Dangerous Temptation (46 page)

For his part, he'd wanted nothing that was Jacob's. With the lawyer's help, he had prepared a document donating his small legacy to the town. It was up to the mayor and the sheriff to decide what they might do with it. Jake never wanted to see Prescott again.

Which was why he got such a shock when the police came to see him. It appeared Fletch had been able to tell the authorities that the father of the man they now wanted to question lived in Prescott, and when they'd contacted the police there, they'd been informed that both Nathan Wolfe and his father were dead.

But hearing that Fletch had been attacked—almost killed, in fact—had been the last straw as far as Jake was concerned. To his everlasting shame, he'd gone completely to pieces, and his much-vaunted self-control had simply collapsed.

He'd spent the next six weeks in various hospitals. As soon as possible, he'd been transferred to the facility in Pine Bay, to enable Fletch to come and visit with him. At that time, his old adversary had been a tower of strength—the only sane thing in a world gone mad.

They told him he'd experienced a brief return of the stress-related illness he'd suffered when he came back from Vietnam. Whatever it was, he remembered he'd felt pretty devastated. He'd also discovered he was no more immune to tragedy than anyone else.

Fletch had spent several weeks with him after Jake had got home from the hospital. Jake had become accustomed to finding beer bottles behind the couch and the constant scent of tobacco in the air. But what the hell, he thought, Fletch was the only person who cared a damn about him. If he felt able to make himself at home in the apartment, that had to be a plus.

There'd been no word from Caitlin, of course, but he hadn't expected any. She probably considered she was better off out of it. The short time they had had together was best forgotten. She certainly could have no fond memories of her husband or his family.

He'd returned to work after Christmas, and since then, he'd had to contend with Fletch calling him day and night. He knew the old man was still concerned about him; that, although he was supposed to have returned to his own home in Blackwater Fork, he still spent a couple of nights a week at the apartment because he was worried about him. Jake appreciated the sentiment, but he knew he had to make a life for himself, and perhaps this partnership with Dane Meredith was the first step.

Or was it?

Perhaps he ought to get right away from Pine Bay, North Carolina. With his qualifications, he knew he could find another job in another town. He could even move right across the country, to California or Oregon. The climate would be better. He'd heard they didn't have such a high level of humidity in L.A.

But he knew he wouldn't do it; not now, not while Fletch still needed him. He couldn't trust his four half-sisters to look after their father. They had always been more interested in their own lives and their own families than in taking care of an old man who they considered deserved everything he'd gotten.

Jake grimaced. Today had been a bad day, he reflected wearily. He was letting the problems he had faced in the courtroom accompany him home. Just because Winston Miller had gone to prison, he was feeling dejected. Dammit, the kid had been found with several bottles of amphetamines in his sport bag.

It hadn't helped to go back to the office and have Loretta bending his ear because Fletch had interrupted her schedule. The old man had been calling all afternoon, she said, and she'd eventually told him in no uncertain terms, if Jake knew his secretary, to get off her back. It wasn't that Jake didn't want to see the old devil, but tonight he would have appreciated a little privacy. When he was feeling as low as he was feeling at present, he just knew he wouldn't be good company.

Still…

Fletch was not to know that, and pushing open the car door, Jake gathered his jacket and an armful of files from the back seat. Then slamming the door again, he started towards the building.

To his relief, the janitor wasn't about as he let himself into the foyer. Shifting the weight of the files from one arm to the other, he walked purposefully down the corridor towards his apartment, mentally girding his wits for the evening ahead.

He had no desire to upset the old man, and if Fletch had even suspected he was still suffering the aftermath of what had happened, he would worry all the more. Fletch didn't know Caitlin; he'd never met her, and Jake could hardly admit he was in love with his brother's widow. Anything to do with the Wolfes was anathema to Fletch; he'd consigned them both, father and son, to the devil.

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?

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."