Dangerous Temptation (33 page)

"Mmm." Janie acknowledged the rebuff with a wry grimace. Then, "We managed," she replied a little coolly. "Della's getting better all the time."

Caitlin knew that that was a deliberate attempt to rattle her. Della Parish was the sixth-former they employed on a part-time basis, and generally Janie didn't have a good word to say for her. But the girl meant well, and she was enthusiastic, and Caitlin had no doubt that she hoped one day to join them full-time. But the fact was, the business wouldn't support more than two people, and until recently it hadn't been a problem.

Now, as Janie put down her cup and made to go through to the shop, Caitlin caught her arm. "Wait."

Janie looked as if she might shake her hand off, but then she, too, seemed to relent. "What is it, Cat?" she exclaimed. "Ever since you got back, you've looked—dazed. Is something wrong, for God's sake? Has that bastard been beating you up again?"

"
No
!" Caitlin's denial was almost too vehement, and Janie waited with some impatience for her to explain. "It's just—well, if you must know, the weekend was brilliant."

"With Nathan?" Janie looked staggered.

"Yes."

"You're not telling me you—slept with him?" And at her friend's guilty expression, "My God, Cat, are you out of your mind?"

"No." Caitlin licked her lips. "Oh, Janie, I don't know how to explain it. It just—happened."

Janie snorted. "You mean you let the man who raped—"

"Please." Caitlin held up a hand to silence her. "I know what you're going to say, and don't think I haven't thought of it myself. But it wasn't like before.
He
wasn't like before. My God, if it wasn't so outrageous, I'd say he was a different man!"

"He must have been." Janie wasn't sympathetic. She shook her head. "I can't believe this, Cat. I thought you wanted a divorce."

"I do. At least, I did. That is…" Caitlin didn't know what she wanted any more. Despite the explanation she had given Janie, she hardly believed it herself.

Janie stared at her. "He's that different?"

"Yes."

"So, as far as you're concerned, you're hoping he doesn't get his memory back?"

"Yes. No. Oh, I don't know, Janie. Try and understand. This has been hard for me to comprehend."

"I'll bet." Janie was still sardonic. "God, I can't believe you're saying this after everything that's happened. Caitlin, men don't change. Not so completely. Are you sure he's not just acting the part? I mean, when you said you were going to spend the weekend with him, I wasn't enthusiastic, but I never expected this."

"Do you think I did?"

"But how did it happen? I thought you slept in separate rooms."

"We do." Caitlin felt a trace of colour enter her cheeks at the other woman's words, and thought how ridiculous it was that a woman of her age should still feel embarrassed when she spoke about sex. "But—my mother—well, Marshall was at Fairings, and she'd given him my old bedroom. In consequence, Nathan and I shared a room. There was nothing I could do about it."

"And you're saying it just happened?"

"Not like that." Caitlin didn't want Janie to think it had just been a case of proximity and nothing else. "We—we went for a walk on Saturday afternoon, and—and he kissed me. Then—then on Saturday night, when we went to bed—"

"Don't bother to elaborate." Janie's lips twisted scornfully. "Believe it or not, but I can guess what happened next. I just don't know why you went along with it. Weren't you afraid of what he might do?"

"Initially, perhaps." Caitlin remembered that Janie's opinion of Nathan was still coloured by what she had told her during the early days of their marriage. "But—he was so sensitive, so gentle. I just knew I didn't have to be afraid. Don't tell me I'm crazy. I sometimes think I must be going mad."

Janie shook her head. "We're talking about Nathan Wolfe here? Nathan Wolfe, your husband?"

"Yes." Caitlin swallowed. "I know what you must be thinking. But believe me—it's the truth."

"And what about Lisa Abbott?"

Janie was nothing if not candid, and Caitlin drew a painful breath. "She—telephoned," she said. "On Saturday evening. As a matter of fact, I answered the call."

Janie gasped. "And you still went to bed with him?"

Caitlin got up from the stool where she had been sitting and paced restlessly about the small storeroom. "It does sound unlikely, doesn't it?"

"Unlikely?" Janie scoffed. "It sounds downright unhealthy to me. How could you, Cat? How could you do it? My God, after everything you've said."

Caitlin could feel herself getting angry and tried to subdue her temper. Janie was only thinking of her after all, and goodness knows, she had been there for her when everything had looked so black.

"He didn't recognise her," she said now, carefully. "He didn't know who she was. She obviously called because he hadn't been in touch with her. If he was lying, do you think I wouldn't know?"

Janie gave her a level look. "So—what did she say?"

"I don't know, do I?"

"You mean, you let him take the call?"

Caitlin's nails dug into her palms. "Of course. What else could I do? And, fortunately, she didn't even tell him her name."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Tell him her name," exclaimed Janie impatiently. "For pity's sake, Cat, what are you saying? Just because he's apparently mellowed enough for you to allow him to fuck your brains out, have you completely taken leave of your senses?"

"You don't know anything about it." Caitlin was hurt, but she hid her anguish beneath a show of indignation. "I think you'd better not say any more. I don't want us to fall out."

"And I don't want you to throw yourself away on a man who doesn't know the meaning of the word honour," retorted Janie. "But you're right, he's not worth our quarrelling about it. I'll go and unlock the door."

It wasn't quite what Caitlin wanted to hear, but she realised it was hard for Janie to understand. If she hadn't seen it—experienced it—for herself, she would never have believed it, either. And she dared not voice what she was secretly thinking: that not only did Nathan appear to be different, he
was
a different man.

But that couldn't be true.

Yet, with every day that passed, her feelings became more and more confused. Oh, she was well aware that it must be infinitely harder for Nathan to cope with, but at least he had nothing to compare his present behaviour with. She did. She remembered the man he used to be, and this man was nothing like him, in character, word, or deed.

The only solution she could come up with was that the knock he had received to his head had been more serious than the doctors had imagined. She'd read of psychological disorders that were treated by removing or killing certain cells in the brain. What if the accident had altered Nathan's brain cells? What if the amnesia he was suffering had subdued the violent streak in his nature?

But that begged the question of what might happen if—
when—
his memory returned. It followed, surely, that if he regained all his faculties, he would regain his previous character, also. She couldn't bear the thought of that happening. She had begun to care for the man he'd become.

Nevertheless, if she was honest, she would have to admit that Nathan had changed again. Not substantially, perhaps, but there was no doubt that since he'd made love to her, he had become far more silent and withdrawn.

She'd tried to make excuses for it, but since Sunday night, she'd begun to have doubts about his feelings for her. On Sunday morning, she had been so bemused by what had happened, she hadn't considered that he might not feel the same way about her, but subsequent events had forced her to take another look at his behaviour.

There was no doubt that she could arouse him. She'd known that right from the first time she went to see him in the hospital. He'd made no secret of his attraction for her, and it had been that, as much as anything, that had erased her fears towards him.

But since Sunday—or perhaps even Saturday night—their relationship had subtly altered. Now she was in the position of wanting his attention, while he…

She moistened her lips. What did he want? The trouble was, she didn't really know. She'd thought he wanted her, but after making love to her on Saturday night, he had allowed her to make all the running.

Such running as there'd been, she amended wryly. After the way he'd behaved on Sunday night after their lovemaking in the shower, she hadn't had the confidence or the courage to approach him again, and far from sharing her bed, he'd slept in his own bedroom for the past two nights.

It might have been easier if she could have consoled herself with the thought that it was what Nathan—the
old
Na-than—would have done. It wasn't. The Nathan she had known before the accident would have ravaged her body whenever he chose to do so. And he'd never really known her. He'd touched her body, but not her soul.

And that was the real reason she'd come back to work. She couldn't bear to stay in the flat with him. If he didn't say something soon, she was very much afraid she'd dissolve into tears.

She sighed, and deciding she couldn't remain closeted in the storeroom all day, she washed up the coffee cups and left them on the drainer to dry. Then, squaring her shoulders, she went out into the sales area, exchanging a tentative smile with her friend.

"Will you be leaving at lunchtime as usual?" asked Janie, adjusting the pointers on a rather beautiful grandmother clock that was inclined to lose several minutes every day, and Caitlin drew a shaky breath. She'd forgotten it was Tuesday. She only worked half days on Tuesdays. It wouldn't do to arouse Janie's suspicions again by saying no.

"If that's all right," she said, "although as I've been off so much lately—"

"Think nothing of it." Janie was offhand. "I was surprised you stayed all day yesterday. Weren't you worried about leaving him alone?"

Caitlin acknowledged the reproof. "He's not a child, Janie."

"Isn't he?" Janie didn't sound convinced. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a little free time myself this morning. I want to go to the bank. Will you be all right on your own?"

"Of course." Caitlin tried not to sound defensive. "And—well, I'm sorry if you think I'm making a muddle of my life. But it is my life, and I have to live it the way I see fit. It may not work out. It probably won't. But I have to give it a chance, don't you see?"

"I see that you don't want to face the realities of the situation," replied Janie flatly. "But, as you say, it's nothing to do with me. I just hope you won't live to regret it."

"So do I."

Caitlin forced a smile, but after Janie had left, she admitted how unlikely it was. She was probably just tilting at windmills, with something less than providence on her side.

The morning passed fairly quickly, and although Caitlin was busy, she still found plenty of time to think. Too much time, she reflected unhappily. And her thoughts didn't soothe her anxieties at all.

Had she instigated everything that had happened?

That was her greatest fear.

She knew she'd instigated what had happened on Sunday evening when they got back to the flat, but what about Saturday night, as well?

After all, she had known the dangers of confronting him in the bedroom. She'd known there was every chance he might get the wrong signal from her actions, and yet she'd stayed there long after any sane individual would have gone to bed.

She had been angry, of course. That was her only real defence. She'd been furious that Lisa Abbott should have felt confident enough to ring him at Fairings, and desperate to expunge some of that rage and frustration before trying to sleep.

Or was that just an excuse?

In any event, his weakness had neutralised her anger.

She supposed the real truth was, she'd been jealous. Bund jealous, or she'd never have had the nerve to go to his room. But did that mean she was to blame for everything that had happened? And if not, why was Nathan so distant now?

A customer came into the shop to price a pair of Meissen vases Janie had set on a Queen Anne writing desk in the window, and Caitlin took the opportunity to escape her fears with real enthusiasm. So much so, that the customer, an elderly gentleman, was persuaded the vases were a bargain, and she was putting his cheque away in the drawer when her friend returned.

Janie's attitude didn't appear to have changed in her absence, and afraid she was about to launch another attack on Nathan, Caitlin hurried into speech. "I've sold those two vases," she said. "The Meissen ones that represented autumn and winter." She smiled rather triumphantly. The vases had been around for some considerable time.

"Great." Janie's tone was hardly enthusiastic, and Caitlin stifled a sigh.

"Isn't it?" she said, refusing to be daunted. "I don't know how you've managed to keep going without me."

"Nor do I," averred Janie wryly, but she didn't return her smile. Then, "What did you say Nathan was doing this morning? Do you trust him on his own?"

"Of course."

Caitlin couldn't sustain her good humour any longer, and turning away, she went into the back room to plug in the electric kettle. It was nearly eleven, she saw ruefully. Another hour and a half to go. If Janie continued to criticise her behaviour, she might have to reconsider her involvement in the partnership.

"So where is he right now?" Janie inquired from the open doorway, and Caitlin didn't pretend not to understand whom she meant.

"At home. I suppose," she said. "Mrs Spriggs was coming this morning. As far as I know, he had no plans to go out."

"So how come I've just seen him in Regent Street?" asked the other woman tautly, and Caitlin turned to her, anxiety filling her face.

"Nathan?" she breathed, not wanting to believe it. And at Janie's nod, "Was he—running? I told you, he's become very health conscious all of a sudden."

"He wasn't running." Janie's tone was flat. "He was coming out of a travel agent's, actually. I walked right past him, and he cut me dead."

Caitlin moistened her lips. "Well, that's not surprising, is it?" she exclaimed, feeling some small measure of relief. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, but he really doesn't remember a thing. Certainly not people he used to associate with. Even Daddy and Marshall have accepted that."