Dangerous Temptation

by Anne Mather

  Jake was juggling with his keys when the door opened, and his father stepped into his line of vision. The old man was looking older, Jake thought, feeling a twinge of conscience. He hoped he wasn't responsible for the added lines of worry about his eyes.

  Fletch had evidently been waiting for him, and Jake belatedly hoped he wasn't aware of how long he'd been sitting outside in the Blazer. He couldn't be, he consoled himself. The windows of the apartment overlooked the sound, not the parking lot. He must have rung the office again and discovered Jake was on his way. He'd probably been listening for his footsteps in the hall.

  At least he looked cheerful, Jake mused, summoning a rueful grin as he eased past him into the apartment. "I'm sorry if Loretta chewed your balls off," he apologised, by way of a greeting. "But you know what she's like when she's got a lotto—"

  He broke off abruptly. Fletch hadn't said anything, but across the split-level living room, a slim figure had risen from an armchair. A feminine figure, tall, with toffee-fair hair, and dark-lashed eyes, who was gazing at him almost tremulously.

  Christ Almighty, he thought unsteadily, it was Caitlin!

  Oh, God, what was she doing here?

  27

  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!

  Caitlin's heart skipped at least half a dozen beats, but it was pounding so fast, she never even noticed it. It wasn't a hot day, but she was sweating. She could feel little rivulets of perspiration sliding down the hollow of her back.

  She took a steadying breath. He was here, she told herself. She had to control herself. This was what she had been waiting for, and she didn't want to ruin everything now. She had to stop staring at him like a mesmerised rabbit. No matter how specious it seemed, she had to give a reason why she'd come.

  The trouble was, she was so thrilled to see him again, she couldn't think straight. For weeks—months—she had thought of nothing else. And he was exactly as she remembered: so dark, and lean, and attractive. How she had ever mistaken him for Nathan, she didn't know.

  Except that she hadn't known Nathan had a brother—a twin brother, moreover, who'd believed her when she said she was his wife. They'd both been caught in a trap of Nathan's making, and it was only good luck that they'd both come out alive.

  "Hi," she got out now, awkwardly, and Mr Connor-Fletch, as he had insisted she call him—gave his son an impatient shove.

  "You've got a visitor, Jake," he exclaimed. "Ain't you gonna say you're glad to see her? The way I hear it, the lady's come a helluva long way to see you."

  Jake moved then, dropping his jacket and the armful of files he was carrying onto a chair in the entry, and approached the shallow steps that led down into the living room. "Of course," he said, though his voice was taut and wary. "This is an unexpected pleasure, Caitlin. You should have let us know you were coming."

  Caitlin?

  She moistened her dry lips. Was that an indication that he wanted to keep their association on a formal footing? And why had he said she should have let him know she was coming, when it seemed obvious he didn't want her here?

  To warn her not to come, perhaps? she mused, trying not to let his aloofness upset her. After all, if he'd wanted to see her, he'd had only to get on a plane. And she had to remember he hadn't wanted to speak to her or Marshall after the funeral. He hadn't cared about her then, so why would she think he'd care about her now?

  "I think I'll take myself off home," declared Fletch with remarkable discretion, but Jake turned back to look at him, and Caitlin was fairly sure there was anger in his eyes.

  "No…" he began. Then, "you don't have to go, Fletch. Whatever—Mrs Wolfe—has to say won't take long, I'm sure. We can send out for a pizza later on."

  "Nah." Fletch hooked his jacket off the peg by the door and offered Caitlin a wicked grin. "You don't want an old man like me homing in on your conversation. Now, you be good, boy, and I'll see you in the morning."

  Caitlin saw the way Jake's jaw tightened as his father let himself out of the door, but short of collaring the old man and setting him down, there was nothing more he could do. Consequently, he turned back to her without his previous courtesy, coming slowly down the steps and facing her across the oriental rug.

  Caitlin's throat constricted. Oh, Lord, she thought, why had she ever had the notion of coming here? Just because of what they'd once shared, she was risking her own self-respect and her reputation. If Jake turned her away, it was going to be so much worse.

  "Did Fletch ask if you wanted a drink?" Jake inquired now. He had himself in control again, and his question was the usual one offered to any guest.

  "I didn't want anything," she responded obliquely, without really answering him. She licked her lips. "I expect you're surprised to see me." She hesitated. "How are you?"

  Jake's mouth compressed, and he started forward, but although she found herself closing her eyes in anxious anticipation, he merely passed her by on his way to the kitchen. He reached the fridge, and through the open doorway, she saw him take a bottle of beer from the cooler. Then he flipped the cap and drank deeply from the bottle.

  Watching him, her stomach felt wobbly. With his head tipped back, and the muscles of his throat moving rhythmically as he swallowed, he presented a fascinating picture. Yet the knowledge that he could ignore her presence so completely was daunting. She knew she could never be so indifferent to him.

  He finished the beer, saw her watching him, and deposited the empty bottle in the waste bin. Then, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he came towards her again, making her limbs feel so weak, she found herself groping for the chair behind her.

  She sank down as Jake paused in the kitchen doorway, propping his shoulder indolently against the jamb. He looked so cool, she thought, regarding her with that narrow gaze that was blank and guarded. She had no idea what he was thinking. She wished she did.

  "So," he said, and she was relieved to hear that she wasn't expected to carry the whole conversation. "Perhaps you'd better tell me why you've come. I mean, it's not that I'm not pleased to see you, but I don't think it's wise, your being here. And I'm sure your father wouldn't approve of it, if he knew."

  "He knows," said Caitlin swiftly. "You don't imagine I could leave the country without telling him, do you? And—" she hesitated "—and as far as the advisability of my being here is concerned, well—I suppose that rather depends on you."

  "On me?"

  Jake pointed towards himself with a disbelieving finger, and Caitlin nodded before she lost her nerve. "Yes. If—if you don't want me here, I'll leave. You've only to say so. I don't want to interfere in your life again, without your permission."

  Jake's mouth compressed. "I thought I interfered in your life," he said after a moment. "You could hardly be blamed for the plane crashing, or—or anything else Nathan had intended to do. It was a crazy plan, and only a fool would have expected it to work. You were his wife. That doesn't make you his keeper."

  "All the same—"

  "All the same—nothing." Jake's features hardened. "It's all over now, and if this is some belated attempt to explain your part in the proceedings, forget it. As far as I'm concerned, it's better left unsaid."

  Caitlin quivered. This wasn't going at all the way she had hoped, and it was difficult to see how she could broach what she wanted to say without arousing the wrong response. Perhaps she ought to give him the excuse she'd trumped up to bring her here. Maybe if they talked about something else, she'd get a better understanding of how he really felt.

  "As a matter of fact," she began, "I didn't—just—come to see you about—about what happened. Your father's solicitor—that is, your solicitor—wrote and told me Nathan was a half legatee in his father's will." She paused to gather her thoughts, and then continued, "He told me you'd given my name as Nathan's next of kin. He also told me where you lived. Until then I didn't know."

  Jake's brows descended. "You didn't know?"

  It was as if it had never occurred to him before, and she wondered if she
was only imagining the effect it had had on him.

  "No," she conceded now. "You didn't tell me." She stifled a half-hysterical laugh. "How could you? You thought you lived in Prescott."

  Jake stared at her. "But that morning—the morning of the fire—you knew I'd recovered my memory?"

  "Oh, yes. Lisa Abbott told me that. But she didn't tell me where you lived. I doubt if she even knows."

  Jake shook his head. "Christ, and I thought—" He broke off abruptly and raked long fingers through his hair. "So, you don't know what happened? After the funeral, I mean…" He took a breath. "I never thought."

  Caitlin pushed herself rather cautiously to her feet. "What don't I know?" she asked carefully. "I know about Nathan. I know what he was doing. Marshall went to see Lisa when we got back. I don't know what he said, but he managed to get the truth out of her somehow. He probably threatened to report her to the authorities if she didn't come clean. In any event, she was pretty cut up to hear that Nathan was dead, and all Daddy really cared about was finding out where the money had gone." She paused. "Oh, yes, and I know about the way Nathan was cheating the company when Daddy had his heart attack." She frowned. "So you see, I'm not totally naive."

  Jake's fingers had come to rest at the back of his neck, but although he was still looking at her, she had the feeling he wasn't really listening to her. "You didn't know," he said again, and she almost stopped breathing when he dropped his hand and let his knuckles caress her cheek. "Oh, God, Kate, is that the only reason you came to see me? Because you and I are joint legatees of my father's will?"

  Caitlin's breath whistled in her throat. "What…" she whispered, and then, more positively, "What else could there be?"

  "Indeed," he conceded softly, but his hand had slid behind her head, and he was slowly but surely pulling her forward. "What else?" he breathed against her lips, before he found her mouth.

  The flat, cool and shadowy, was heated by the hungry passion of his kiss. His lips devoured hers, eating urgently at the nourishment that had been long denied him. His tongue delved deeply into her mouth before tangling with the eager provocation of hers. His bands slid into her hair and turned her face up more fully to his urgent assault.

  Caitlin's senses swam. There was something unashamedly carnal in his knowledge of her that she was either too weak or too desperate to restrain. She didn't care how long it lasted, so long as he made love to her. She'd been aching for the touch of him ever since he walked in the door.

  But, evidently, Jake was not as swept away by his emotions as she had been by hers. Although briefly his hands had slid down her back to cup her rounded buttocks, and she'd felt the unmistakeable brush of his arousal, he was still in control. He bit her tongue and her lower lip, and then put her away from him, raking the back of his neck with a hand that revealed how fragile that control was.

  "We have to talk," he said tautly, forcing himself to walk towards the darkening windows. "There are things you don't know about me, and I have to tell you what happened to Fletch."

  "Fletch?"

  The word came out faint and disbelieving. Caitlin couldn't believe he'd broken off making love to her because of that old man. Didn't he realise how fragile she was—how brittle? She felt as if she was in danger of falling apart.

  "Yes, Fletch," said Jake now, keeping his back to her. His shoulders were broad, and in the pale light, she could see the shadow of sweat that outlined his spine. It was reassuring to know that he was not indifferent to his feelings. Though she desperately wanted to feel his arms around her again.

  "What about Fletch?" she asked tremulously, sure that whatever he wanted to tell her, it could have waited until after they'd been to bed. It was frightening to think how much power this man had over her senses; she, who had always considered herself indifferent to sex in the past.

  "Nathan nearly killed him," said Jake flatly, and Caitlin caught her breath. "He thought he had killed him, actually, except that the old devil is stronger than he thought."

  "Oh, God!" Caitlin felt sick. "But when did Nathan see Fletch?"

  "He'd come down here to get away from Jacob, I believe, and Fletch was in the apartment when he arrived. He accused Nathan of God knows what, and they had a fight."

  "Fletch—and Nathan?" said Caitlin faintly, and Jake half turned, supporting himself against the frame, his expression sombre with reminiscence.

  "Yeah." He grimaced. "But don't think it was a wholly unequal contest. Fletch used to be quite a hell-raiser in his time." His lips twisted. "I should know. He's laid his belt across my back more times than I care to remember."

  Caitlin's lips parted. "You remembered that."

  "It was hard to forget." Jake was rueful. "He never could forget what my mother had done."

  "Your mother—she had an affair with—with Jacob Wolfe, your father?"

  "Sort of." Jake shrugged. "As far as I can make out, it was never intended to go as far as it did. Hell, Nathan and I weren't planned for. She and Fletch couldn't afford the four they already had."

  "Four?"

  "My half sisters," agreed Jake wryly. "The youngest was already half-grown when we were born. That's why she let Jacob take Nathan. That—and the fact that he paid Fletch a hefty sum for the privilege."

  "But Fletch didn't know you weren't—"

  "His own kin? Hell, no. Not at first. He'd have kicked us both out if he had. Yet—" he was thoughtful "—when he did find out, and Alice—that's my mother—threatened to leave him if he threw me out, he let me stay. I think secretly he liked having a son, even if he pretended to hate my guts."

  "But he doesn't hate you now."

  "No." Jake shook his head. "I guess you could say Fletch and I have come to an understanding. He knows I love the old bastard, and I guess the feeling's reciprocated."

  "I think so." Caitlin waited a beat. "It doesn't make any difference, you know." She took a breath. "Oh, Jake—why didn't you come to England? You must know I—"

  "Wait." Jake straightened away from the window and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. "You don't know everything yet. How and why Nathan and I came to live such separate lives isn't important. It may account for some of the differences in our characters, but that's all." He sighed. "No, what I have to tell you concerns me, and only me." He breathed deeply. "I guess no one's told you that I was once an addict myself."

  Caitlin was stunned and looked it. "A drug addict?"

  "Is there any other kind?"

  Caitlin swallowed. "I don't know." She felt a little dizzy now. "Did—did Nathan know?"

  "Oh, sure." Jake was sardonic. "My brother lost no opportunity to remind me of it."

  Caitlin blinked. "I can't believe it."

  "It disgusts you, doesn't it?" Jake was bitter. "Well, don't worry, it disgusts me, too."

  "But—how…?" She moistened her lips. "If you told me, I might understand."

  Jake stared at her. "Run that by me again."

  "I just want to understand," said Caitlin unevenly. "Was it—Fletch? Was it the knowledge that Nathan—that your brother—had a better life?"

  "Christ, no!" Jake was vehement. "I didn't get the habit here." He groaned. "Of course, that's something else you don't know about me. I was in Vietnam."

  Caitlin's eyes widened. "But you were too young."

  "Young, but not too young," Jake assured her flatly. "Except maybe for the brutality. Hell, yes, I found that pretty hard to take."

  Caitlin moved forward. "Oh, Jake! Why didn't you tell me that before? I know—I know lots of young men grew old during the war in Southeast Asia. No one—no one could blame you for that."

  "Couldn't they?" Jake was still not convinced she meant it. "You've got no idea of the state I was in when I got home. If it hadn't been for my mother and Fletch, I might still have been in the loony bin."

  "Don't sell yourself short," said Caitlin huskily, risking laying a hand on his arm. "You're not weak. You're strong. And I can help you."

  "Help me?" A choking l
augh escaped his throat. "Sweet Jesus, you think I'm still a user, don't you?" And at her colouring cheeks, "Kate, I kicked the habit years ago! Since then, I've been back to school and got my degree, and these days I make a living defending some of the poor punks who thought they could screw the system, too."

  "You do?"

  Caitlin was stunned, and Jake nodded. "I'm afraid so."

  She lifted her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I just thought—"

  "I know what you thought, and I love you for it," he said softly, causing a flutter of awareness to spiral down into her stomach. "And if I'd known how you'd feel, I might not have wasted all these months going out of my head wanting you."

  "You—want—me?" Caitlin trembled, and as if sensing that sensitive quiver through the sleeve of his shirt, he covered her hand with his.

  "Of course I want you," he told her roughly. "But how do you think it made me feel, falling in love with my brother's wife?"

  "The same way I felt falling in love with my husband's brother, I suppose," said Caitlin unsteadily.

  "You thought I was Nathan," he reminded her.

  "I prayed you were," she admitted, licking her lips. "But my prayers have never been answered before."

  "Oh, baby!"

  Unable to prevent the inevitable any longer, Jake used his hand to draw her towards him, and then, resting his forearms on her shoulders, he covered her mouth with his.

  Passion flared anew, more urgent this time, and they both knew that any further explanations would have to wait until they'd satisfied the hunger they were both feeling.

  "Come on," Jake said thickly, when he could drag his lips away from hers, "I'll show you my bedroom. My real bedroom this time. Not just a poor imitation."

  The room was almost dark, and Jake turned on the pair of lamps at either side of the king-sized divan. They illuminated a room that bore no resemblance to the room she had said was his at the flat in Wellsley Square, and although her surroundings were of little importance at this moment, she felt a sense of familiarity in the cream and green walls, and the rusty brown patterns on the quilt. A sense of homecoming, too, in the possessive light in Jake's eyes, and although she'd never done it in front of a man before, she couldn't wait to get her clothes off.