Dangerous Temptation Page 25

  "Why would you hate Marshall?" she demanded now, rekindling her impatience. "Why do you think, Nathan? Because he's doing the job you once considered yours."

  "I see." He nodded his head in understanding, as if another piece of the jigsaw had fallen into place. "I was your father's deputy." He paused. "What was Marshall doing then?"

  "You tell me." Caitlin sighed. "He didn't come to work for Daddy until about two years ago. Before that—well, I suppose you were acting as his deputy. But Daddy's never given up running the company, even though he knows he should."

  "Because of his heart attack?"

  "And his age," said Caitlin quickly. "He is almost sixty, you know. Lots of men have retired before then."

  "So—why was N—I—demoted?" he asked. "What did I do to lose your father's confidence? Was I negligent, or what?"

  Caitlin shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, and seeing his frustration, she felt a reluctant sense of compassion. Despite all her efforts, he'd got under her skin again.

  She sighed. The exhilaration she had felt earlier had all dispersed now, and she just felt tired. Too tired to broach the reasons why he had been visiting the travel agency, she realised wearily. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know.

  She was about to leave the room when he stopped her. Almost involuntarily, it seemed, he had taken up a position beside the rosewood bureau that supported the row of decanters he liked to keep on show. He used to say they were for his friends, but so far as she knew, he had never invited anyone back to the flat—until tonight. Unless, her lips tightened, he had brought Lisa Abbott here, while she was safely out of the way.

  "We need to talk," he said, indicating that he was offering her a drink, but Caitlin shook her head.

  "I thought we had been talking," she said, trying not to feel apprehensive. Was he about to explain his reasons for not sleeping with her since they got back?

  "We've been—fencing," he said quietly, pouring himself a small measure of Scotch and adding a squirt of soda. "I think I ought to tell you, I'm going back to the States."

  Caitlin's lips parted. "You're going to America?" she said, hardly able to believe it. No need to ask what he had been doing in the travel agent's now. He'd been making arrangements to leave.

  "Yes." He allowed a mouthful of the malt whisky to slide down his throat. "I think it's a good idea. Don't you?"

  "But you don't know anyone there. How will you get about?" Caitlin was trying not to panic. "I'll come with you."

  "No."

  "What do you mean, no?" She moistened her lips. "You can't stop me. I—I'm your wife."

  "We both know that's not true," he told her flatly, and her eyes widened disbelievingly. "I mean," he said, not without some discomfort, "that I can stop you. I don't want you to come with me, Kate. I—need to do this on my own."

  "It's Marshall, isn't it?" she exclaimed recklessly. "He's the one who's put this crazy idea into your head. All that talk about children—and whether it matters who brings them up. You imagine if you go to Prescott, you're going to have a sudden revelation."

  There was a hint of colour in his cheeks now, and she wondered what she had said to embarrass him. She was the one who was embarrassed; she was the one who wanted desperately to beg him to change his mind. Or if not, to let her accompany him. She was afraid that if she let him go, she'd never see him again.

  "I'd made my decision before I went to the office," he said gently. "I'm not denying I was interested in what Marshall had to say, but I've known what I have to do ever since—well, ever since last weekend."

  Caitlin's lips twitched. "Since you made love to me, I suppose," she said bitterly. "Since you realised I wasn't what you needed. That whatever you said, I wasn't sexy enough for your tastes!"

  "Don't be a fool!"

  He was angry now, and if she hadn't known better, she might have believed he meant it. As it was, she could only think he was an incredible actor. Either that, or he really didn't remember how it had been before.

  In any case, Caitlin was too distrait to care what he might be thinking. She just knew all her hopes for the future were gradually turning to dust. Once again, she'd let him get too close, and this time he'd destroyed her. She hadn't cared before; she did care now.

  And, because she wasn't thinking very clearly herself, her next words were even more of a betrayal. "I suppose you'd rather take the Abbott woman with you," she taunted, forgetting for a moment that Nathan didn't know who the other woman was. "Lisa Abbott," she prompted, feeling sick as she realised what she was doing. "The woman who rang you when you were at Fairings? Surely you remember that."

  Nathan blinked. "Lisa Abbott," he said faintly. "But how—I mean—" He broke off and rephrased what he had been about to say. "So that's who it was."

  Caitlin stared at him suspiciously. "You remember her, don't you?" she said accusingly. "When I mentioned her name, you remembered who she was."

  "No—"

  "Oh, don't bother to lie. I simply don't believe you." She sniffed. "Just tell me. Do you remember everything?"

  "No." He spoke frustratedly at first, and then seemed to make a concerted effort to calm himself. "Look, Kate," he said evenly, "it's not easy for me to explain. Can't you accept—at least for the present—that I'm still probing in the dark? I promise I'll tell you everything as soon as I know what that is."

  Caitlin held up her head. "I'm tired," she said flatly, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer. "It's been a long day. I think I'll go to bed."

  "Kate—"

  "No. I don't want to hear that you're innocent," she retorted painfully. "I expected nothing from you—I wanted nothing from you—before the accident, and I'm damned if I want anything now. Just get out of my life, Nathan. Do you hear me? I never want to see you again!"

  He uttered a harsh cry. "That's not true."

  "It is true," she told him unsteadily. "You wanted to know what manner of man you were, what kind of marriage we had. Well, I'll tell you. It was a marriage made in hell, do you hear that? And you were its maker. I swore then that I'd never let you near me again, and I wouldn't have, if you hadn't convinced me that you'd changed, that you didn't remember what a brute you'd been, that I couldn't judge a man who couldn't even remember his own name. But I was wrong, wasn't I? I don't know what you hoped to gain by it, whether you thought you could sustain the charade long enough to get back into my father's good books, or persuade me that your affair with Lisa Abbott was over. I can see it would be attractive to you—the thought of making a brand-new start. My God, you even—what's that very appropriate word you use in your country? Suckered? Yes, that's it, you even—suckered Marshall. He was actually opening up to you, wasn't he? Believing—just like me— that the old you was gone for good."

  "No—"

  "Yes." She wouldn't let him say anything that might interfere with the very fine indictment she was making. She couldn't allow him to interrupt her; to say anything in mitigation of her words. She was too afraid of what she might do if he attempted to defend himself. For all she told herself she despised him, she couldn't forget what might have been.

  "You don't understand," he overrode her harshly, and although she was sure he was still lying to her, there was anguish in his voice. "For pity's sake, Kate, don't say anything you might regret later. I don't like hurting you this way, and if there were any other course open to me…" He sighed. "I'd take it. Believe me, I have no choice."

  "Don't you?"

  The scepticism in her response was unmistakeable, and he closed his eyes against the accusation in her face. He rocked back on his heels, and just for a moment, she allowed herself to look at him, unaware that her heart and soul were in her eyes.

  "God, Kate…"

  He opened his eyes before she could look away again, and although she turned towards the door, he covered the space between them in a couple of strides. With his hand on her shoulder, he spun her round to face him, and his hand grasped her chin as he crushed his mouth to hers.r />
  Caitlin's head swam at the first touch of his lips. His kiss was hard and passionate, his tongue plunging into her mouth with all the knowing skill of an experienced lover. She staggered backwards, her spine coming up against the wall beside the door as he came after her, imprisoning her between the wall and his body, his hands raised at either side of her head.

  His jaw was rough against her cheek. He had shaved that morning, but already the dark stubble of his beard was beginning to show. She'd thought earlier that the slightly dishevelled look only added to his attractiveness, and for all his skin abraded hers as his mouth moved possessively over her face, she wouldn't have had it any other way.

  Her hands came up almost instinctively to cup his face, her breasts rising against his chest and causing him to moan softly, low in his throat. It was so very reminiscent of when he had kissed her in the shower, and she remembered only too well where that had led.

  She moved against him, feeling the instinctive pressure of his body. His hands sought her breasts, squeezing their swollen fullness, his thumbs running sensuously across the hard peaks. The need for him to touch her naked flesh became almost an obsession, and the desire to feel his flesh against hers throbbed hotly between her legs.

  She was beyond thought, beyond reason, eager only to reiterate what had gone before. They were alone in the flat; he could have taken her there on the floor if he'd wanted to. She could feel his erection, thrusting forcefully against her stomach, and she could smell his arousal in the clean scent of his body.

  He wanted her. That thought sang in her head. Whether he had recovered his memory or not, whether he remembered Lisa Abbott or not, he still wanted her. He might try and keep her away from him; he might try to deny it. But his body couldn't hide its reaction to her nearness. His breathing was harsh and laboured, and there was a greedy possession in his touch. He wanted her; he wanted to feel her heat around him. He was losing control, and she revelled in his submission.

  With a trembling hand, she released the buttons on her shirt. Then, with a feeling of abandonment, she took one of his hands and drew it down to the hem of her skirt. And when he didn't resist, she took it between her legs.

  "Christ!"

  His response was not what she had expected. Whereas before, his feelings had sapped his will, this time he found the strength to break away. With a contorted expression that only afterwards she identified as self-disgust, he pulled away from her. And before she could do anything to change his mind, he wrenched open the door and left the room.

  22

  Jake decided to drive to Prescott.

  It would have been easier to take a plane—less tiring, certainly—but he felt as if he needed a little time by himself to try and come to terms with what was going on. He knew now that for the past three weeks he'd been living his life as Nathan. But that was over now. He had remembered who he really was.

  He still got a headache when he taxed his brain too heavily. But he was determined to put the events, as he knew them, into order before he got to his father's house. He didn't know if Jacob Wolfe had been a party to Nathan's plan, but he doubted it. Whatever private opinion he might hold of the man who had sired him, he had always believed he was honest, if nothing else.

  The fact that Nathan had come looking for him should have warned him to be on his guard. In all the years they had known of one another's existence, Nathan had never shown any real friendship before. Jake had always known their paths would never have crossed at all if he hadn't gone looking for his twin.

  Still, the story Nathan had told him in Casey's bar had evidently held some elements of truth. Nathan was weak; Jake had always known that. And although he hadn't even known Caitlin then, her vulnerability—and Jacob's—had compelled him to try and do something to help them.

  Not that he really had anything to thank Jacob Wolfe for, he mused wryly. Although Jacob had made an effort to meet Jake after he got back from Vietnam, they had never become close. Jacob's assertion that he would have adopted both boys if he could didn't alter the fact that he had abandoned their mother. He had never had any intention of divorcing his wife and marrying Alice, even if she had been prepared to leave Fletch.

  Nevertheless, that association was important now. There was no one else Jake could turn to for advice. He only hoped Jacob knew where Nathan was, and that there was some way they could resolve the situation. He couldn't bear to think he'd never see Caitlin again.

  A groan welled inside him.

  Dear God, this wasn't just a difficult situation, he thought grimly, remembering Caitlin's face when he'd told her he was returning to the States. As far as he was concerned, it was a matter of life or death. He couldn't leave the woman he had come to love to his brother. After what she had accused him of, believing he was Nathan, he felt almost murderous himself.

  He remembered that after they'd left the bar, Nathan had transferred the suitcase from the trunk of the rental car to the trunk of the Blazer in the parking lot. The only hitch had been Nathan's plan to exchange passports. That had entailed driving out to Pine Bay, where Jake had unwillingly collected his own passport from the condo. He supposed he hadn't taken into account the fact that Nathan would need his passport. Nevertheless, he didn't want to alert his brother to the fact that he was having any trouble believing his story, so they had switched passports as planned, and Nathan had left.

  But from the start, he'd had his suspicions. Nathan was scared of Walker, he believed that, but if the man was re-ally as powerful as his brother would have him believe, would he risk his reputation by employing someone like his brother? And why would Nathan come to him for help when he'd always despised him? It didn't ring true. Nathan wouldn't ask for his help. He'd do nothing to give Jake that kind of advantage over him. No, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that he was being used.

  But for what? As what?

  He'd opened the suitcase Nathan had given him as soon as he'd gotten home from work that evening. It was only then that he'd realised that the suitcase was locked, and Nathan had forgotten—deliberately or otherwise—to give him the code. However, after a few false starts, he'd managed to open it. Their birth date had proved to be decisive, and he thought how typical it was of Nathan to use something so obvious as that.

  However, when he'd lifted the lid of the case, that had been forgotten. The suitcase had appeared to hold nothing but clothes. He found no hidden cavities, no false base, nothing that Jake could see out of the ordinary. Just a couple of pairs of shoes, some shaving gear, and two paperback novels, stuffed carelessly down the side.

  That was when he'd decided that Nathan might not have been lying after all. It seemed infinitely more credible that Walker might have arranged for him to carry an empty suitcase back from New York. A kind of dress rehearsal, perhaps—a dry run, to assess Nathan's willingness to walk through Customs carrying what he believed to be his passport to imprisonment if he was caught.

  But that hadn't rung true, either: Nathan must have chosen the code that had locked the suitcase. It was simply not credible that someone else might have chosen those numbers instead of him. So what the hell was the point? Why was he being implicated? Jake had decided to use Nathan's passport after all, and go to London and find out for himself.

  He wondered now if he hadn't hoped that he might see Caitlin while he was in England. A remote chance, perhaps, but she might have been able to give him something about what Nathan was up to. For all his brother had said he wanted to keep the affair a secret from his wife, Jake had been in no mood to accommodate him, and he'd decided he didn't owe Nathan any favours after the way he had been duped.

  In the event, the accident had prevented any confrontation. Which he knew now Nathan would have wanted to avoid. No wonder he'd felt such a sense of alienation with both the name he'd been given and his background. He'd been trying to fit into Nathan's shoes, and they hadn't been just physically too tight.

  He grimaced. It had taken a momentous event to shoc
k him out of his inertia, and in the aftermath of discovering he had just made love to his brother's wife, he'd found it difficult to accept what had happened. Not just because he'd somehow gotten away with it, but for the first time since the accident, he hadn't wanted to remember who he was.

  But after that amazing revelation, he had had no choice but to try and do something positive. During the following days, he'd been stunned by the amount of information his brain had managed to absorb. There'd been times when he'd been afraid his head might explode with the conflicting messages he was receiving. He'd still been living as Nathan, but all his reactions were Jake's.

  Which was why he should have kept away from Caitlin. He knew now the kind of relationship she'd had with his brother, and he felt as if he'd taken advantage of her innocence. But what they had shared was as new to him as it was to her. Totally new, he reflected painfully, aware of the irony. After all the women he had known, he had had to go and fall in love with his brother's wife.

  He knew he had hurt her by not allowing her to accompany him to Prescott. But, dear God! how could he allow her to go on believing he was her husband? Until he had spoken to Nathan and discovered where he was and what he was doing, he and Caitlin couldn't have a life together. Goddammit, he didn't even know if it was him she cared about or the man she'd married.

  The afternoon he'd spent at Webster Development had been useful. During his conversations with Marshall O'Brien, he'd learned a lot of what Nathan had been covering up. Marshall had tried to be objective, but Jake had sensed there was more to the questions he and Matthew Webster had asked him at Fairings that weekend than they were saying. They were obviously onto something, but they weren't inclined to tell him what it was.

  Jake had checked Nathan's passport, too, and discovered he had visited South America in April. He doubted it was a legitimate visit. After what he'd learned, he couldn't believe Matthew Webster would give his son-in-law any more responsibility than he absolutely had to. He'd guessed even then that it had to have had something to do with the contract Matthew and Marshall had spoken about, and judging from the way they'd grilled him, it was more than just a cause of concern to them. The irony was, they still thought he was Nathan. Did they imagine he'd developed a conscience at last?