Trading Secrets by Jayne Castle Page B

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.”
    “Were you the kid’s mistress?”
    “I keep having to remind everyone that the kid was twenty-six years old!”
    “Were you his mistress?”
    “No, damn it, I was not his mistress. We dated occasionally, had some things in common, and that was the extent of the relationship. That’s also the extent of my explanations on the subject. How did I let you push me into talking about it, anyway?” She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not and she told herself it didn’t matter. “I think I’m the one who asked the original question about mysterious backgrounds. You owe me some answers now that I’ve let you pull my life story out of me.”
    “I didn’t get your life story. All I got were a few bare facts. I still don’t understand why you left California.”
    “Let’s just say the situation became distinctly uncomfortable. Have you ever had your name plastered across the newspapers? Had people look at you as if you were some form of lowlife that had had the nerve to crawl out from under a rock? Have you walked into a room and known that you were the subject of conversation before you arrived? Been the subject of rumors and speculation? Had unpleasant names attached to you? Been blamed for a tragedy? Had a career ruined?”
    “Sure.”
    Sabrina nearly fell off her seat. Recovering rapidly, she gulped at her Margarita and shot her companion a fiercely accusing glance. “It’s not funny, Matt.”
    “Do I look like I’m laughing?”
    It was her turn to study him intently. The hazel gaze never wavered from hers as she did so. “No,” Sabrina finally said slowly, “you don’t look as though you’re laughing. The ‘ex’ part of the ex-major wasn’t voluntary?”
    He lifted one shoulder. “If I hadn’t resigned I probably would have been court-martialed.”
    “Why?” she demanded in a low, tight voice.
    “A covert mission that didn’t stay covert. When the media learned of it, someone had to take the fall. I was the officer in charge.”
    “Where?”
    “Central