by Jayne Castle
“Perfect?” he bent his head to find the curve of her throat. “I feel fine, honey. Just fine. Believe me, as far as I’m concerned, everything’s perfect.”
“It’s just that I don’t want, that is, I’m not quite ready,” she tried to say, only to have the words cut off as he moved his mouth from her throat to her lips. She felt herself being crushed back into the pillows as he tangled his heavy leg between her thighs. Then she shivered as his hand slipped down her breasts to the small curve of her stomach. Sabrina’s breath came more quickly as excitement began to flare again within her.
“You’ve got a lot to tease a man with, Sabrina, honey. There’s something tantalizing about this soft, sleek little body. Reminds me of a cat. You won’t have any trouble finding men to take you up on your midnight offers. All you’ll have to do is walk up to them in a bar the way you did tonight.”
“Matt, wait, I told you I need time!” She was suddenly very conscious of the whiskey on his breath. Sabrina wondered how many drinks he’d had before she’d ambled into the bar and found him there.
“Honey, there’s something you should know about picking up strangers. They’re not always inclined to play the part of elegant gentlemen lovers. Why should they? They’ll never see you again. Why shouldn’t they take what they want?”
“Stop it, Matt, you’ll ruin everything,” she begged, shutting her eyes against the unnatural glitter in his gaze. Why was he doing this? She had been so sure he was the right man; had been so certain his gruffness was simply a function of his basically straightforward personality. Normally her instincts about people were sound. But it was becoming very clear that the romantic interlude she had counted on was rapidly turning into a disaster.
“This is what you wanted, Sabrina. You wanted a man for the night. Well, this is how it works in real life. It’s no moonlit fantasy. Just sex, pure and simple, and it’s all a strange man in a bar is going to want from you. Now stop nagging and play your part. Spread your legs, baby, and give me what you’ve been promising all evening.”
Her eyes slitted open as he used his knee to force apart her thighs. For the first time real panic set in.
“Get off of me,” she hissed. “Stop it, do you hear me? Get off of me right now!”
“Why should I? You can hardly call it rape. You told me more than once tonight that you want me. So take me!”
Sabrina’s lips opened in shock as she felt his hardness thrusting between her legs. “Damn it, no!” She pushed at him frantically.
He shut off the cry of protest by overwhelming her mouth with his plunging tongue. In the next instant Sabrina knew he would be forcing his way inside her and she would be helpless. Desperately she snapped her teeth around his tongue and doubled her hands into fists. She slammed at him with all her might.
“Goddamn it, lady, this is what you wanted!” he bit out savagely as he hurriedly withdrew from her mouth. “You said you wanted it!”
“Not like this! Damn you!” She raked his sides with her nails. “Get away from me!” She managed to twist her body so that she could get her knee free, and when she tried to bring it forcibly up toward his crotch, Matt seemed to realize she was going to fight to the bitter end.
“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, fending off her knee. “You vicious little—!” He muttered an exclamation of disgust and outrage and lifted himself away from her completely. Rolling over onto his back, he threw one arm over his eyes, and took a deep breath.
Sabrina lay very still for a moment, violently aware of what had almost happened. She fought for breath and some comprehension of the situation.
“You must hate me,” she whispered finally, sitting up shakily and sliding off her side of the bed. “What have I ever done to you that you should want to treat me like this? You don’t even know me.”
“No.” The single word was a muffled curse. Matt didn’t lift his arm from his eyes. His chest still heaved with the effort he was exerting to regain control of himself. He didn’t move as she got to her feet beside the bed.
She was conscious of an ache in the strained muscles of her inner thighs as she slowly calmed herself. Awkwardly she found her way to the closet and pulled out the light robe she had brought with her for the trip. Fingers trembling, she knotted it tightly around her waist and then walked unevenly to the open window and filled her lungs with deep, steadying breaths.
“Oh, Christ, Sabrina. I’m sorry.” The words were flat, without any inflection.
It took Sabrina a moment to find her own voice. “Do you mind telling me why?” she asked. Her eyes remained focused unseeingly on the lights of the cruise ship.
“It’s a long story. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“I think that’s debatable.” Her whole body felt used and he had the nerve to tell her his actions had nothing to do with her? A slow rage finally began to burn away some of the numbness she had been feeling since she had arisen from the bed.
“Look, let’s just write it off to one too many whiskeys, okay?”
“Too much alcohol?” she replied sharply, aware that he was sitting up slowly. She didn’t turn around. “I’m expected to excuse near rape because you’ve had too much to drink?”
“Sabrina,” he muttered, “it’s complicated. I can’t even explain it all myself tonight. It’s late, I’ve had too much to drink, and I—”
“And let’s not forget your hard day,” she reminded him too sweetly.
“They’re all hard these days,” he grunted.
She drew another deep breath. “Just tell me one thing. I got the feeling you hated me. But we only met this evening. Were you confusing me with someone else? Were you so damn drunk you thought I was another woman?”
“Hell, no. It was nothing like that.” He was on his feet now. She could feel him coming up behind her, although he made no sound on the cool slate floor. Sabrina still didn’t turn. She didn’t want to face him. “If you weren’t confusing me with someone else, then why?” she demanded tightly.
His hands came up to close around her upper arms and he tugged her gently back against him. “Sabrina, I’m sorry. I guess I had some notion of doing the guy back in Dallas a favor or something. Shit, I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve had too much to drink!”
“And you’ve had a tough day! What guy back in Dallas?”
“Forget it. Things got a little out of hand. I understand you’re a bit upset right now, but—”
“Your perception is definitely improving with every second! Who the hell do you think you are?”
He turned her gently to face him, his eyes dark and brooding as he gazed down into her stormy features. “I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. Come back to bed with me and I’ll make you forget what just happened.”
“You must be out of your mind! Get out of here. Do you hear me? Get out of here before I call the house detective or whatever they use here in Mexico!”
“Easy,” he soothed, moving his thumbs in gentling motions on her jaw. “Take it easy, honey. This time will be different. I’ll make it good for you; I promise. I’ll—”
“You’re not only drunk, you’re crazy. And to think you’re trying to justify your actions by telling me you’ve had one too many whiskeys.”
“It’s more complicated than that, but I don’t think I can explain it very clearly tonight,” he muttered. “Sabrina, will you please calm down? You’re getting hysterical.”
“I’m getting goddamned furious!”
“This time we’ll do things right,” he promised, trying to pull her back into his arms.
“You can say that again! This time I’m going to throw you out before you have a chance to play any more weird games!”
“Sabrina!”
But she had already broken free of his grasp and was rushing across the room to the side of the bed on which he’d lain. Scooping up the leather sheath that he’d placed on the floor, she fumbled with the handle of the knife and then whipped out the sleek blade. Moonlight gleamed on the sha
rp, savage length of it. “I said get out of here, Matt. Get dressed and get out. Right now.”
“Put down the knife, Sabrina.” This time there was soft command in his tone. Matt’s voice had taken on the same cold edge as the steel she was holding.
“I’m not putting it down until you leave.”
“Damn it, stop acting hysterical and give me that knife.” Imperiously he held out his hand as he walked deliberately forward.
“I’ll give you about five seconds to get into your slacks, then I’m tossing you out into the hall. If you want to run through Acapulco stark naked, that’s your business.”
“Sabrina, you’re being ridiculous. For God’s sake be careful with that thing,” he added quickly as she raised it menacingly. “It’s not some rusty pocketknife. It’ll cut your hand to ribbons if you don’t watch it.”
“Think what it will do to some of the more useless portions of your anatomy.” Her eyes dropped scathingly down his chest to his naked thighs.
“Oh, shit. I can’t believe this. Sabrina, you’re out of your head.” But Matt reached for his slacks and yanked them on with more haste than he had planned. He was aware of just how sharp the blade of the boot knife was, even if she wasn’t, and it was distinctly uncomfortable having her wave it around like that. Christ, if Kirby could see him now, dodging his own weapon, he’d probably laugh himself sick.
“Hurry up!”
“Sabrina, we’ll talk in the morning when you’ve had a chance to calm down.” Matt edged toward the door, collecting his shirt and shoving his feet into his boots.
“I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”
“Honey, we got off to a rocky start, but if you think it’s going to end here—”
“I don’t think it’s going to end here,” she hissed, “I know it’s going to end here. Because I’m putting a stop to it!” She motioned aggressively with the knife and Matt found himself moving respectfully back a pace.
“I’m leaving but I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Out!”
“Okay, okay!” He opened the door and stepped into the hall, feeling like an idiot having to retreat before his own knife. Any attempt to take it away from Sabrina was going to enrage her further and they’d probably both get cut in the process. “Give me the knife before I leave, Sabrina. It’s not a toy and it’s not a tool. It’s a weapon, and I don’t want you accidentally hurting yourself with it.”
“You want this damn knife? You can have it!”
Before he realized her intention she had raised the blade to shoulder height and hurled it as if it were a baseball. Matt sucked in his breath as the polished steel blade whipped end over end faster than the eye could see and landed with a solid thunk in the corridor wall behind him.
Stunned, he turned to stare at the vibrating handle. He was watching it in fascination as she tossed the knife sheath at his feet. Matt was still staring at the blade when the door to Sabrina’s room slammed shut.
A lucky throw in more ways than one. She must have been standing at just the right distance. A few feet farther forward or a step backward and the knife would have struck the wall on the flat side and clattered to the floor.
On the other hand, a foot or so to the right and the thing would have buried itself to the hilt in his shoulder.
“Well, shit.”
Gingerly Matt pried the blade free from the wall and picked up the sheath. With a last glance at Sabrina’s locked door he started down the corridor to the elevators.
It really had been a rough day.
Chapter Two
Sabrina went eyeball to eyeball with a small, brilliant-orange fish that had just darted out from the protection of the reef. She blinked slowly at it through the diving mask, and the nervous creature flashed back toward the convoluted reef.
Sabrina watched it disappear and considered the proposition that there was no justice in the universe. The proposition was false, of course. The universe was full of justice: manmade justice. And it varied from man to man. Perhaps it was some defect intrinsic to the masculine mentality that made the male of the species so determined to exert his authority. It seemed to Sabrina that she had spent a good chunk of her life defending herself against authoritarian types. At one time or another she’d done battle with everyone from her father to her schoolteachers, employers, and the IRS. The world at large had trouble handling an independent person like herself, and men in particular had trouble with the notion. Last night wasn’t the first time she’d run afoul of some male’s embittered attempt to even his score with life by punishing her.
But the last time it had been tried Sabrina had at least known why she had come under fire. Floating in the clear tranquil waters this morning, she made another stab at trying to understand what had gone wrong last night, and failed. It was decidedly disgusting to discover that her normally sound intuition had fallen short on this occasion. Perhaps she could just blame it on the Margaritas and forget all about it.
She dismissed that approach when she recalled that August had used his one-too-many whiskeys as an excuse. Damned if she would lower herself to his level when it came to rationalizing!
No, last night had been a mistake. It wouldn’t happen again. Besides, in the end, she had handled a potentially dangerous encounter intelligently enough to emerge unscathed. Assuming one discounted the vague muscle ache in her thighs, of course, she added with a mental wince. Matt August was a strong, toughly built male. The struggle could have ended disastrously. Still, she had handled him.
It was an entirely different situation from the mess in which she had become involved in California. She’d had no control at all over those events and the memory of how she had let a man cast her in the role of victim still rankled. In spite of her determination to put it all behind her, stray thoughts of that devastating experience on the West Coast flickered through her mind.
Talbot Sheffield had been forty-nine, only twenty-three years older than his son Greg, whom Sabrina had been dating just before everything collapsed around the younger man. One year less than fifty, his body still astonishingly fit, silver hair thick and eye-catching, the president of his own computer software firm, Talbot Sheffield was a man at the height of his power and knew it. The quintessential aggressive, successful businessman. From the moment she’d first been introduced to him, Sabrina had kept her distance. He was exactly the sort of male she preferred to avoid.
His son Greg, on the other hand, displayed absolutely no indication of following in his father’s footsteps. Easygoing, amiable, and fun-loving described Greg Sheffield. Sabrina had liked him at once. Her feelings for the man had never gone much deeper than friendly affection, but she had empathized with him, knowing herself what it was like to grow up with a forceful, domineering father.
In spite of his casual attitude toward life Greg had had enough perception to foresee the difficulties that would arise if he chose to work for his father. Instead he had taken a middle-management position at a computer design company elsewhere in California’s Silicon Valley, and that’s where he and Sabrina had met. She had been a low-level manager in the accounting department. It wasn’t Sabrina’s first entry-level management position. She had started out in a number of them at various companies since graduating from college. But because of an unfortunate tendency to tell higher management what she thought, she rarely climbed any higher on the corporate ladder. While Greg was not outspoken the way Sabrina tended to be, they had shared similar views of the corporate environment.
But it wasn’t Greg’s sandy-brown hair and vivid blue eyes that Sabrina recalled this morning. It was Talbot’s already magnificently silvered head and the blue eyes that had burned with a father’s fury as he faced her in her own office.
“You cheap, conniving little bitch,” he had flung at her. “It should be you the FBI arrested last night, and you goddamned well know it. You’re the reason Greg did it. If it hadn’t been for you—”
“Mr. Sheffield, I had nothing to do with it!
I had no idea Greg was even involved in such activities!”
“The hell you didn’t! You were his mistress. You were the one who made the financial demands on him; the one who pushed him into doing anything he had to do in order to get the cash to keep you happy!”
“That’s insane!” White-faced with resentment and the first stirrings of genuine fear, Sabrina had stood her ground. “I can understand how you feel, Mr. Sheffield, but that doesn’t give you the right to blame me for Greg’s behavior. I don’t know why Greg sold company secrets, and neither do you. But it certainly wasn’t because of me!”
“Don’t hand me that crap about understanding how I feel, you bitch. I watched them arrest my only son last night!” His hand came down in a frustrated fist on her desk. “My son! Someday he would have taken over my firm. He had everything going for him. Only a woman could have pushed him into doing what he did, and I know damn well you’re the woman who did it!”
“Greg and I have been seeing each other for the past couple of months, but that’s the extent of the relationship,” Sabrina had protested angrily. “I’m not some femme fatale, for God’s sake, I’m an accountant!”
“You’re sleeping with him. You’re his mistress. Don’t you think I know that? I’ve seen the two of you together. Hell, I’ve even taken you both out to dinner a few times. I saw how Greg looked at you. You had him under your spell, didn’t you? The poor kid was enthralled!”
“Greg is twenty-six years old! Hardly a kid.”
“At twenty-six any male is still a kid,” Sheffield had blazed.
“Well, I’m only twenty-nine. Why don’t you make the same ridiculous allowance for me?” she’d shot back unwisely.
Sheffield had stepped around the desk and seized her, his hands digging into her upper arms as he shook her the way a wolf would shake a small cat, as if he wanted to break her neck. Sabrina had known real fear then.
“Women like you are born full-fledged adult piranhas. You have no business seducing kids like Greg!”
