Still Waters Page 10

  "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?"

  "I'm sure you will, sweetheart." Maddy cleared her throat and said firmly, "But Zack is just a friend of mine. That's all."

  Theresa shook her head and declared, "Uh-uh. That sure looked like a boyfriend kiss to me."

  "Oh, yeah?" Maddy was laughing in spite of herself. "What makes you such an expert, young lady?"

  "Not very much," Theresa admitted sorrowfully. "Whenever somebody kisses on television, Aunt Carly always turns the TV off."

  "Well, Zack is not my boyfriend. I told you before. He's just… a friend."

  Theresa heaved a huge sigh and leaned her head back against the car seat. "I wish Zack could be my boyfriend. But I'm too little!"

  "You like him?" Maddy kept her voice casual.

  "Oh, yes. Zack is really neat. I like Dahlia, too. She sings. The only thing is, she calls me 'baby.' But that's okay. I don't think she means it. Do you like Zack?"

  "Theresa, I told you I do."

  "No, you didn't. You just said he's your friend."

  "You're going to make a great lawyer someday," Maddy muttered under her breath, beginning to see what Larry meant about being with a child outside the clinic and schools. "Yes, of course I like Zack!"

  "Is that why you kissed him?"

  "Theresa!"

  "Well," she said obstinately, "you were kissing." The fastening on her purse began to pop-snap, pop-snap…

  Maddy glanced down at the stubbornly tilted head beside her and thought that Zack and Theresa were already a lot alike!

  "Maddy-what the hell is this? Some kind of joke? Dahl said you called up and canceled your lesson! Dammit, you call me and explain."

  Maddy winced at the frustrated fury that hissed from the message machine like blue flame from a welder's torch. Zack was upset, and she didn't really blame him. She wasn't sure herself what had made her cancel the lesson. She just knew she didn't feel ready for what might happen if she went back to Zack's place alone. Sensory memories had haunted her sleep, haunted her still… The feel of Zack's hands on her waist, the cool firmness of his wet body beneath her hands, the taste and texture of his mouth, the roughness of his face rasping against her fingertips…

  The butterfly feeling in her stomach seemed to have become a permanent condition.

  She'd barely rewound the tape when the telephone rang shrilly. She started violently, then sat hunched and tense, waiting for the machine to pick up the call. She was almost certain she knew who it would be.

  "Maddy-I know you're there." The angry voice confirmed her suspicion. "Larry said you'd gone home. I know you can hear me." There was a sigh. She could almost see him dragging a hand through his hair, fighting for control. A great, aching surge of emotion filled her, and she had to struggle against a compulsion to give in and pick up the receiver. Why was she resisting him… and her own desires?

  "Come on, Maddy, why are you doing this? If you don't face up to this thing now, you never will. Dammit, don't hide from me!" And finally, a grimly muttered, "Okay, babe. This isn't the end of it!" A click, a beep, then silence.

  Maddy sat for a moment longer, then picked up Bosley and slipped the dragon over her arm. She stared at the pink triangular face, and the dragon gazed back in silent reproach. For once, Maddy could think of nothing for either of them to say.

  The phone rang again. She dumped Bosley hastily and rudely into her lap and reached for it, then snatched her hand back. It could be Zack again, hoping to catch her napping. He was persistent enough to try something like that. She waited tensely while the machine ran through her message. The beep sounded; then she heard a plaintive voice.

  "Oh… Maddy, it's Saturday. Aren't you ever home?"

  Chuckling with sheer relief, Maddy picked up the receiver and switched off the machine. "Hello, Jody, it's me."

  "Oh! I'm so glad! I was beginning to think nobody alive ever answers a phone anymore. If you can't come, Amanda, I'll never forgive you. It's not my fault it's so spur-of-the-moment. I did try to reach you earlier." Jody paused to take a breath, and Maddy plunged into the breach.

  "Don't you think you should tell me what I'll be missing if I can't come? And when I'd be missing it?"

  "Oh. I guess that probably would be a good idea. Michael's finished his project! And we're all celebrating. Tonight."

  "Project?"

  "Yeah, that deck and fire pit he and Cliff have been working on forever. They've actually finished it, can you believe that? We were going to have a big thing Fourth of July, but then we found out Mike is scheduled for the Tokyo layover, and since his flight this weekend got canceled, we just decided to call everybody and do this instead. Nothing fancy, come as you are. We aren't barbecuing. That's so suburban, and anyway, who wants to stand around turning steaks all night! So I've ordered some stuff from the deli. Cliff wanted to break a bottle of champagne on the fire pit, but Mike convinced him it would be a sinful waste of good champagne, not to mention the damage it might do to the fire pit, so well open the bottle the civilized way and christen the fire pit by burning the cork with appropriate ceremony. So what do you think? Can you make it? You have to come."

  "Well…"

  "Amanda, have you been running? Why do you sound out of breath?"

  "Gee whiz, I don't know Jody, you have that effect on people sometimes! Okay, I'll come. What time?" It had just occurred to her that Zack London was probably entirely capable of coming over here and hauling her bodily to his place. But if she were safely away for the evening…

  "Oh, you know, seven-thirtyish."

  "Oh," Maddy muttered, thinking fast. Her lessons with Zack were scheduled for six. "How about if I come over a little early and help?"

  "By all means, come early, but not to help. Nobody's doing anything much. It's just a casual little thing, no big deal."

  "Sure," Maddy said, laughing. Mike and Jody's parties were legendary, even beyond the limits of San Ramon. "Okay, I'll be there. Is six too early?"

  " 'Course not, darlin'. Bring your puppets-you can keep the twins out of the buffet. Oh, I almost forgot. Wear something sensational. I might have the most marvelous surprise for you, if I can get-"

  "I thought you said casual."

  "Oh I did. It is. For everybody but you. Trust me, Amanda. Okay, see you tonight. Gotta go. Lots of calls to make-"

  Maddy laughed at the dial tone and hung up, shaking her head. "Something sensational," huh? she mused. What was Jody up to this time? Or more accurately, whom was Jody trying to set her up with this time? Whoever the poor guy was, she wondered if Jody had told him he was being "set up" or if it was going to be a complete surprise to him. Jody had worked it both ways. Maddy wasn't sure which was worse!

  She picked up poor Bosley and began to smooth out her wrinkles. "Something sensational," she murmured tho
ughtfully as she adjusted the dragon on her arm. Why couldn't Jody just accept the fact that Maddy wasn't the "sensational" type!

  "Honey," Bosley's Mae West voice crooned throatily, "it might just serve the lady right if you did show up in four-inch spikes and sequins."

  Maddy laughed softly. She definitely wasn't in the mood to put up with one of Jody's efforts to pair her off with Mr. Wonderful. If it weren't for the possibility of Zack London's showing up on her doorstep breathing fire, she wouldn't even bother going to this party. Still, it might be fun to see Jody's unsuspecting male when Jody presented him to over six feet of blond Amazon. Poor thing might have a heart attack, which would teach Jody a lesson!

  Maddy shook her head and hung Bosley back on her stand. What a terrible thing to think! She didn't know where such ideas were coming from. She was feeling very odd today-restless and reckless and out of step with herself. She sighed and looked at her watch. She'd never go as far as black sequins, but she did have time for a quick trip to the mall, and it had been a while since she'd bought a new dress, just for fun. And besides, it would get her out of the house, out of reach of the telephone…

  "Good night. Hel-lo gorgeous!" Mike Harbor was in his own doorway, looking as if he'd been standing behind a 747 when somebody started the engines.

  Maddy blushed furiously. "Thanks a lot, Mike. I really need that."

  "Darlin', you're the only person in the world who'd take that as an insult. Sorry. Lost my head." He tucked the hammer he'd been holding under one arm and held out his hand. Assembling his face into an attitude of comic gravity, he intoned, "Maddy, my dear, you're looking mah-velous. Do come in. You'll find Jody out by the pool, I think. Mind if I tag along? I'd just like to watch people's faces when they get a load of you in that dress."

  She'd gone too far, Maddy thought in panic. Where did she get these impulses?

  The dress was red, not black, and it had tiny white polka dots instead of sequins. It was an off-the-shoulder sundress with a tight bodice made of something stretchy, and a swirly skirt that came just below the knee. It was cut so low in front and back that she couldn't possibly have worn a bra with it, but it fit her like a leotard anyway, so it didn't matter. Her red sandals only had three-inch heels, which put her height at just over six feet, a little more if you counted hair, which she'd curled, for a change, then fastened back with combs so that the curls cascaded down her bare back. Her reckless mood had sustained her this far, but she was beginning to feel sanity coming on.