by Jayne Castle
“Then why don’t we eat at my place?” Sabrina heard herself suggest without stopping to think. “We can grill hamburgers outside on the barbecue. Tell Brad to bring a swimsuit. My apartment complex has a pool.”
Matt looked abruptly relieved. “Thanks. We’ll be there at six thirty.” He turned and walked out of the shop without another word. Sabrina stared thoughtfully after him.
Several hours later Sabrina picked up two large packages of potato chips, a great deal of hamburger, and an enormous quantity of buns. It had been a long time since Nolan and Jeffrey were thirteen, but she’d never forgotten the huge piles of food young teenage boys could pack away. Just as she’d never forgotten the piles of laundry that accumulated in a household filled with men. She’d been the younger sister but the only female around, and somehow she’d wound up doing most of the laundry. She still retained an innate hatred for hampers and all they represented.
It was when she climbed back into the Alfa Romeo that she finally acknowledged her palms were damp from something besides the late-afternoon heat and humidity. Sabrina sat for a moment, staring through the windshield, the sack of groceries on the seat beside her, and thought about unexpected changes in a person’s life. She got the feeling that Matt’s arrival in Texas to collect his son had not been scheduled very far in advance. Sabrina knew what it was like to have the world turned upside down. From what she knew of Matt, this wasn’t the first time it had happened to him. She wondered at the sharp tug of empathy and understanding that went through her.
But the surprising jolt of sympathy didn’t account for the dampness of her palms or the quickened beat of her pulse as she sat contemplating the evening ahead.
It had been a distinct shock to walk out of the storage room and see him standing in the middle of her shop, amid the tourists and fake Texas chili. She wondered what had ever made her think, even for a moment, that first night in Mexico, that she could collect him for a souvenir vacation fling. Something about seeing him here in the real world put Matt August into a whole new perspective.
She was still sitting behind the wheel of the Alfa, gazing out at the smoldering parking lot, when the two men in blue polyester suits walked up to the car window on her side. One of them knocked.
Startled, Sabrina snapped her head around. The two men were almost twins. Both had dark hair trimmed to a regulation neatness, icy blue eyes, severe expressions, and both wore blue-and-red-striped ties with their crisp white shirts and their neat blue suits. Very reluctantly Sabrina rolled down her window.
“Miss Chase? My name is Griffin. This is Mr. Shadwell. We’d like to talk to you.” The man who called himself Griffin pulled out a wallet and flipped it open with a smooth, practiced motion.
Sabrina’s gaze dropped to the identification card she was being shown. She saw a picture of a man who looked just like the person in front of her and very similar to the one standing next to him. Then she saw the impressive, embossed symbol of an eagle. There was a great deal of formal writing on the card but Sabrina didn’t read any farther than the word Federal. Her infuriated eyes swept back up to Griffin.
“You’re from the IRS, aren’t you? Well, I filed those quarterly reports even though I was not legally obligated to do so, and I can prove it. I’ve about had it with you guys. My accountant says I’m in the clear as far as that 941 form goes, too, and I’m sick and tired of sending you certified letters explaining the situation. This is nothing short of harassment. I happen to be an accountant myself. I know my rights and I know the procedures you’re supposed to follow.”
“Miss Chase,” Griffin began forbiddingly, “this has nothing to do with your income taxes. Shadwell and I want to talk to you about another matter entirely.”
“Then you can damn well send me a letter telling me exactly what you’re going to hound me for this time and I will turn it over to my accountant. What’s the matter with you people? Don’t you realize that it’s the small businesses that make capitalism work in this country? Why harass folks like me who are just trying to make a living? If you want to go after someone, go after some of those monster conglomerates. Stop picking on me. I know why you do it, of course. You figure it’s easier to terrorize a small businessperson such as myself than some big corporation that can afford to fight you with a lot of legal firepower. But I’ve got news for you. You don’t scare me in the least.”
“Miss Chase, we just want to talk to you.” Griffin was beginning to appear uneasy. People walking out of the store carrying their grocery bags were starting to stare.
“Talk to my accountant.” Sabrina switched on the Alfa’s ignition and threw the car into gear. She pushed the accelerator to the floor and tore out of the supermarket parking-lot with a flourish.
The encounter with the government kept her fuming all the way home. It wasn’t until she had sliced the tomatoes, shaped the hamburger patties, and found a bowl for the potato chips that she finally calmed down. The fact that she had allowed the little scene in the parking lot to upset her so much was evidence enough of her heightened tension. The current battle with the IRS had been going on for six months, and she no longer got uptight when they fired their salvos.
Then again, she excused herself, she wasn’t used to dealing with them in the flesh. Normally the encounters took the form of paper missiles launched back and forth. Things must be getting bad if they were sending real, live agents after her. She’d better call her accountant in the morning.
But the tension in her did not fade as six thirty approached, even though she managed to put the scene with the IRS men out of her mind. The real source of her restlessness was Matt August, and she knew it. By the time the rental car pulled into the parking slot in front of her apartment, Sabrina was almost vibrating with the strange excitement.
She answered the knock on the door to find two sets of hazel eyes on her. The first pair moved over her with a controlled hunger. The second pair belonged to what appeared to be a miniature mercenary, and they passed over her with subdued resentment.
“Sabrina, this is my son, Brad.”
“How do you do, Brad?” Were you supposed to shake hands with thirteen-year-old kids wearing combat camouflage? Tentatively Sabrina extended her hand.
The boy ignored her hand and glanced up at his father. “I thought she’d at least be prettier. I mean, geez, you’ve been so freaked about her and we drove all the way from Houston just so you could see her.”
There was an instant of stunned silence. Then Sabrina saw the glitter of cold anger forming in Matt’s eyes and she found herself stepping in before he could say anything.
“What a charming young man you are, Brad. Perhaps I could have you stuffed and stand you next to the bull in my shopwindow. You’d look cute standing there dressed in your GI Joe outfit. Do come in. I’ve got the fire going in the barbecue grill on the back porch. We can all have a drink while we wait for things to heat up.” She smiled very brilliantly up at Matt.
“We’re not going anywhere until Brad gets around to apologizing for his rudeness.”
So much for trying to slide through an awkward situation, Sabrina thought. Now they were all going to have to stand here while father and son fought the contest of wills.
It wasn’t much of a battle. Brad was too vulnerable, too anxious not to alienate his father completely, Sabrina quickly realized. The sullen boy gave in immediately.
“I’m sorry, Miss Chase,” he said formally.
“There’s some soda in the refrigerator,” she told him, waving him through to the kitchen. “Help yourself.” Brad didn’t wait around for a second invitation. He seemed relieved to be out of the room.
Matt sighed as he watched his son depart. “I’m sorry about that, Sabrina. The kid’s having some problems. That’s why Ginny called me up at three in the morning to come get him, I guess.”
“I suspect his main problem is that he’s in the throes of adolescence.” Sabrina paused. “Come on in, Matt. The whiskey’s in the kitchen.”
&
nbsp; “Thanks,” he said in heartfelt tones. “I could use some.”
“Matt?”
He paused, glancing back at her. “What is it, Sabrina?”
“I just wondered. Were you freaked about seeing me?”
“I’ll give you the answer to that when you get around to answering the question I’ve been wanting to ask you.” Then he followed his son into the kitchen.
Teenage boys, Sabrina belatedly remembered, added a definite complication to life. One couldn’t talk about much in front of them because they were old enough to understand everything that was said. One couldn’t talk to them because they tended to respond in a monosyllabic mode. At least this one did. Sabrina wondered if her new nephew would be like Brad at thirteen. It was a depressing thought.
“Okay if I go watch television now?” Brad asked after twenty minutes of stuffing himself with hamburgers at the patio table. He was already on his feet, glancing at his father for permission.
“Don’t you want to take a swim?” Sabrina asked impulsively. It had been such a hot day and the evening was still very warm and humid.
“Nah.” Brad’s attention was on his father.
“Go watch television,” Matt agreed.
The two adults sat across from each other in silence, watching the young boy tromp into the air-conditioned apartment.
“Those boots must be incredibly uncomfortable,” Sabrina finally offered as the sliding glass door closed behind Brad.
“Wearing boots like that in this heat is more than uncomfortable. It creates a definite problem. I’d better stop at a drugstore on the way back to the motel and pick up some foot powder.”
Sabrina’s gaze swung back to him and she smiled. “You sound very knowledgeable on the subject.”
“I’ve worn boots like that in worse heat and humidity than this.” Matt leaned back in his webbed chair, staring at Sabrina. “My God, lady, it’s been a long month. I didn’t even realize just how long until I walked into that shop this afternoon and saw you again.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” she mused gently, searching his expression. It felt marvelously, unexpectedly right to have him sitting here on her patio. “Were you freaked about seeing me?”
“Brad’s vocabulary leaves something to be desired.”
“You were, weren’t you?”
Matt’s mouth twisted in a grin. “I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d get,” he admitted. “I could never quite figure you out down in Mexico.”
“And I could never quite figure you out.”
“I suppose that’s why we kept circling each other looking for openings.” Matt’s eyes were steady. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“You haven’t asked it.”
He hesitated thoughtfully and then said, “I’ve been wondering for the past month if you really would have hated yourself in the morning.”
Sabrina looked down at the dregs of the wine she had been drinking and spoke the truth. “I’ve wondered the same thing myself.”
There was another beat of silence and then Matt leaned forward. His hand covered hers and Sabrina nearly jumped at the remembered sensation caused by his rough-tipped fingers. She looked up and found his eyes shimmering with intensity.
“Reach any conclusions?” he asked.
“No.”
“I’d like to hang around Dallas until you do,” Matt said huskily.
Sabrina stared at him. “I thought you were heading straight back to Mexico with Brad.”
“Brad thinks that’s where we’re going, but I’ve got some doubts. Come on, Sabrina, let’s take a walk.” He was on his feet, reaching down to pull her up beside him before she could protest.
“Why are you thinking twice about taking Brad to Mexico?” she asked, falling into step beside him. His hand stayed linked with hers.
“A lot of reasons. One of which is that I may be taking Brad on a permanent basis and I can’t see raising him in Acapulco. Moving back to the States makes for some complications, though.”
“Such as?”
“As you pointed out down in Mexico, I don’t have a lot of marketable skills. It could take a while to find a decent job. I had something coming up that I had to put on the back burner when I got the call about Brad. It would have been good for several thousand up front. Might make a nice cushion while I hunt around for something more stable.”
Sabrina stopped, staring up at him in astonishment. “Several thousand? Dollars?”
Matt nodded, absently studying the empty, fenced-in terrace around the pool. “Yeah. But I’ve got Brad with me now. I’d have to figure out a way to—” He broke off. “What’s wrong, Sabrina?”
“I was just wondering what sort of little something you had coming up that would provide you with a nest egg of several thousand dollars,” she muttered.
Matt smiled bleakly. “A job for an old acquaintance of mine.”
“A job that does capitalize on the few talents you picked up running covert operations in the military?” she challenged softly.
“Sabrina, honey, how did we get off on this subject? I haven’t seen you in over a month. The last thing I want to do is talk business.”
“You started the conversation!”
“Jesus,” he complained with a groan. “We’re arguing and I haven’t even kissed you hello!” Then he was pulling her fiercely into his arms.
Sabrina sighed against his mouth, the strange tension that had been plaguing her all evening finally seeking release. Her body leaped into vivid awareness as his hands moved down the length of her back to the curve of her hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips for his insistent, hungry kiss. Tonight, after a month of wondering, she still didn’t know how she had left Acapulco without finding out how she would have felt about herself and her rules after making love with Matt August.
“Sabrina, Sabrina, honey, I’ve been wanting you. I’m just realizing how much.” Matt reluctantly freed her mouth and began to nibble urgently at the line of her throat. He held her close in the gathering shadows of the summer evening and let her feel the heavy readiness in him.
Sabrina trembled with the focusing excitement she had been aware of all afternoon. This was what had been making her so restless this past month. Wondering what she could have had with Matt had been eating at her, making her uneasy and unsatisfied. Now she had a second chance. A chance to find out what she had missed.
“Tomorrow night,” Matt’s voice was low and husky, his fingers flexing luxuriously into the curve of her buttock. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
“Yes.”
“There’s a war film Brad wants to see. After dinner we’ll send him to the theater. We’ll have some time alone. A couple of hours to … talk.”
Sabrina heard the hesitation before he filled in the blank with the word talk and she lifted her head from his shoulder, smiling faintly.
“I’d like a chance to talk to you again. I think I missed some of those arguments we always had in Mexico.”
“The problem in Mexico was that we did too damn much talking!” With a muttered exclamation Matt released her and turned to start back toward the apartment. “We’d better get back before Brad wonders if I’ve deserted him. The kid’s been rejected enough lately.”
“You’ve taken on quite a project in Brad.”
“He’s my son,” Matt said simply. “And his mother doesn’t want him any longer.”
“That leaves you.”
“Yes. That leaves me.”
“Priorities,” Sabrina remarked, thinking about it. She wondered where she fit in Matt August’s new set of priorities. And then she wondered where he fit in hers.
“Priorities.” Rafferty Coyne sat at the desk in his hotel room a few miles away and repeated the word for the benefit of the two men who stood in front of him. “Priorities. We must keep them straight. You handled the initial contact very badly this afternoon, Griffin. What on earth did you do to make her think you were
from the IRS?”
Griffin glanced with barely concealed disgust at the briefcase that was on the desk beside Coyne. Somehow that leather case represented its owner. Aloof, relentlessly aristocratic, correct in every detail. The man could be so goddamned prissy at times. It was impossible to imagine dirt ever getting under those carefully manicured nails, much less blood. Coyne was the planner, the detail expert, the organizer. He left the fieldwork to others, which meant he left the dirt and the blood to others.
“I’ve told you, I don’t know how she got that idea. She’s probably been in a hassle with them and it’s been on her mind. When she saw my ID she just jumped to conclusions.”
“She took off out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell before we could give her the real cover story,” Shadwell explained with weary patience. He didn’t care for Coyne any more than Griffin did, but that was not unusual. Shadwell didn’t know anyone who actually liked Rafferty Coyne.
Coyne looked at Shadwell, his eyes devoid of any emotion. “I simply don’t see how you could have lost the opportunity to talk to her.”
Griffin stirred with suppressed irritation, stalking over to the window to glower out at the far-flung lights of Dallas. “You’re the one who said that small-business, Chamber-of-Commerce, middle-class types like her just loved to talk to folks from the government.”
“Normally they do,” Coyne said smoothly. “They’re usually very cooperative with anyone who flashes a U.S. government ID. Comes from years of seeing tales of the FBI on television, I expect.”
“Miss Chase didn’t exactly appear overly respectful,” Griffin said. He turned back to face Coyne.
“What now? Do you want us to try again?”
Coyne shook his head, considering the matter. “Not just yet. Let her assume she had a small brush with the IRS. It may be just as well now that we know the child is involved. The boy may be more important in the long run.”
“What if she checks and finds out the IRS didn’t send anyone out to talk to her?” Shadwell ventured.
Coyne favored him with a condescending glance. “Everyone is accustomed to the notion of being unable to deal in a logical, straightforward manner with the IRS. If Miss Chase phones and finds out they know nothing of any of their agents being sent out to see her, she’ll simply assume that, as usual, the tax people are entangled in their own bureaucracy. One hand doesn’t know what the other is doing. She’ll be disgusted but she’ll think it sounds normal.”
