Dangerous Temptation Read Free Page A

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