Free Outsider by Diana Palmer

consciously.” He studied her curiously, remembering what Hunter had said about her life. “You could have hired a private detective and found Bernadette’s father, forced him to pay child support,” he said bluntly.
    Her eyelids flickered, but she didn’t betray the unsettling feeling that remark provoked in her. Her arms folded tighter. “I had all the trouble I could handle, at the time,” she said quietly.
    â€œThings are different now.” He perched on the edge of his desk, his black eyes narrow and thoughtful. “I can find him, if you want me to.”
    Her face went pale. “I don’t,” she said firmly, and wouldn’t look him in the eye. “It’s ancient history.”
    â€œNot when you can’t even afford day care,” he retorted.
    Her eyes blazed. “That is none of your business,” she said hotly.
    â€œAnyone who comes into the building is my business, especially now.” He stood up. “We’ve got drug smugglers running around here with automatic weapons,” he said.
    â€œYes, I heard about the shoot-out,” she replied. “Miss Clayburn saved your life.” She didn’t add that her heart had almost stopped beating when she realized he could have died before she even knew he was here. All those years of pain and heartache, and she couldn’t stop worrying about him.
    â€œMine and Hunter’s and Cobb’s,” he agreed. “If they’re in the right sort of mood, drug smugglers will take out anything moving—including a child.”
    She knew more about that than he realized. “I hardly think they’re likely to attack the canteen,” she pointed out.
    â€œA week ago, I might have agreed with you.” He moved close to her suddenly, and she gazed up at him, too surprised to react.
    He stared down at her with angry dark eyes, memory haunting him as he recalled how she’d looked that one night, with her long blond hair around her head on the pillow, her brown eyes shocked as he touched her intimately, her gasp of pleasure followed by a moan so graphic…!
    He groaned under his breath as he saw the helpless attraction on her face. Amazing, he thought, after what he’d done to her.
    His right hand went hesitantly to her soft, flushed cheek and rested there gently. His dark eyes were full of shadows. “I’ve made a hell of a lot of mistakes in my life,” he said quietly. “I guess I didn’t think about the damage I did.”
    She stared back at him, a little unnerved by the contact, but too helplessly enthralled to move away from it. His touch still had the power to make her hungry. “You and Maureen left a trail of broken lives behind you and never looked back,” she accused huskily. “It’s a little late for an attack of conscience.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, broken lives?” he asked curiously.
    Her face closed up. “Maybe you’ll find out one day,” she said. Her voice shook as his thumb smoothed gently over her lower lip.
    He watched her reaction with almost clinical curiosity. “I drank like a fish,” he said unexpectedly. “I got into fights. I lost jobs. I ended up as close to the bottom as a man can get without dying. Then my best friend’s girl got me into therapy and I began to realize that I was self-destructive. Even so, it took a long time for me to get my life back together. I was obsessed with Maureen.”
    She drew away from the pressure of his hand. Maureen, again. It was always Maureen. Why did it still hurt, after all those years? “Perhaps if you’d stayed sober, you’d still be with her.”
    His voice was thick with pain when he said, “She didn’t want my children. She didn’t approve of racial mixing.”
    She almost bit her tongue trying not to react to that statement.
    â€œSo I suppose it was just as well that I was sterile,” he concluded