At the time, he'd been glad Marshall was there to look after her. It had seemed important for him not to show any emotion, and he couldn't have coped with her grief and kept his own in check. In any case, from the moment the shed exploded, he'd known that any chance they might have had was over. That day would be printed indelibly on her mind.

He remembered Marshall had tried to talk to him after the services were over, but by then he'd been so inured in the role he'd chosen to play, there'd been no way to answer him rationally. He knew Marshall had guessed about the drugs, but he had had no intention of betraying his brother's intentions to him. Instead, he had let Nathan's dirty secret die with him. It was the only way he knew to protect his father's memory.

Marshall and Caitlin had returned to England the following day, and Jake had assured himself he felt better once they were gone. There was nothing he could do to change things; no way of defending his involvement. He regretted the past, but he regretted what he'd done to Caitlin most of all.

It was when he'd had a visit from the police that he'd finally gone to pieces.

Unbeknown to him, the authorities in Pine Bay had been trying to locate him for days. Loretta had been the first to receive the news that Fletch had been found unconscious in his son's apartment, and to begin with, despite her protests, Jake had been suspected of being involved. She'd insisted he'd been away, but the janitor was positive he had let Jake into his apartment just hours before the old man's body had been found. And until Fletch regained consciousness and was able to exonerate his son, a warrant had been issued for his arrest.

Of course, Jake had known none of this to begin with. He had still been in Prescott, trying to ideal with all the details of his father's will. Jacob had left half of what he owned to each of his sons, and although Nathan's death had complicated matters, Jake was determined that Caitlin should get her husband's share.

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?

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."