"Three glasses in about three minutes." Zack added two more slices of toast to the pile on the plate in front of him and put another batch in the toaster. "You probably aren't used to that much alcohol hitting you all at once-especially on an empty stomach."
"Actually," she said, sounding embarrassed, "I'm not really used to drinking at all. I don't know what got into me."
"Well," he muttered, scowling at the toaster. He knew very well what had got into her. "What you need is something to eat. I made you some tea and… uh…"
"Toast," Maddy supplied as the latest batch popped up.
"Yeah."
"Well, thanks."
"Don't mention it."
"Um… where's Dahlia?"
"At her sister's. She always spends Saturday night at her sister's."
"Oh… Zack? Don't you think that's enough toast?"
He stared down at the leaning tower of toast, then up at Maddy. Her cheeks were very pink, her eyes suspiciously bright. As he glared at her, her mouth began to quiver. She put a hand over it, but a snort of laughter bubbled up anyway. Something inside him that had been wound too tight slowly came unraveled, and he began to laugh silently, his body shaking with it. He carefully laid the butter knife down on the counter and turned around.
"Maddy," he said softly. "Come here."
He was a little surprised that she came so readily, and surprised, too, at the way she fit so well against him. It wasn't the first time he'd held her in his arms, of course, but then he hadn't really been noticing things like that. He'd been too wrapped up in his own desires.
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 tim
e, 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."
She wasn't going to understand. He could see it in her eyes. They were glazed and dark with shock. He held her hands together in both of his and said gently, "Believe me, I don't want to. But… you're very vulnerable right now. We both are. You're a warm, compassionate woman, and I've just unloaded on you. We're holding on to each other for comfort. Maddy, I can't let you get caught up in the moment and do something you'll regret later."
She opened her mouth, then closed it. He saw her throat move. She wouldn't argue with him-she didn't have enough self-confidence for that-but he knew she felt rejected. He hated doing this to her, but the alternative was unthinkable. In a little while, when she'd had a chance to recover her sanity, she'd thank him.
"Come on, I'll take you home," he said, still struggling with his rigid jaws. He glanced down at her feet. "Get your shoes."
She shook her head. "Don't have any. I left them at Jody's. Just take me back there, please. I have to get my car."
"Oh," he said. "Of course."
He drove her back to the Harbors' in silence. The party was still in full swing. He sat in his car and waited while she walked barefooted up the walk. He knew he should have gone with her, but he didn't think he could have faced her at the door, said night to her, without pulling her into his arms. He didn't think he had it in him to let her go twice in one night.
When she had disappeared through the Harbors' front door, he put his car in gear and drove slowly and carefully home. He let himself into his empty house and made straight for the basement. As he crossed the room he was pulling his shirt off over his head, kicking off his shoes, yanking at his belt buckle. By the time he reached the pool he was naked. Without missing a stride he launched himself through the air in a shallow racing dive. His body cut like a knife through the cool, silky blackness.
He thought it probable that anyone watching him enter the water must have heard the hiss of steam…
He swam underwater until his chest began to feel like a bass drum, then surfaced and ploughed up and down the length of the pool until he was thoroughly winded. As he was dragging himself out of the water he thought he heard the chime of his front doorbell.
He froze, listening, while they pool water undulated, glittering with reflected moonlight. It came again, distant but unmistakable.
Damn, he thought. Who the hell could that be?
Muttering oaths under his breath, he found a towel and knotted it carelessly around his hips. Leaving a trail of wet footprints and water droplets, he ran up the stairs and strode to the door. Flung it open. And stood frozen with disbelief.
Maddy stood there, holding her shoes in one hand.
Nine
"I can't believe I let you do that," she said, breathing hard through her nose. She'd worked up a good head of steam on the drive there, and she was ready to let it blow.
Zack looked as if he'd run into a wall. He blinked at her and croaked, "What?"
"I can't believe I let you decide for me what I do or do not want to do, what is or is not good for me! And after I'd just got through telling you I wasn't a child!" She glared at him, then looked more closely and felt her anger getting sidetracked.
"You're wet!" she declared, then asked uncertainly, "Were you in the shower?"
"No, I was-"
"Aren't you going to let me come in? I am barefooted, you know." To her bemusement, her voice seemed to have grown husky. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen his body before, but there was something about the towel, and the way he had it knotted, that made her quite certain there was nothing but Zack underneath it.
Impulsively she reached out and brushed glistening drops of water from one smooth pectoral mound. "And you… are getting cold."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are." She brushed the backs of her fingers across a flat nipple and the hard little bump at its center.
He caught her wrist. "Dammit, Maddy. What do you think I am? Do you have any idea how hard it was to say good night to you?"
She gazed steadily at him and said bluntly, "Then why did you?"
"I told you-"
"You told me about holding on to each other… comforting each other. I don't see anything wrong with that." It was too soon to tell him how she really felt about him. She didn't have the courage to say the words. Maybe she never would. Which was maybe why she wanted so desperately to show him…
She took a deep breath, shoring up her crumbling self-confidence. "Zack, I don't want to be alone tonight-not after all we've… all that's been said. I don't think you do either."
"Maddy." He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Zack. Recent behavior to the contrary, I am a grown woman. Give me credit for knowing my own mind. But please." She paused for a small gust of nervous laughter. "If you leave me standing out here on your doorstep much longer, you won't have to say good night, because I'm about to lose my nerve. Zack… tell me honestly: Do you want me to go? If you really want me to go, I'll leave."
She stared at him, feeling her legs weaken, hearing her heartbeat like thunder in her ears. A
fter several eternities he shook his head and muttered thickly, "No. I don't want you to go."
She lifted her hands, then let them drop, and made a frustrated, whimpering sound. Zack held out his hand. She put hers into it and stepped over the threshold. The door's soft closing seemed symbolic. If she'd gone too far this time, there was no going back.
"Maddy…" Her name was a sigh in the darkness. His hand closed on the nape of her neck. "I'm glad you're here."
Tiny electrical currents of anxiety ran around inside her. A hiccup of laughter pushed up through her throat. "Zack, I'm afraid you'll have to tell me… I don't know quite where we go from here. I'm not… used to this sort of thing."
His hand tightened for an instant on her neck. She heard a soft snort of irony. "What makes you think I am?"
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and stared at his dark outline. "You're not?"
The dry rustle of his laughter stirred the darkness. "Driving for Olympic gold doesn't leave much time for… other things. And afterward, I was overwhelmed by all the attention. Carol was the first girl who didn't make me feel like some kind of freak, and we married when I was barely twenty-one. She was two years older. And after she died… Look, do you really want to stand here and discuss my sexual track record?"
Maddy heard the vulnerability vibrating through the exasperation in his voice and let her smile come into hers. "No, I don't." She put out her hand and touched the tense muscles of his belly. Beneath the cool, water-chilled skin she could feel vibrant heat and ripples of inner trembling, like the shivers that were turning her own insides to jelly. Tenderness poured through her like warm rain, nourishing her confidence.
Zack's hand turned upward beneath her hair to cradle her head. He brought his mouth to within a hair's breadth of hers, then stopped there, because her palm was still pressing against his stomach, holding him away. She touched his mouth with her smiling lips and slid her hand across the smooth plane of his abdomen to find the knot that held his towel together. When she loosened it he made a sound and a reflexive movement. The towel slid to the floor.
Still Waters Page 12
