Trading Secrets (6 page)

Forcing himself to deal with the situation in the calm, relentlessly logical fashion that in another life had been one of his trademarks, Matt began searching the area in a systematic pattern. He had some time, he told himself as he fought down the anxiety. She’d only been under about three minutes.

The seconds ticked past with an inexorable swiftness that began to lay a foundation for panic. Matt pushed himself, broadening the search pattern as rapidly as possible. There was no sign of her pale skin against the dark gloom of the reef. Perhaps she had gone around to the other side. Could she have slipped around the far end without his noticing? It was possible.

Damn it, he’d strangle her if she was cheerfully swimming around on the opposite side while he frantically hunted for her over here. Matt lifted his head and struck out for the tip of the reef. It would be too risky trying to swim over the top. There wasn’t enough clearance. He’d get his chest shredded on the sharp, crusty projections.

Kicking furiously, he rounded the corner of the reef and came face to face with Sabrina. She was calmly clearing her mask. Matt felt his insides grow hot and then cold as relief battled with the remnants of fear.

“So there you are. Not half-drowned by sucking in when you should have blown out. Or caught on the reef, or stung by something pretty but poisonous.”

Sabrina blinked, startled by the unexpected encounter. She pushed the mask up on her head. “What on earth are you doing here?” She treaded water as he glowered at her.

“I came to talk to you.”

“You picked an odd location. Or did you think it might be easier to try your hand at rape out here in the middle of nowhere instead of in a crowded hotel?”

He made an obvious effort at controlling himself. “Have you had enough swimming for today?” Matt asked with a strained, artificial politeness.

“I think so,” Sabrina said. She had been about to head back toward shore. Without waiting for him, she struck out toward the shallower water. What was he doing here? she wondered. And why was she experiencing this odd combination of wariness and anticipation? The unexpected encounter had startled her, but damned if she would let him see just how much of a shock it had been. Aware of him swimming powerfully alongside, Sabrina made her way steadily toward the shore.

“Sabrina, what you were doing was stupid, idiotic, and totally lacking in sense. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to go diving alone,” Matt growled as they found their footing and straightened to walk through the water to the sandy beach. “A lot of very nasty things can happen along a reef like that. You know that, don’t you?”

“I certainly do now. Thank you for the diving lesson,” she retorted as she pulled off the mask and snorkel. She shoved the hair out of her eyes and slid him a sidelong glance. He was looking distinctly annoyed.

“What would you have done if you’d gotten into trouble out there?” he went on grimly as he strode onto the beach.

“I always carry a dime for an emergency phone call.”

Apparently he wasn’t looking for flippancy by way of response. His hand moved, making her flinch, but he only closed his rough-tipped fingers lightly around the nape of her neck.

“Lady, you just scared the hell out of me. I expect an apology.”

Sabrina stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“I thought you’d gone under and weren’t coming back up,” he explained very distinctly.

“Oh.” For the first time she realized that the irritation in those cool gray eyes was based on something more than masculine impatience. “Had a shock, did you? Well, I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to scare you. It would be easier to apologize, though, if you’d stop chewing me out. You sound like an Army drill sergeant.”

“Major.”

Sabrina tilted her head inquiringly. “I beg your pardon?”

“An Army major.” He sighed, bending down to pick up his shirt. “Ex.”

“How ex?” Strangely curious, she trailed along be-hind him until she reached the point where she had left her towel.

“I resigned my commission nearly two years ago.”

“Oh, then that explains it.”

“Explains what? Lady, if I hadn’t made up my mind to talk to you in a civil manner this morning, I might be inclined to take offense at your tone,” he drawled with soft warning.

Sabrina decided to ignore the threatening tone. Considering the fact that she had told herself she didn’t particularly want to see Matt August again, she discovered her curiosity was still running high. “What are you doing here, Matt? Shouldn’t you be back at the store and getting ready for another fun night in Acapulco?”

His mouth tightened. “What does it look like I was doing? I was following you.” He pulled on his boots. “Come on. I’ve got another towel in the jeep.”

“Why?”

“I keep one handy in case I decide to take an unexpected swim,” he returned a little too pleasantly as he started toward the cliff.

“I mean, why were you following me?” She found herself trailing him obediently. The knowledge annoyed her. She wondered why she was doing it and then realized it had to do with the fact that there was a touch of command in the way he spoke. It was a part of him, she realized; a faint hint of an innate ability to demand cooperation and obedience from others. Some people were born with it. In the corporate world they became financially successful. In the military world they could become very dangerous. It occurred to her that there had probably been a time when men had moved very quickly in response to Matt August’s commands.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he explained evenly as they reached the open jeep parked on the cliff. He rested one foot against the fender and pulled up the damp cuff of his khaki slacks. “I wanted to explain about last night. Hand me that towel, will you?”

Sabrina bit back a sharp response and handed him the towel that was lying folded on the backseat. She watched as he unbuckled the wet leather sheath and removed the knife. Carefully he wiped the blade, his brows in an intent, heavy line as he performed the small task.

“You show a lot of concern for that thing,” Sabrina muttered.

“Old habits die hard. Besides, Kirby would have my head if he thought I wasn’t taking proper care of his creation.”

“Who’s Kirby?”

“The man who made this knife. He’s an artist in his own way. One of the finest craftsmen I’ve ever met.” Matt shook his head in disgust. “He’d have collapsed laughing if he could have seen me last night.”

“Never found yourself on the business end of a knife before?” Sabrina taunted coolly.

“Sure. But not one of my own.”

The calm, flat way he admitted it made Sabrina unexpectedly nervous. She found herself wondering what happened to the other people in the world who had pulled knives on ex-Major Matt August. Then she reconsidered the fact that ex-Major August was now running a tourist bookshop in balmy Acapulco, Mexico. Perhaps he hadn’t been all that good at being a major.

“Get in and I’ll take you back to the hotel.” Matt put a hand on the edge of the windshield and challenged her with a cool glance. “We can have a cup of coffee or something.”

“The cabdriver is returning for me in another hour,” she told him, wishing desperately that she could read the look in Matt’s shuttered eyes. This was the man who had tried to rape her last night, she reminded herself. She must be out of her head even to think of climbing into the jeep and accepting a ride back into town.

“If he doesn’t find another fare in the meantime.” Matt waited.

On the other hand, this was also the man she had intuitively selected out of a crowd last night, Sabrina told herself. Even in the broad light of day, knowing what she did about him, Sabrina’s instincts still responded sharply to his presence. He was quite sober this morning. If she could handle him last night when he’d had too much to drink, she could handle him this morning. Besides, he was probably right about the cabdriver.

“Please, Sabrina. I want to talk.”

Sabrina made her decision. She swung herself lightly up into the passenger side of the jeep without a word. Matt was in beside her, turning the key in the ignition before she could change her mind.

“I’m surprised anyone takes a chance on driving in Mexico,” Sabrina observed as he guided the jeep nimbly onto the road toward town. “Just being at the scene of an accident is a crime here, isn’t it? I’ve heard that Mexican law is based on the Napoleonic Code. Guilty until proven innocent.”

“I’ve got insurance that buys me some protection, and I know who to contact to buy the remainder if I ever need it,” Matt answered with a shrug. “Close your eyes if my driving makes you nervous.”

“I think I can handle it with my eyes open.”

“I think you can, too. You’re the lady who sublimates with an Alfa Romeo, aren’t you?”

“I see you weren’t too drunk to remember a few details from our scintillating conversation last night,” she said sweetly.

“What does it take to knock the sass out of you?”

“More artillery than you’ve got to throw into action.” She grinned with sudden cheerfulness, relaxing into her seat, feeling quite sure of herself now.

“In that case,” he murmured, “there’s no reason why you should be afraid to have dinner with me tonight, is there?”

She slanted him a speculative glance. “You never give up, do you?”

“Must be the military in me. Seven thirty? Mexicans dine late. We’ll have a couple of drinks and I’ll try to explain what happened last night.”

“There’s no need to explain. Believe me, it was very obvious! Don’t close your eyes like that,” she added abruptly. “You’re supposed to be driving.”

“I’m asking a higher authority for patience.”

“No point. You said yourself you’re not in the military any longer.” She chuckled, feeling quite satisfied with the knowledge that she could hold her own with Matt August.

“Dinner, Sabrina?”

“Are you groveling, Matt?”

“I’m trying.”

“All right, then. Seven thirty. A public restaurant, not your home, and I want the restaurant located in town, not five miles out,” she stipulated.

“Cautious little thing, aren’t you?”

“Do you blame me?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven thirty,” he said grimly. Life was turning complicated, Matt reflected. For the past two years everything had been very simple here in Mexico. Maybe too simple. Dealing with Sabrina was showing him just how accustomed to drifting he had become.

Life’s complications were also, on Sabrina’s mind later that evening as she shared a small table with Matt in another of Acapulco’s breeze-cooled terrace bars. Matt had chosen a different hotel this evening and she wondered if it was because he had not wanted to dredge up recent memories by taking her back to her own hotel lounge.

The low, ruffled neckline of the summer white dress she wore left Sabrina’s throat and shoulders deliciously bare to the balmy night. The wide skirt was held at the waist by a huge, brassy leather belt she had found in the local market that afternoon; another garish contribution to her growing collection of Mexican souvenirs. It took a professional such as herself, she’d decided, to truly appreciate the fine art of totally tasteless souvenirs. Matt, as usual, was dressed in a freshly pressed shirt and strictly creased trousers. Such uncompromising neatness, even in this climate. The military in him, she decided.

“What are you thinking about, Sabrina?” He sipped his whiskey and eyed her intently. “You look as though you’re laughing at a very private joke.”

She shook her head in quick denial. “Only at you.” She smiled.

“Well, that’s a step ahead of having you hurl knives at me, I suppose.”

“Ever the philosopher,” she complained. “How did you wind up running a bookstore in Acapulco, Matt?”

“How did you wind up in Dallas?” he countered.

“That’s easy. I got kicked out of California.” The humor chilled in her eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I thought California tolerated just about anything and anyone. What did you do that was so weird they had to kick you out?”

“If I told you that I seduced an innocent young man and convinced him to sell industrial secrets to the enemy and that his father later took such offense when the FBI arrested his son that he told me to get out of the state, would you believe me?”

Matt studied her for a full minute. “I think you’re serious,” he finally allowed cautiously.

“Well, that’s the father’s version of the story. Mine’s somewhat different.”

“Meaning you deny seducing the kid into selling secrets?”

“He wasn’t a kid. He was twenty-six at the time.”

Matt frowned. “He was still a kid.”

“Funny. That’s what his father said,” Sabrina remarked. “I wonder at what age men are supposed to grow up?”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-nine. Fully adult and willing to admit it.”

“Did he sell the secrets?”

She nodded. “High-tech computer information. It happens more frequently than anyone wants to admit. The authorities say that the usual scenario is for a man to get in over his head either with the IRS or a woman, and the next thing he knows a very nice gentleman with a foreign accent comes along and offers to help him out of the financial difficulties. The very nice gentleman doesn’t say he’s affiliated with the KGB, of course. He usually claims to be from a Western country that basically has the same interests as the U.S. at heart. And of course the device won’t be used for military purposes. It’s just a business deal without going through the usual bothersome government red tape. Somehow the stuff just happens to wind up in the wrong hands.”

“The IRS or a woman, hmmm?” Matt looked pensive. “Where do you fit in?”

“Well, I’ll give you a clue. I wasn’t from the IRS,” Sabrina shot back bitterly. “His father decided I must be the expensive mistress. The poor boy had to resort to selling out his company’s secrets just to keep me in the opulent style I demanded.”

“Where’s this poor boy now?”

“One of those minimum security federal prisons. I doubt he’ll be there very long. His father can afford the very best legal talents and probably some not-so-legal talents, too. Look, Matt, this really isn’t one of my favorite topics of conversation.”