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Authors: Jayne Castle
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closing it firmly over hers. The hazel
eyes were dark and insistent. "Honey, I'm sorry. That's all I can
say. I never meant it to get out of hand."
She lifted her brows in mocking inquiry. "Oh? You didn't mean to
actually carry the little lesson through to the end? You would
have stopped before the actual act of rape?"
She could have sworn a hint of red stained his cheeks. Matt
withdrew his hand from hers. "I thought we agreed on a truce this
evening. You're definitely on the attack."
"Ummm. So I am. Can't imagine what provoked me. Well, think of it
as an armed truce. What finally happened to Ginny?"
"I'll skip over the gory details of my failed marriage. To
summarize briefly, Ginny decided eventually that she had to find
herself and she couldn't do it as my wife. She left me officially
shortly before I screwed things up on that job in Central America.
Ginny always did have a great sense of timing. She's remarried
now. A successful executive type. And she's got Brad."
"Brad?"
"My son. He's thirteen," Matt said shortly.
Sensing depressing vibrations around that topic, Sabrina found
herself going on to another. "And the bookstore? How did you get
into that?"
"I started that when I realized I needed money to keep on eating
as well as a job to keep me from spending too much time in these
expensive tourist bars. Another drink?"
"Please." Sabrina waited while he gave the order. "Do you ever
think of going back to the States?"
"Maybe. Someday. But I like Mexico, and to tell you the truth,
you were right about my former career not teaching me a lot of
useful skills. Me being out of the country makes things easier on
my family, too. Easier for them to pretend the blot on the family
escutcheon doesn't exist."
"Families have a way of making one aware of one's failings, even
when they're trying to be supportive." Sabrina lifted her fresh
Margarita in salute. "Here's to escutcheon blots and those of us
who make them. Think how bored all of our relatives would be
without us!"
Matt grinned suddenly, the first full-fledged wickedly male smile
she had yet witnessed from him, and Sabrina found herself downing
an oversize swallow of the Margarita. There was something very
intriguing about that grin. It was unexpectedly charming, full of
unabashedly virile promise and a hint of sheer male challenge. It
made her realize just why she had taken the risk of approaching
him in the bar last night. He drank to her irreverent toast and
then he took her in to dinner.
The armed truce survived the elegantly prepared seafood dinner.
It survived the Mexican-made, coffee-based liqueur Matt insisted
Sabrina try. It even survived the drive back to Sabrina's hotel.
Things didn't get shaky, in fact, until Matt led Sabrina to her
door and she have him her hand in a pointedly formal gesture of
farewell.
"Thank you, Matt. All things considered, it was a very pleasant
evening."
"Sabrina?" He stood unmoving, staring down at her outstretched
hand.
"Were there any further explanations you wanted to make?" she
asked politely.
"No, but I thought we could talk a little more." He looked down
into her eyes, his own gaze clearly reflecting the controlled
desire he was feeling.
"Good night, Matt."
"Sabrina … ?" His rough fingertips moved delicately across her
wrist.
"No," she said gently. "Absolutely, unequivocally, no."
"You don't trust me?" he whispered softly.
"With my life, perhaps," she smiled whimsically, "but not in bed.
Chalk it up to the lesson you taught me last night. Good night."
Very firmly she stepped inside the room and shut the door in his
face.
Matt stood there a moment longer and then turned to leave. As he
did so his glance fell on the gash his knife had left in the
corridor wall on the previous occasion when he had said good-night
to Sabrina Chase.
"You're improving, August. Things are definitely looking up." Or
were they? It was
eyes were dark and insistent. "Honey, I'm sorry. That's all I can
say. I never meant it to get out of hand."
She lifted her brows in mocking inquiry. "Oh? You didn't mean to
actually carry the little lesson through to the end? You would
have stopped before the actual act of rape?"
She could have sworn a hint of red stained his cheeks. Matt
withdrew his hand from hers. "I thought we agreed on a truce this
evening. You're definitely on the attack."
"Ummm. So I am. Can't imagine what provoked me. Well, think of it
as an armed truce. What finally happened to Ginny?"
"I'll skip over the gory details of my failed marriage. To
summarize briefly, Ginny decided eventually that she had to find
herself and she couldn't do it as my wife. She left me officially
shortly before I screwed things up on that job in Central America.
Ginny always did have a great sense of timing. She's remarried
now. A successful executive type. And she's got Brad."
"Brad?"
"My son. He's thirteen," Matt said shortly.
Sensing depressing vibrations around that topic, Sabrina found
herself going on to another. "And the bookstore? How did you get
into that?"
"I started that when I realized I needed money to keep on eating
as well as a job to keep me from spending too much time in these
expensive tourist bars. Another drink?"
"Please." Sabrina waited while he gave the order. "Do you ever
think of going back to the States?"
"Maybe. Someday. But I like Mexico, and to tell you the truth,
you were right about my former career not teaching me a lot of
useful skills. Me being out of the country makes things easier on
my family, too. Easier for them to pretend the blot on the family
escutcheon doesn't exist."
"Families have a way of making one aware of one's failings, even
when they're trying to be supportive." Sabrina lifted her fresh
Margarita in salute. "Here's to escutcheon blots and those of us
who make them. Think how bored all of our relatives would be
without us!"
Matt grinned suddenly, the first full-fledged wickedly male smile
she had yet witnessed from him, and Sabrina found herself downing
an oversize swallow of the Margarita. There was something very
intriguing about that grin. It was unexpectedly charming, full of
unabashedly virile promise and a hint of sheer male challenge. It
made her realize just why she had taken the risk of approaching
him in the bar last night. He drank to her irreverent toast and
then he took her in to dinner.
The armed truce survived the elegantly prepared seafood dinner.
It survived the Mexican-made, coffee-based liqueur Matt insisted
Sabrina try. It even survived the drive back to Sabrina's hotel.
Things didn't get shaky, in fact, until Matt led Sabrina to her
door and she have him her hand in a pointedly formal gesture of
farewell.
"Thank you, Matt. All things considered, it was a very pleasant
evening."
"Sabrina?" He stood unmoving, staring down at her outstretched
hand.
"Were there any further explanations you wanted to make?" she
asked politely.
"No, but I thought we could talk a little more." He looked down
into her eyes, his own gaze clearly reflecting the controlled
desire he was feeling.
"Good night, Matt."
"Sabrina … ?" His rough fingertips moved delicately across her
wrist.
"No," she said gently. "Absolutely, unequivocally, no."
"You don't trust me?" he whispered softly.
"With my life, perhaps," she smiled whimsically, "but not in bed.
Chalk it up to the lesson you taught me last night. Good night."
Very firmly she stepped inside the room and shut the door in his
face.
Matt stood there a moment longer and then turned to leave. As he
did so his glance fell on the gash his knife had left in the
corridor wall on the previous occasion when he had said good-night
to Sabrina Chase.
"You're improving, August. Things are definitely looking up." Or
were they? It was
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