Trading Secrets by Jayne Castle

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