Trading Secrets Read Online Free PDF

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