it.

"My underpants," she loftily informed him.

"And what, dare I ask, are you going to do for underpants when… um… eventually it becomes necessary to… ah…"

She gave him a quelling glare. He cleared his throat and attempted to arrange his features in an expression of earnestness and responsibility.

"if you can get your mind out of my underwear," she said, "we can get down to business-"

It was no use. Zack became convulsed with laughter. Maddy tried her best, but when he hauled her into his arms he felt her body shaking with mirth. "Hush," he said sternly, breaking into fitful chortles, "this is serious stuff."

Which, of course, they both knew it was. Maddy's bathing costume wasn't that funny. It was just a safety valve for the tension they were all too aware of, an antidote for the dread that lurked just beyond the silliness.

They managed to keep their faces straight until Maddy hopped off the edge of the pool into the water. Trapped air inflated the T-shirt like a pair of water wings. It rose in a billow around Maddy's chin, baring her midriff and the now totally transparent panties below. Zack gazed at her raptly and murmured, "I think I'm going to enjoy this."

She glared at him and deflated the shirt, submerging herself to her neck to make certain it was thoroughly wet. When she straightened up again, looking smugly triumphant, he shook his head in wonder and said, "I know I'm going to enjoy this!" The wet T-shirt was doing what wet T-shirts are famous for doing-defining her magnificent breasts in minute detail, and far more tantalizingly than if they'd been totally bare.

Maddy glanced down at herself and did her best to look disgusted. "Really, Zachary. If you are through behaving like an adolescent voyeur-"

"But when I was an adolescent, I didn't have time to be a voyeur," Zack protested. "Gimme a break!"

For an answer to his plea Maddy aimed a sizable splash at his face. Zack responded with an outraged bellow. After the ensuing tussle had been brought to a predictable and mutually satisfying conclusion, Zack lifted his mouth from Maddy's and whispered, "Ready?"

Her eyes searched his, and she nodded.

"Okay, babe. We're going down together. I'm going to be touching you, but I won't hold you. You can come up any time you want to. Okay?"

Again her reply was a quick nod. She hadn't taken her gaze from his face. Her lips were parted and still moist from his kiss, and her hands were resting on his shoulders, one loosely hooked around his neck. His arms encircled her, but not tightly. Seconds ticked slowly by, and his heartbeat counted them, one by one. It was like being poised on the platform, awaiting the starter's gun-a moment of frozen eternity.

"Ready… set… take a breath, hold it… now." Zack sent up a prayer for her and slipped under the water, needing all his concentration to keep from tightening his arms around her. He half-expected her to balk, but she didn't. In an agony of suspense he watched her face as she submerged. She kept her eyes and mouth pressed tightly shut, while her hair fanned out around her in golden waves, like every boy's mermaid fantasies.

He'd expected her to stay under for no more than an instant, but again she surprised him. He counted, in growing wonder and elation, to five, to ten… and then, as he felt her body tense, he nearly exploded out of the water in order to beat her to it. He wanted-he had-to be there, to see her face.

She erupted from the water in a cascade of silver, like a sea goddess, or a water sprite. Her face was radiant. Drops of water sparkled on her cheeks and lashes like tiny diamonds. She gasped for breath and cried, "I did it, I did it. Zack, I did it!"

She hugged him hard, while her body shook with laughter and sobs.

Zack didn't say anything at all. He couldn't. He held her quaking body as tightly as he dared, because he was shaking as badly as she was. As he bowed his head and pressed his wet face against hers, he wasn't at all ashamed that some of the moisture was his own tears…

Zack had stood alone on the topmost step of the victor's platform, with the weight of gold on his chest and the eyes of the world on him, listening to his national anthem and watching his country's flag rise slowly before him, and had felt a similar surge of overwhelming emotion.

But he'd never known a sweeter victory than when he heard Maddy cry with breathless exhilaration, "Zack, I want to do it again!"

Ten

Amazing.

That word was becoming the most frequently employed in Maddy's mental vocabulary.

These days everything amazed her. The weather-no June fog! How amazing. Just clear days, hot and beautiful, with blue sky and no smog, perfect for going to the beach. Perfect for lying around Zack's pool. Perfect for swimming lessons.

Flowers amazed her. She'd never noticed so many before. And then there were birds-especially sea gulls, and the little green hummingbirds in Zack's backyard.

Oh, and food! How amazing that cold toast and milk with Zack should taste so good-better than prime rib at an expensive restaurant with anyone else. Just sharing an apple with Zack was more exciting than tasting caviar for the very first time.

But it was people that amazed her the most. There was Dahlia, who never, never smiled, but never judged, either. And Jody, who, since the night of her fire-pit christening party, had been displaying a most extraordinary and unprecedented degree of tact. Larry, who had subjected Maddy to his professionally perceptive scrutiny and declared that she was positively glowing these days, and asked what she was on, some kind of health kick? When Maddy, trying not to blush, told him Zack was teaching her how to swim, he merely remarked blandly, "Well… swimming seems to agree with you. Keep it up."

And Theresa was… Well, Maddy had decided there was another word to describe that little girl.

She was irrepressible, Maddy thought as she gazed at Theresa, perched like a small brown elf on a high stool in front of Maddy's work table.

Theresa was making a puppet out of an old sock, and was busily cutting and gluing scraps of felt and yarn and humming bits and pieces of "Shall We Gather at the River?" A slanting finger of sunshine from one of the skylights touched her head with amber and threw her shadow across Corry, who was sprawled in the middle of everything. The cat was trying to disrupt the project by flicking his tail through the pile of scraps like a feather duster. The tail seemed to have life and personality of its own, and Theresa was playing hide and seek with it and interrupting both her song and her work with giggles.

A bright, happy little girl, Maddy thought, with an outgoing nature and sweet disposition-if you discounted a stubborn streak and a tendency to argue all the time. Who would ever guess, watching her now, that barely a month ago she had been a bruised and frightened victim of abuse?

Theresa, Maddy was only too well aware, was one of the lucky ones. She'd been discovered and rescued from a bad situation before any permanent damage had been done. And since then she had been surrounded by nothing but love, thanks to Larry Whitlaw, a warm and very special lady named Dottie Frownfelter, thanks to Dahlia, and Maddy, and of course… Zack.

Zack was the most amazing thing of all. He was more than amazing. He was a miracle.

In just a few weeks he'd gone from legend-a gold-medal smile on a billboard or television screen-to awe-inspiring superhero-Aquaman!-to a human being made distant and untouchable by tragedy, and finally, incredibly, to teacher, lover.. .friend. Not a superhero at all, but a wonderfully human man, with strengths and weaknesses, virtues and faults. He was quick-tempered and stubborn, gentle and incredibly patient. True, he was a health nut, and he wasn't going to win any neatness awards, but he was kind and sensitive and loving.

What amazed Maddy about herself was how she could know someone so well and love everything about him-including his faults-so much, and still manage to keep it all hidden away inside!

It wasn't that she was afraid to have Zack know how she felt about him. Where he was concerned, she didn't really have much false pride. But she had an idea that love like hers would be an awful burden to someone like Zack. Someone who cared, but who couldn't love. She told herself that if she were patient and gave him time to heal, someday he might fall in love with her. Until then, she wouldn't burden him with the responsibility for her love and her vulnerability.

It was hard, though, to keep her love from showing. Sometimes she felt as if she were walking a tightrope-without a net. One word, one look, a gesture could give her away. The hardest times were those when he let his need for her show. Times when he talked of Josh or Carol. Times when he told her of his hopes for adopting Theresa, and his fears…