America.”
“I see.”
“What’s the matter, Sabrina? Isn’t the background of a cashiered Army officer romantic enough for you?”
She contemplated the bitterness beneath his grim flippancy. It sounded familiar, and she realized it was because she’d heard it in her own voice often during the past year. “You said you resigned.”
“In my case there wasn’t much difference.”
“If you want my opinion, you’re better off out of the military,” she declared abruptly. “Selling this week’s bestsellers to tourists is a much more honest way to make a living. Not to mention a much more honorable way.”
The whiskey glass in his hand came down on the table with a controlled crash. “Don’t lay your prim little liberal concepts of right and wrong on me, lady. I’m not interested in them. You know nothing about my career or what it meant to me.”
“I know about that knife you carry, and I can guess about things like covert missions in Central America,” she snapped, suppressing a twinge of alarm at his display of temper. “I’m not a big fan of the military mentality.”
“It’s probably not all that much different from the corporate mentality!”
“Exactly!” Sabrina sat back in her chair, crossing her legs with an aloof nonchalance she was far from feeling. “Just between you and me, I’m no fan of corporate life, either. The hierarchy is based on military protocol, and it shows. The men in command give orders as if they did so by divine right. I can just imagine how much worse it would be in the military, where there aren’t such things as unions and boards of directors and stockholders to intervene.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and justify my career in the Army,” Matt gritted savagely.
“Especially since you no longer have one to justify? Like I said, I think you’re better off out of it. If you want my opinion, the kind of skills you perfect running commando missions in Central America have nothing to recommend them.”
“I’ve already tried to indicate I don’t want your opinion. I think you’d better shut up, Sabrina, before we find ourselves at each other’s throats.”
“Good idea, especially given the fact that tonight you have the knife,” she agreed with saccharine charm. She could feel the adrenaline racing through her in much the same way it had last night when she hurled the knife into the wall beside Matt’s head. It didn’t take much intuition to know that Matt was equally alive with tension. She saw him draw a slow, steadying breath, and then a mask of control fell into place.
For just a few minutes there, Sabrina acknowledged, she had been able to read the raw expression in his eyes. Anger, bitterness, a distant pain, and an overall grimness had glittered in the hazel depths. All of that was gone, concealed now by the familiar hooded gaze. Only the grimness remained.
“I didn’t intend to spend the evening arguing with you,” he said quietly.
“I believe you.” Her voice was equally quiet.
For a moment they regarded each other in a manner that reminded Sabrina of two circling cats looking for an opening or a way to back down without losing face.
“Viewed very objectively,” Sabrina finally offered, “I suppose an outside observer might say we had something in common. Neither one of us appears to have gotten very far in the careers we originally chose for ourselves. In a way both of us managed to get cashiered.”
“With that understanding between us, do you think we can get through the rest of the evening in peace?” he wondered.
“I think so,” she agreed softly. “Tell me about the bookstore. I freely admit that my family is violently opposed to my new career.”
“Why?”
“They’re all bankers. I got a degree in accounting because I was more or less bullied into it. It was a barely acceptable alternative for someone from a banking family who had made it clear she definitely was not going to become a banker. Or
“I see.”
“What’s the matter, Sabrina? Isn’t the background of a cashiered Army officer romantic enough for you?”
She contemplated the bitterness beneath his grim flippancy. It sounded familiar, and she realized it was because she’d heard it in her own voice often during the past year. “You said you resigned.”
“In my case there wasn’t much difference.”
“If you want my opinion, you’re better off out of the military,” she declared abruptly. “Selling this week’s bestsellers to tourists is a much more honest way to make a living. Not to mention a much more honorable way.”
The whiskey glass in his hand came down on the table with a controlled crash. “Don’t lay your prim little liberal concepts of right and wrong on me, lady. I’m not interested in them. You know nothing about my career or what it meant to me.”
“I know about that knife you carry, and I can guess about things like covert missions in Central America,” she snapped, suppressing a twinge of alarm at his display of temper. “I’m not a big fan of the military mentality.”
“It’s probably not all that much different from the corporate mentality!”
“Exactly!” Sabrina sat back in her chair, crossing her legs with an aloof nonchalance she was far from feeling. “Just between you and me, I’m no fan of corporate life, either. The hierarchy is based on military protocol, and it shows. The men in command give orders as if they did so by divine right. I can just imagine how much worse it would be in the military, where there aren’t such things as unions and boards of directors and stockholders to intervene.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and justify my career in the Army,” Matt gritted savagely.
“Especially since you no longer have one to justify? Like I said, I think you’re better off out of it. If you want my opinion, the kind of skills you perfect running commando missions in Central America have nothing to recommend them.”
“I’ve already tried to indicate I don’t want your opinion. I think you’d better shut up, Sabrina, before we find ourselves at each other’s throats.”
“Good idea, especially given the fact that tonight you have the knife,” she agreed with saccharine charm. She could feel the adrenaline racing through her in much the same way it had last night when she hurled the knife into the wall beside Matt’s head. It didn’t take much intuition to know that Matt was equally alive with tension. She saw him draw a slow, steadying breath, and then a mask of control fell into place.
For just a few minutes there, Sabrina acknowledged, she had been able to read the raw expression in his eyes. Anger, bitterness, a distant pain, and an overall grimness had glittered in the hazel depths. All of that was gone, concealed now by the familiar hooded gaze. Only the grimness remained.
“I didn’t intend to spend the evening arguing with you,” he said quietly.
“I believe you.” Her voice was equally quiet.
For a moment they regarded each other in a manner that reminded Sabrina of two circling cats looking for an opening or a way to back down without losing face.
“Viewed very objectively,” Sabrina finally offered, “I suppose an outside observer might say we had something in common. Neither one of us appears to have gotten very far in the careers we originally chose for ourselves. In a way both of us managed to get cashiered.”
“With that understanding between us, do you think we can get through the rest of the evening in peace?” he wondered.
“I think so,” she agreed softly. “Tell me about the bookstore. I freely admit that my family is violently opposed to my new career.”
“Why?”
“They’re all bankers. I got a degree in accounting because I was more or less bullied into it. It was a barely acceptable alternative for someone from a banking family who had made it clear she definitely was not going to become a banker. Or
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