Desperado by Diana Palmer Page A

you.”
    “I’ve told you…!”
    “It’s reciprocal. You can have me whenever you want me,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, his voice deep and soft and slow. His gaze was relentless, sensual. “Wherever you want me. On a bed, on the floor, standing against a wall, I don’t care. But it will be your decision, and on your terms. From now on, I won’t even touch you unless you tell me you want me to,” he added quietly.
    “I…don’t understand,” she stammered.
    He reached out and touched her cheek, his eyes narrow and quiet. “I spent a good part of my life in law enforcement. I know an abused child when I see one,” he said bluntly. “Even if it took me years to realize it.”
    She winced.
    “Don’t do that,” he said roughly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! A child can’t help what happens to her or him!”
    Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt dizzy. The hall started spinning around as sickening memories flooded into her mind, crippling her, terrifying her. “Cord,” she whispered, and fainted at his feet.
     
    When she came to, she was lying on the coverlet of her bed. Cord was sitting beside her with a glass of water in his hand, his other hand behind her head, coaxing her lips to it. His face was white under its tan.
    She managed a sip and choked. He put the glass down and helped her to sit up. He smoothed her hair while she fought for breath and sanity again.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”
    She swallowed and swallowed again. He had no idea what sort of memories he’d resurrected. They weren’t as simple or direct as his assumption of what had happened to her as a child.
    “Are you going to be all right?” he persisted.
    She forced a smile. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know about her past. He made assumptions. So many people did, withouta clue as to the depravity to which some men could stoop in their pursuit of the good life, the fast buck.
    “It’s all right, Cord,” she said in a wan voice. “I’ve had a hard week. Maybe it just caught up with me. Delayed jet lag.”
    His eyes were worried. He wasn’t buying it. “Don’t you want to come back to the ranch with me?” he asked. “June could stay with you.”
    She shook her head. “You don’t understand. It was all a long time ago. I’ve come to grips with it. Really.”
    He nodded and gave her an impatient stare. “Of course you have, sweetheart. That’s why you fainted.”
    Her eyelids flashed at the endearment. She’d known Cord for eighteen years. He’d never called her by a pet name.
    He seemed to realize why she was shocked. He chuckled softly. “Is that a weak spot? I’ll have to exploit it.”
    “It won’t work twice,” she said firmly.
    “Right. Honey,” he drawled softly.
    She flushed.
    His eyes sparkled with delight. “I’ll think up a few more before I come back next week. I’m free Wednesday or Thursday. You can pick the movie and the restaurant.”
    She was worried. “Cord…?”
    “I won’t touch you,” he repeated. “Dinner and a movie. Period.”
    “But, I’m going away,” she continued. “It will just make things worse…”
    “Worse for who, you or me?” he asked.
    “All right, for me,” she said, hating the fact that he knew how she felt about him. “Don’t torment me.”
    He hesitated. She did look tormented. He took one of her hands in his and held it tight. His thumb smoothed over her neat fingernails. “You’ve got every right to feel the way you do. I don’t blame you. But don’t push me completely out of your life, Maggie,” he added, lifting dark eyes to hers. “I can even settle for friendship, if that’s all you have to offer.”
    The remark was surprising. She didn’t really trust it, either, because she’d felt his hunger for her. How ironic, that she loved him but couldn’t imagine making love to him, and he wanted her but without loving her.
    “We could go back to being foster children,” she