Zack took one long look at her in the candleglow. “Whatever you say.”

Disgusted, she went back to the table and sat. “You’re buying, Muldoon.”

He took out his wallet agreeably. He had the tab and the tip ready when the delivery arrived. After carrying three bulging bags to the table, he unpacked the little white cartons. In moments the air was filled with exotic aromas.

“Do you want to tell me the rest?”

“Well…” Rachel wound some noodles around her chopsticks. “I started off explaining the difference in our ages. Umm…” She chewed appreciatively. “He didn’t buy it,” she said over a mouthful. “He had a very convincing argument, and since I couldn’t override it, I changed tactics.”

“I’ve seen you in court,” he reminded her.

“I explained the ethics of my being his guardian, and how it wasn’t possible for us to go beyond those terms.” Thoughtful, she scooped up some sweet and sour pork. “He seemed to understand that.”

“Good.”

“I thought it was. I mean, he agreed with me. He was very mature about it. Then, when he was leaving, he said how it wasn’t so hard to wait five more weeks.”

Zack said nothing for a moment. Then, with a half laugh, he picked up his wine. “You’ve got to give the kid credit.”

“Zack, this is serious.”

“I know. I know. It’s sticky for both of us, but you have to admire the way he turned it around on you.”

“I told you he was smooth.” After peeking in another carton, she nibbled on some chilled chicken and bean sprouts. “Don’t you know any nice teenage girls you could nudge in his direction?”

“Lola’s got one,” Zack said, considering. “I think she’s sixteen.”

“Lola has a teenager?”

“Three of them. She likes to say she started young so that she could lose her mind before she turned forty. I can feel her out about it.”

“It couldn’t hurt. I’m going to try again, though I’m hoping the feeling will pass in another week or two.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Reaching across the table, he linked his fingers with hers. “You stick in a man’s mind.”

“Does that mean you’re thinking of me when you’re mixing drinks and flirting with the customers?”

“I never flirt with Pete.”

She laughed. “I was thinking more of those two ‘babes’ who drop in. The blonde and the redhead. They always order stingers.”

“You are observant, Counselor.”

“The redhead’s got her big green eyes on you.”

“They’re blue.”

“A-ha!”

He shook his head, amazed he’d fallen so snugly into the trap. “It pays to know your regulars. Besides, I like brown eyes—especially when they lean toward gold.”

She let his lips brush hers. “Too late.” With her head close to his, she laughed again. “It’s all right, Muldoon. I can always borrow Rio’s meat cleaver if you notice more than her eyes.”

“Then I’m safe. I’ve never paid any attention to those cute little freckles over her nose. Or that sexy dimple in her chin.”

Eyes narrowed, Rachel bit his lip. “Get any lower, and you’ll be in deep water.”

“That’s okay. I’m a strong swimmer.”

Hours later, when Zack crawled into a cold, empty bed, he warmed himself by thinking of it. It had been nice, just nice, to laugh together over the cardboard boxes and chopsticks. They’d sampled each other’s choices, talking while the candles had burned low. Not about Nick, not about work, but about dozens of other things.

Then they’d made love again, slowly, sweetly, while the night grew late around them.

He’d had to leave her. He had responsibilities. But as he settled his body toward sleep, he let his mind wander, imagining what it could be like.

Waking up with her. Feeling her stretch against him as the alarm rang. Watching her. Smiling to himself as she hurried around the apartment, getting dressed for work.

She’d be wearing one of those trim suits while they stood in the kitchen sharing coffee, talking over their plans for the day.

Sometimes they’d steal a quick lunch together, because they both hated to have a whole day pass without touching. When he could, he’d slip away from work so that he could walk home with her in the evening. When he couldn’t, he’d look forward to seeing her come through the door, slide onto a stool at the bar, where she’d eat Rio’s chili and flirt with him.

Then they would go home together.

One balmy weekend they would set sail together. He’d teach her how to man the tiller. They’d glide out over blue water, with the sails billowing….

The waves were high as mountains, rearing up to slap viciously at the ship. The bellow of the wind was like a thousand women screaming. Burying a fear that he knew could be as destructive as the gale, he scrambled over the pitching deck, clinging to the slippery rail as he shouted orders.

The rain was lashing his face like a whip, blinding him. His red-rimmed eyes stung from the salt water. He knew the boat was out there—radar had it—but all he could see was wall after wall of deadly water.

The next wave swamped the deck, sucking at him. Lightning cracked the sky like a bullet through glass. The ship heeled. He saw the seaman tumble, heard the shout as his hands scrambled on the deck for purchase. Zack leaped, snagging a sleeve, then a wrist.

A line. For God’s sake, get me a line.

And he was dragging the dead weight back from the rail.

Wind and water. Wind and water.

There, in a flash of lightning, was the disabled boat. Lower the tow line. Make it fast. As the lightning stuttered against the dark, he could see three figures. They’d lashed themselves on—a man to the wheel, a woman behind him, a young girl to the mast.

They were fighting, valiantly, but a forty-foot boat was no match for the fury of a hurricane at sea. It was impossible to send out a launch. He had to hope one of them could hold the boat steady while another secured the tow.

Signal lights flashed instructions through the storm.

It happened fast. Another spear of lightning, and the mast cracked, falling like a tree under an ax. Horrified, he watched the young girl being dragged with it into the swirling water.