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victory.
His lips parted as he looked at her and hungered for her. He frowned, because he hadn't thought much
about the end result, only the path that led to it. He cocked his head. "I'm thirty-four," he said slowly.
"I've lived fast and hard. I've done things I'm not proud of, and I've done a lot of them for nothing more
noble than money. But this Gruber thing has changed me. Now, I want to stop him and his cronies, and it
isn't for money." He hesitated, choosing his words. "If I had a child, of eight or nine, and had to see it
become nothing more than a slave in a cocoa field, or a mine, or asweatshopand I could do nothing to
save it because I had no money at all..." He drew in a sharp breath.
"Cocoa field?" She moved closer to him, curious. "Little children?"
He nodded. "Little children. Some are sold for as little as eleven or twelve dollars, because their parents
can't provide for them and hope they'll find a better life working for some multinational corporation in
another country. But what happens is the children are taken away, worked up to eighteen hours a day
and beaten when they don't work. And they're never given a dime for their labors."
142 Diana Palmer
She gasped. "Good Lord! How can things like that happen in a civilized world?"
"Civilization isn't all that far-reaching," he told him. "Especially in developing nations which need
economic assistance just to keep their people from starving. Many of them look the other way when their
own citizens become slave dealers. But Gruber is setting a precedent-he's organizing a global labor pool
to sell to those corporations which will deal with him, to cut their production costs in a tightening retail
market that lowers their profits."
"That's dirty," she said icily.
"Dirty. Cowardly. Merciless. Yes, it is. And very few of the nations outside the industrial ones can, or
will, crack down on the labor exploitation. Some of it has been exposed on television news programs,
but it was mostly the use of child labor to produce retail merchandise for resale in this country and others.
And it was a sanitized version. They don't show the scarred little bodies, or the malnutrition, or the
squalor in which these children live." His face hardened. "Gruber also has a nice little prostitution racket
going, with the same source, which exploits young girls as sexual slaves. Imagine a twelve-yearoldgirl
who's never known a man, in a brothel where she's worked like a mule."
She could. She lowered her eyes, sickened. "He should be stopped."
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"I agree. But--'t he added, cupping her face in his hands "-you don't need to be involved in this. By
sticking your nose into it with Kit, you've put yourself square on the firing line. I can't let you get hurt. I'll
go see Lassiter tomorrow and we'll make plans. I know more about Gruber than he does, and I have
access to information even he can't get. I'll share."
Her eyes widened with fear. "But you could be hurt, too...!"
"Oh, I like that," he said in a husky tone. "I like having you afraid for me. You always have been. Why
didn't I see it?"
"You didn't want to," she said abruptly. "You've given up seeing things that make you feel."
He nodded slowly. "Yes. And so have you."
She couldn't deny it. "People can hurt you if you let them get too close," she murmured absently, lost in
his dark, warm eyes.
His thumb smoothed gently over her parted lips. "As I hurt you," he said quietly. "You can't imagine how
much I regret what I did to you, that night," he
added with genuine sorrow. "For years I dreamed
how it would be, to make love to you slowly and
gently, to bring soft little moans out of your throat
and make you fly into the sun with delight. And
when the opportunity finally presented itself," he
said on a heavy, harsh sigh, "I damaged you, in
every way possible."
144 Diana Palmer
She deliberated on what to say, on how to answer him. It was surprising that he'd thought about it
before it happened. "I didn't know ... that it would hurt so much." She couldn't tell him that she had all too
much knowledge of what happened between men and women, or that her past had convinced her that
sex would be easy for her if she could stomach it.
"You weren't ready for me," he said simply. "I didn't arouse you."
She searched his hard face with curious eyes. "Is that what happened, in your study the other night?" she
asked in a small voice. "Is that ... how it would have been if you'd been sober?"
"Yes," he replied. He traced her mouth with his forefinger. "I would have done that, and more."
"And it wouldn't ... have hurt?"
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"Maybe a little," he said honestly. He caught both her hands in his and held them. "A virgin's body is tight
inside," he said. It can be uncomfortable for a woman if she's not aroused properly first. The rush, plus
the alcohol, is what made it so painful for you."
"Oh."
His fingers entwined with hers, liking their warm softness in his grasp. "At least, there wasn't a physical
barrier to get out of the way."
She couldn't meet his eyes. She couldn't bear the memory. She couldn't even talk about it.
He seemed to understand. He bent and kissed her
Desperado 145
eyelids. "I'm not making accusations. I know you were a virgin, Maggie."
"How?" she blurted out.
"Because everything I did shocked you," he said flatly. "And because you were obviously uncomfortable
just at the last."
She colored, keeping her face down. Her hands, in his, were nerveless. "I was afraid of it."
"Of the pain," he agreed.
"No. Of the..." She swallowed. "It kept feeling better and better, and I thought I was going to burst
wide-open. I was afraid of the pleasure, it was going to be too much..."
He jerked her into his arms and held her hard,bruisingly hard. She could hear his heartbeat, strong and
fast against her breasts. He groaned once, harshly, and held her even closer.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
His cheek rubbed against hers. "At least you had something," he muttered.
Her fingers worried the pocket of his shirt. "If I'd given in, if I hadn't fought against it, what ... would
have happened?"
"Have you ever had a climax?" he whispered.
She jerked in his arms. She knew what he meant, even if she hadn't experienced it.
"No," she said after a minute.
His mouth touched her face lightly, his lips hot
and hungry as they moved onto her mouth and kissed it with growing insistence.
"Suppose," he whispered roughly, "you let me give you one."
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Her heart jumped. His hands had moved down to her hips and were pulling them rhythmically into his, in
the same way he had in the study, on the chaise lounge. Her body began to tauten, to bum with curiosity
and growing pleasure.
Her nails dug into his chest, but she didn't protest. She was curious. She was alive. She was hungry.
He moved, so that one long, lean leg slid in between both of hers and began to move in a slow, deadly
rhythm. Her body followed its darting motion, lifting toward it, hungry for the closeness of him.
"I can give you heaven," he murmured against her parted lips. "Let me."
She opened her mouth to his hot, deep kiss, moaning when it sparked off even more drugging sensations
of pleasure.
"Yes?" he whispered into her mouth. "Maggie, yes?"
She wanted to say the word. She shouldn't. It was wrong. He would despise her. He would taunt her
with it, as he had before. He would ... oh, if only he would never stop!
She moaned and her mouth tugged away from his
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just a breath, just enough to get that one word out that would open the gates to paradise, that would
make her his woman, truly his woman...!
The knock on the door was hard, loud and cruel. He jerked back from her like a man in a daze,
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