Jack awoke from the nightmare and found himself staring into Maggie Wainwright's curious eyes. She had pulled her coupe up beside his truck on the wrong side of the road so she could lean out the window and talk to him. A glance at the church parking lot showed it was still mostly full, but the street around them was empty. He glanced at his watch and realized thirty minutes had passed.

"I saw the truck and couldn't help looking to see if it might be yours," Maggie said. "Sometimes cars from elsewhere in town find their way to this neighborhood," she added with a smile.

Looking at her, he felt the same fierce attraction he always did-along with another feeling that always came with it, one he hadn't recognized until this moment. Fear.

He was getting more deeply involved with this woman-an alcoholic, like his mother-every time he saw her.

Get out while you can, Jack, a voice warned. It's not too late.

Maggie's brow furrowed as she stared at him. "I thought you were going home. How did you end up here?"

"I was worried about leaving you alone with all that booze. By the time I got turned around, you were leaving." He shrugged. "I decided to follow you."

"Because you thought I was headed for a bar?"

He nodded.

She pursed her lips, and he could see she was perturbed. "I suppose I ought to thank you," she said. "But I have to fight my own demons, Jack."

"I know that!" he snapped. "That doesn't make it any easier for me to stand by and watch you struggle. What if you'd ended up in a bar, Maggie?"

"I suppose we'd both have hated me in the morning," she said, with a wry twist of her mouth.

"That isn't funny."

"Did you come in and listen?" she asked.

"I heard you speak. I ended up with more questions than answers when you were done."

Several more occurred to him. Had Maggie been telling the truth about when she took her first drink? Had she perhaps been drunk when her family needed her? Was that why she blamed herself for what had happened to them?

Jack took a mental step back and looked at the woman in the car across from him. The last thing he wanted was to want her. Maggie's fight with alcoholism would provide a constant reminder not only of his painful childhood but also his failure to save a child because he had let the past color his present. To make matters even worse, Maggie had her own ghosts to fight and might be exorcising them by killing other people's children.

Jack knew he was playing with fire.

Yet he couldn't walk away. Without her, he felt as empty inside as a gutted steer. He would find a way to deal with her situation. He had no choice. Because of all the women he had ever known, only Maggie had ever filled up the hollowness he felt inside.

If only she wasn't a murderer, anything was possible.

"I'll follow you home," he said at last.

"It isn't necessary," she replied.

"I want to make sure you get home without-"

"Stopping for a drink?" she finished for him. "All right, Jack, you can follow me home. I imagine you'll be more fun at the Hollanders' picnic tomorrow if you don't spend the night staring at the ceiling, wondering where I am."

"I'm right behind you," he said.

Even after he made sure Maggie got home, Jack didn't sleep well. He spent the long night tossing and turning on a rumpled bed of unanswered questions.

Chapter 12.

"Do you want a hamburger or a hot dog, Maggie?" Roman called out as he carried a platter of raw hamburgers and hot dogs out his kitchen door to the gas grill on the screened-in flagstone patio.

"Hamburger," Maggie called back. "And in deference to E. coli, char it, please." She was treading water while hanging onto the side of Roman's backyard pool. She provided a second set of watchful eyes on three-year-old Amy, who was being pushed by her mother around the shallow end of the pool in a colorful, plastic duck-shaped float.

The Easter egg hunt, with Amy wearing a pair of paper bunny ears she and Lisa had made together, had been a painful reminder to Maggie of days gone by. She had forced her-self to smile and cheer on Jack and Tomas, who had followed Amy around pointing out eggs for her to find.

"Hot dogs for me and Amy," Lisa said before Roman could ask.

"One hamburger, one hot dog," Tomas volunteered from his seat on the springboard at the deep end of the pool. "Any way they come off the grill."

"A hot dog sliced down the middle with American cheese melted on it," Isabel instructed from a lounge chair near the diving board.

"Figures," Roman said with a laugh. "You like everything American."

"Si, senor," Isabel said with an exaggerated Spanish accent. "Todo Americana."

"Jack? What about you?" Roman inquired.

"Hamburger. Rare," Jack said from his spot half in, half out of the water on the stairs at the shallow end of the pool. "I like to live dangerously," he said when Maggie opened her mouth to object.

"Be sure to put on another hamburger and hot dog for yourself, Roman," Isabel said.

"Got 'em both right here." The hot grill sizzled as the last of the meat went on. "I could use some help in the kitchen," Roman said.

"I'll be glad to help," Isabel offered, already half out of the cushioned lounge chair.

"Don't bother," Lisa said quickly. "I'll help Roman. I have some other things I need to do in the kitchen."

Maggie cringed at the obvious friction between Lisa and Isabel. Lisa had told Maggie when she arrived that things were a little better between her and Roman, but the strain on Lisa's face, and the dark looks she darted at Isabel, left Maggie wondering just how much better things really were.

She let her gaze roam from Isabel to Roman and back again. As far as Maggie could tell, Roman only had eyes for his wife. She wasn't as sure about what Isabel felt for Roman.

Lisa's yearning look as she met Roman's gaze told Maggie her friend was hoping for a few stolen kisses in the kitchen. Lisa obviously needed someone to take over with Amy while she was gone, but Maggie noticed Isabel wasn't volunteering for that.

Maggie looked longingly at Amy, but she didn't trust herself to be responsible for the dark-haired, dark-eyed pixie in the water.

"How about if I spell you?" Jack said to Lisa as he waded toward her.

"Amy doesn't usually take to-"

"Hey there, kiddo," Jack said, smiling broadly as he slipped an arm around Amy, duck float and all. Maggie noticed the little girl was entranced by Jack's smile and didn't see her mother slipping away toward the edge of the pool.

Lisa gave Jack a thumbs-up and mouthed, "Thanks, Jack." She leaned back in the water to wet her hair, then braced her palms on the aqua tile and used her arms to push herself quietly up and out of the pool like some sleek water mammal. Lisa never took her eyes off of Roman as she reached up with both hands to squeeze the extra water out of her hair, leaving her exquisite body outlined for him.

Maggie saw the hungry look Lisa got from her husband and glanced away before she intercepted anything more embarrassing. She knew Tomas wouldn't be interested, but she made a point of watching over Amy, certain Jack's gaze would also be distracted by Lisa's stunning white-bikini-clad figure. To her surprise, Jack's attention remained totally focused on the child.

Jack moved Amy into deeper water, so he was face to face with her. "How about you and me and Donald here taking a swim together?" he said to Amy.

Amy patted the duck's head and said, "Donald."

Jack patted his own head and said, "Jack."

Amy patted his head and said, "Jack," whereupon Jack patted her head and said, "Amy."

Amy laughed, delighted with the game. She patted the duck's head again and said, "Look, Mommy. Donald."

It was only then Amy noticed her mother was gone.

Her head swiveled as she searched her surroundings. When she couldn't find her mother, Amy turned back to Jack with woeful eyes and a wobbly mouth and asked, "Where' s Mommy?"

Jack turned the duck toward the patio, leaned close to Amy, and pointed to the grill. "See those hot dogs over there?"

"I like hot dogs."

"Your mom and dad are in the house getting the catsup and mustard and pickles-"

Amy wrinkled her nose. "I hate pickles."

"Me, too," Jack agreed. "But I love ice cream."

Amy and Jack began talking about foods they liked and didn't like, and it was obvious that, for the moment, Amy had forgotten all about her mother's disappearance.

Maggie couldn't believe how good Jack was with the little girl. Amy seemed fascinated by him, and Maggie could easily understand why. She found Jack quite fascinating herself.

"You two look like you're having fun," Maggie said, unaware of the wistfulness in her voice.

"Come on over and join us," Jack said with a grin, splashing water in her direction with the heel of his hand. "Amy and I could use some company."

"Company," Amy said, splashing her hands in the water in imitation of Jack's gesture.

"The water's too deep for me to stand up there," Maggie protested. The last thing she wanted to do was get any closer to Jack's practically naked body. Even from this distance, his magnetic attraction was doing strange things to the underwire in her swimsuit bra. Or maybe the damned thing was just rusty . . . like she was when it came to dealing with male advances.

Her black suit, cut low at the top and high in the thigh, was more than ten years old. At the time she'd bought it, Maggie had wanted Woody to appreciate every bit of what she had up on top and down at the bottom. Right now, she'd have given anything for a swimsuit with a skirt to hide her thirty-five-year-old thighs and some sort of corrugated fabric to conceal her turgid nipples.

Jack had obliged her by scooting Amy into what, for him, was waist-deep water. "Is this better for you?"

Maggie realized she was being watched by Isabel and Tomas, and rather than "protest too much," she swam over to join Jack and Amy.

Amy immediately patted Maggie on the head and said, "Maggie."

Maggie laughed and tweaked Amy's nose. "Amy's nose."

Amy picked up on the new game, and pretty soon they were all three touching each other's noses and ears and eyes and mouths as Amy identified each part.

Maggie wasn't sure, but it seemed to her Jack's touch lingered on her mouth too long and brushed her cheek too intimately. He caressed her earlobe in a way that sent a frisson of feeling skittering down her spine.

"Cold?" he asked when she shivered.

The sun was hot, and the pool was heated. She slanted a glance at him and admitted, "As a matter of fact, it's a little too warm right now for me."

The scoundrel didn't look the least bit repentant. He bent down and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and stared at her until she got lost in his steel gray eyes. When it seemed inevitable that he would kiss her, Amy grabbed his chin and said, "Whiskers."

Jack let go of Maggie as though kissing her had been the farthest thing from his mind, rubbed his thumb across Amy's chin, frowned ferociously and asked, "Where are Amy's whiskers?"

Amy giggled. "Only daddies have whiskers," she informed him.

Jack suddenly caught Maggie by the nape and rubbed his bristly cheek against hers. "No whiskers," he said sadly to Amy, shaking his head.

Amy giggled again. "No whiskers on mommies. Just daddies!"

Maggie felt Jack's thumb seductively trace her lower lip before he abruptly released her and leaned down to rub his whisker-rough cheek against Amy's baby-smooth one. Amy grabbed his ears and held on, laughing as, with appropriate grunts and groans, he tried mightily but unsuccessfully to escape her clutches.

The masculine rumble of laughter and the childish giggles brought back memories for Maggie of her twin sons at three, playing with Woody on the frozen pond behind their house. Minnesota was the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes, but it was so cold most of the year that Stanley and Brian had learned to ice skate long before they'd learned to swim. Her sons had moved on the ice like stiff-limbed Frankensteins once they were bundled up in quilted, goose-down coats, with Minnesota Timberwolves scarves wrapped several times around their necks, hats tied down over their ears, and woolen mittens tugged onto their tiny hands.

Woody, who had gone to prep school in New England and played hockey in high school, urged her onto the ice, but she was an East Texas girl and preferred dry land. She had been content to sit on a fallen log near the pond and watch. If only she had been watching when . . .

"Where are you?" Jack murmured in her ear.

Maggie awoke from her daydream-and the inevitable nightmare that would have followed-with a start and consciously willed her racing pulse to slow. She reached out to Amy with both hands, wanting to hold her, wanting to know she was safe.

"Up!" Amy said, delighted by the new game. She took both hands off the sides of the duck float and, arms reaching high overhead for Maggie, slipped right through the tube and sank like a stone.

Maggie didn't even cry out Amy's name, just dived under in search of the child. She saw Amy, her eyes and mouth open, kicking like a frog underwater. She caught the child up in her arms an instant before Jack could reach her and popped to the surface with Amy clutched tight against her breast.

Amy came up sputtering, frantically wiping water and hair from her eyes. Maggie spared a hand to do the same for herself. She took several quick, gulping breaths and waited for her wildly beating heart to stop trying to escape her chest.

"Never, never take your eyes off a child when she's in the pool!" Maggie yelled at Jack the instant he surfaced.

"I barely-"

"You weren't watching! You have to watch!" Maggie helped Amy wipe the last of the water from her nose and mouth. "She could have drowned!"

Jack shot Maggie a frustrated look. "We're standing right here. She just slipped through the duck. It was no big deal."

"What if we hadn't been here?" Maggie raged. "Amy might have-"

"Let it go, Maggie. It's all over. Nothing happened."

Amy, none the worse for her dunking, had picked up on Maggie's hysteria and began crying.