Dangerous Temptation

“Whatever it was, I said it badly,” declared Jacob tersely, realising he was in danger of alienating her altogether. “I just thought we might come to some agreement. It’s in everyone’s interest to do the best we can.”

Alice regarded him suspiciously. “So what do you want?”

Jacob hesitated only briefly. “I think you know.”

Alice gasped. “You’re mad!”

“They’re my sons, Alice.” Jacob looked at her unblinkingly. “You know it, and I know it. Why shouldn’t I want to help them?”

“Help them?” Alice almost choked on the words. “Like you helped me, you mean?” Her face contorted. “Get out of here, Jacob, before I call a nurse and have you thrown out!”

Jacob didn’t move. “Go ahead,” he said. “Call a nurse. Call the administrator if you want to. But don’t forget, I have some influence around here, too. One word to Abe Henry about that quart of moonshine Fletch keeps in his cab, and he’d be out of a job.”

Alice’s jaw sagged. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t want to,” said Jacob, which wasn’t quite the same thing. “For Christ’s sake, Alice, I care about you. D’you think I want to make life difficult for you with that big ape?”

“Fletch would kill you,” said Alice suddenly. “If he ever found out about you and me, he’d kill you.” Her lips twisted. “Then he’d kill me.”

Jacob sighed. “He’s not going to find out about you and me,” he assured her. “If you show a little sense.”

“And give you one of my babies? What d’you think Fletch is going to think about that?”

“Not—give—me one of the babies,” amended Jacob steadily. “Let me adopt one.” He paused. “Iris—Iris can’t have children. We tried—everything we could, but it was just no good. And—adoption isn’t easy, even for people like us. We’re too old now. We waited too long.” He lifted his shoulders dismissively. “I’d make it worth your while.”

Alice’s mouth curled. “You want to—buy—your own son.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Alice held up her head. “Fletch won’t let you do it,” she said bravely, but she suspected he would. Jacob had fastened onto the one aspect of Fletch’s character she couldn’t change. For years, she’d been telling herself he loved his daughters, and perhaps he did, in his own way. But she’d always known, deep down inside her, that he’d marry them off to the devil himself if he made it sufficiently worth his while. And as for these two…

“I’ll have to ask him, won’t I?” Jacob remarked now, getting up to circle the bed and look down at the twins in their cribs. “My God, they are alike, aren’t they? My mother once told me my brother and I were identical when we were born, too.”

“Then it’s a pity it wasn’t you who died instead of your brother,” exclaimed Alice recklessly. She flinched at the sudden anger in his eyes, but she pressed on regardless. “I wonder, if he’d lived, would he have married Iris for her money?” She gazed at him contemptuously. “At least Fletch married me because he loved me. And whatever else you say about him, I know he doesn’t cheat on his wife!”

She thought he might hit her then. Alice was used to being hit if she voiced her opinion. But she should have known Jacob was far too civilised to do something like that. “I’ll overlook your ignorance,” he said coldly, “because I know you must be tired. But, please, don’t insult my intelligence by pretending the Neanderthal you call a husband has any scruples. I doubt there’s anything I couldn’t buy from him including you. So I suggest you stop fighting me and take the opportunity I’m offering.”

Alice gulped. “Go to hell!”

“I very probably will.” Jacob was philosophic. “But before I do, I want to know there’s someone I can leave to take my place. A son,” he said, looking down at the cribs, a muscle jerking spasmodically in his jaw. “My own son.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “Is that really so much to ask?”

1 (#ueed51abe-79df-500f-bd09-0d9fc09b22d3)

1997

Jake saw the rental car at once. It was the only half-decent vehicle parked outside Casey’s bar at this hour of the afternoon. Which meant Nathan was already inside, waiting for him. Jake grimaced. It must be something serious to bring his brother here. It wasn’t as if they were friends. God Almighty, when he’d first found out he had a twin brother, he’d been desperate to see him. But Nathan wasn’t like that. Jake was reluctant to admit it, but Nathan always thought first about himself.

When he’d got back to his office, after taking a deposition at the courthouse, Loretta had told him Fletch had been trying to get in touch with him—which was nothing new. Since his mother died, and Fletch had lost his job hauling lumber, he was often on the phone to the man he’d raised as his son. Most times he’d had too much to drink and he’d wanted a sympathetic ear for his troubles. Because he drank so much, his own daughters had given up on him long ago.

But this time Fletch was ringing to complain about the fact that Nathan had come to the house on Jackson Street looking for his brother. “He wants to see you, boy,” he wheezed, his gravelly voice revealing the resentment he felt that Jacob Wolfe’s son should have come to his house. “I told him you don’t live here no more. That you’d got yourself a place out at Pine Bay, but he don’t want to come to your office. He says can you meet him in town. The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

Jake could hear Nathan’s voice in the background, but he didn’t bother asking to speak to him then. On the rare occasions that Fletch and Nathan had met, their mutual dislike had always coloured the proceedings. Fletch despised Nathan because of his parentage; Nathan thought Fletch was an ignorant old bastard.

Which was ironic really, Jake reflected now, as he got out of the Blazer and locked the door. If anyone was a bastard around here, it was him or Nathan. Only his brother preferred to forget who his real mother had been.

It was dark in the bar, but as his eyes adjusted to the light, Jake saw Nathan slumped in a booth at the far side of the room. There were already a couple of empty bottles in front of him, and Jake reflected that Nathan and Fletch weren’t as different from each other as they’d both like to think.

Nathan saw him, and getting to his feet, he gestured for Jake to join him. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded with his usual lack of restraint. “I’ve been sitting here for God knows how long. I thought you said you were coming right down.”

“Some of us have work to do,” remarked Jake mildly, sliding into the booth across from the other man. “In any case—” he indicated the empty bottles “—you look as if you’ve been busy. You won’t forget you’re driving a motor vehicle, will you?”

Nathan scowled. “Don’t start shitting me, Jake. I didn’t come here for one of your lectures. Okay, I’ve had a couple of beers, but I’m still sober. Don’t treat me like you treat your old man.”

“Fletch isn’t my old man,” Jake corrected him tautly, his fingers flexing on the table between them. The trouble was, he didn’t feel as if Jacob Wolfe was his father, either. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost out on both counts.

“Well, okay.” Nathan seemed to realise that whatever had brought him here wasn’t going to be helped by starting an argument. “But I honestly don’t know how you put up with him. It’s not as if he ever cared about you. He’d have thrown you out years ago if he could.”

Jake arched a dark brow. It was true enough, he supposed. From the moment Fletch had realized that he wasn’t the boy’s father, Jake’s life hadn’t been worth living. Not that it had been worth that much before, he reflected ruefully. A man who thought little of beating up on his wife thought less than nothing of beating up on his son.

But, from the time he was old enough to wield a yard brush, Jake had done everything he could to defend his mother. He’d had more than his share of grief, and occasionally the teachers from school formed a delegation to protest about the bruises that regularly appeared on his body. Mostly however, they stayed away. It was well known in Blackwater Fork that Fletch Connor had no respect for authority, and only his friendship with Sheriff Andy Peyton had saved him from certain prosecution.

Yet Jake had known from an early age that Fletch was proud of him in his own strange way. He used to say the boy reminded him of himself at that age, and although it didn’t save him, Jake sensed Fletch admired his spirit.

Fletch’s attitude had changed when Jake was eleven years old. He’d gashed his knee playing football, severing the main artery, and neither Fletch nor his mother had been able to give him the blood transfusion he needed.

There’d been one hell of a scene, he remembered. His mother had turned up the next day wearing a black eye, and Jake had been as stunned as Fletch to learn that they were not actual father and son. And then to learn that he had a twin brother…

Jake supposed he’d guessed even then there had to be more to it than they told him. Fletch wasn’t the type to be philanthropic, and money had to have changed hands for his twin to have been adopted by someone else.

It was only later that his mother had explained that the man who had taken his brother was his real father. And by then, he’d had to come to terms with the fact that his relationship with Fletch could never be the same. Indeed, if it had been left to Fletch, he’d never have come back to the house in Jackson Street. But for once, his mother had put her foot down: either her husband accepted the situation as it was, or she’d take her son and go.

“He’s old,” said Jake now, as if that explained everything. “So what is it you want to talk about? The last I heard, things were pretty much going your way. Don’t tell me you’re having marital problems already.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Nathan was evidently trying to be sociable. “This humidity is something,” he added, changing the subject. “I don’t know how you stand it for months on end.”

“I was born here,” replied Jake drily. “And so were you, little brother. You’ve gotten too used to being pampered. Juggling figures instead of people has made you soft.”

Nathan scowled. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t born with a yen to save the world,” he remarked shortly. “It’s no wonder you’re still stuck in this hell-hole. Why don’t you give yourself a break and find a decent job?”

“I have a decent job,” declared Jake evenly. “Everyone has the right to a defence.”

“Even crackheads and losers?” asked Nathan disparagingly, but he offered a conciliatory smile when his brother didn’t respond.

Wiping his damp forehead then with a slightly unsteady hand, he unwittingly drew Jake’s attention to his flushed face. A face that was amazingly like his own, Jake reflected as he had on many other occasions. How could two men who looked so alike be so different? Even at forty-two, their likeness to one another was still unique.

There were subtle differences, of course, he acknowledged as Nathan pulled out a handkerchief to mop his sweating brow. He guessed his brother was perhaps twenty pounds heavier, and his hair had been cut by an expert hand. It didn’t hang straight or show the after-effects of his nails like Jake’s did when he had been raking his scalp.

“So—how’s Caitlin?” he asked at last, deciding it might be easier if he began the conversation. He’d never met his brother’s wife, but he had seen her picture. She’d seemed strangely subdued for a man like Nathan. He’d have expected his brother to want a fashion model for a wife. But, of course, she had had money….