Dangerous Temptation (10 page)

After all, only months before, he'd been congratulating himself on his success. After years of having to live with the fact of Caitlin's rejection of his plans for her, he'd been given a second chance. That wimp she'd been living with had blotted his copybook, and Caitlin had come running home with her tail between her legs.

He remembered how hard it had been not to say "I told you so" and he thought he'd been rewarded when Nathan Wolfe appeared on his horizon. Even then, he hadn't been able to believe his luck when Caitlin had showed she was attracted to him, too, and when they'd announced their engagement, he'd thought he was the luckiest man alive.

He should have known better.

In fact, he thought now, he should have been suspicious of any man Caitlin was attracted to. Her record, so far as emotional relationships was concerned, was abysmal, and she'd proved time and time again how sensible he had been not to take her ambitions seriously. In his opinion, women were hopelessly impetuous and far too easily led.

Even so, Nathan had appeared to embody everything he'd hoped for in a future son-in-law. He was older than Caitlin, which was a distinct advantage. It meant he had experience, and although he hadn't been married before, he'd had plenty of time to sow his wild oats. In addition to which, he'd insisted he was willing to learn, which meant that Matthew would be able to teach him his own methods and consequently keep one hand on the reins even after his retirement.

The only doubt he had had concerned the Wolfes' own operation, but Nathan had admitted—modestly, Matthew had felt—that his father's sawmill was having problems due to a slump in the market, and consequently there'd be no conflict of interest should Matthew choose to take him on.

To trust him…

Matthew felt the familiar flutter in his heart at the remembrance of how gullible he'd been. Dear God, after all those years of trusting no one but himself, he'd been pathetically easy to deceive.

Well, initially anyway, he conceded, his lips twisting. But Nathan had not only
not
been as clever as Matthew thought him to be, he hadn't been as clever as he'd believed himself, and within months of his tenure, Matthew had been receiving reports that proved beyond doubt that Nathan's judgment was sadly flawed.

His heart attack could not have come at a worse time. For weeks afterwards, he'd been forced to lie helpless while Nathan systematically took the company down. Only his lack of experience of a large organisation had worked against him, and his efforts to award tenders for contracts on the basis of favours granted had eventually been noticed in accounts.

Nevertheless, the half-yearly figures had been appalling, and by the time Matthew dragged himself back into his office, the shareholders were lusting for his blood. They were threatening to hit him with a vote of no confidence in the company's management, and with competitors breathing down his neck, something drastic had to be done.

But he hadn't fired Nathan. He'd known that by admitting his son-in-law's incompetence, he'd be indirectly blaming himself, and any hint of a lack of judgment on his part could trigger an instant collapse of Webster shares. Instead, without actually making any overt reference to his mismanagement, he had systematically stripped Nathan of all responsibility in the company. And, just as inevitably, Matthew had resumed his former position, against medical advice and at the risk of his own health.

He didn't know what Caitlin had made of her husband's obvious change of status. She seemed content, and he had never allowed himself to entertain the thought that Nathan might have been a failure as a husband, too. He still refused to admit he could have been so totally wrong about the man, and in consequence he'd kept Nathan's mistakes to himself.

Well, almost…

That was when he'd asked Marshall to join the company. He'd been prepared to pay him anything if he'd come to work for him. He needed someone he could trust in a position of authority. Someone who could be his eyes and ears, without alerting the other members of his board—or Nathan—what was going on.

Now, as he watched the younger man cross the thick carpet towards him, he was aware of his own mortality as never before. One day soon, he was going to have to make a decision about Marshall, and the knowledge filled him with defeat. He'd fought against it for so long, but fate was catching up with him. He couldn't go on running Webster's. Already, he had had intimations that his health was deteriorating more rapidly than even his doctors had expected, and despite his misgivings, he had to choose someone to be his successor. Obviously, it couldn't be Nathan. Whatever happened, he couldn't allow that. But Marshall… Marshall was still largely an unknown quantity. Despite their enforced intimacy, Matthew knew he was only here under duress.

He sighed. If only the boy could understand. But he'd never forgotten that once Matthew had forbidden him the privilege of working for the company. Never forgiven him, either. And if Marshall's mother wasn't still alive—and vulnerable—the young man would never have agreed to his request.

"Caitlin called," he said now, lounging into the chair across the desk from Matthew and regarding him with cool blue eyes. He hooked his heel across his knees. "I thought you'd like to know."

Matthew kept his temper with an effort. But he couldn't suppress the indignant flutter in his chest. God, was his wife right? Had he made another foolish error? Marshall appeared to hate him as much as he admired him; he certainly showed him no respect.

"Didn't she want to speak to me?" he demanded, his tone just short of an accusation. "You knew I wanted to talk to her if she called."

Marshall shrugged. He was a man of middle height, stocky but muscular, and Matthew knew he worked out several times a week. He had short brown hair and he wore wire-rimmed spectacles, but his appearance was deceptive. He was as strong as an ox and just as stubborn when he chose. Like Caitlin…

"She wouldn't wait," Marshall said carelessly, flicking a speck of lint from his sleeve. He hesitated, and then added reluctantly, "I got the impression she was—nervous. I guess finding your husband doesn't know you is quite a strain."

"If he doesn't," muttered Matthew sceptically, tapping a pen somewhat agitatedly against his blotter. "What do you think? Is he lying, or has he really lost it? How the hell are we going to handle it if it's true?"

Marshall's face was annoyingly blank. "You're talking about the discrepancies in the South American contract."

"Well, I'm not bloody interested in his health, if you're in any doubt." Matthew scowled. "How in God's name did we let him get away with it? Does nobody do their jobs around here but me?"

Marshall's expression hardened. "It was you who insisted on keeping him on," he pointed out evenly.

"Only because it would have been a damn sight more dangerous to let him go," snarled his employer harshly. "Besides, I didn't think he'd be reckless enough to attempt to defraud the company again. After bringing us to the brink of bankruptcy the last time, I thought he'd have learned more sense. Christ, the man's a complete shit, and I want him out!"

"So you weren't thinking of Caitlin's feelings, then?" Marshall was sardonic, and Matthew gave him a brooding look.

"That, too," he said defensively. "Hell, she's married to him, isn't she? How could I tell her what a bastard he was? Credit me with some feelings, Marshall. I'm not totally without discrimination."

"But you've changed your mind now."

"Situations alter cases," said Matthew pedantically. He shook his head. "We have to think of the company. God, if this present fiasco were made public, I can just imagine what that would do for our shares."

Marshall considered. "Well, I don't think there's anything we can do until he's back in England. Then you can have your own physician check him over without causing too much fuss. But—" he paused "—if it's true, it's going to be difficult to prove his guilt. You can't accuse a man who doesn't remember what you're accusing him of."

Matthew flung the pen across the desk in frustration. "The truth is, it's going to be hard to prove whatever the prognosis. If he's fooled the doctors in the States, why shouldn't he fool them here? And how am I going to tell Caitlin her husband's a criminal? Thank God there aren't any children to complicate things even more."

Marshall's lip curled. "Thank God," he echoed harshly, and Matthew gave him a remorseful stare.

"You're a lot of help, I must say," he muttered. "And don't pretend you don't know what I mean. I've made mistakes in my time, I admit it. But dammit all, Nathan was the worst."

Marshall sighed as if expelling his impatience on the breath, and then drew his brows together. "Well—there's always the chance that his condition will be temporary. If he has lost his memory, it may be he'll recover it when he gets home. Familiar things, familiar places, familiar people. I've heard there are no hard-and-fast rules where amnesia is concerned."

"Which doesn't do a lot for us," declared Matthew wearily, lines of strain appearing beside his mouth. "Whatever happens, it's going to be weeks, maybe even months, before we can nail him. Which means I'm going to have to make good the damage myself."

Marshall's brows elevated. "There is the woman—Lisa Abbott. She may know something about it. I could go and see her."

"And warn him that we're onto him? Not likely." Matthew shook his head. "No, for the moment, our hands are tied. I just hope he hasn't spent all the money. Half a million, Marshall! God, I can't believe he had the brains to do it. He must have the luck of the devil!"

"I wouldn't call being involved in a major air disaster particularly lucky," observed Marshall sardonically. "And if he has really forgotten everything, I'd guess he's feeling pretty low. Okay, you want your money back, but spare the man some pity. No name, no identity, no nothing! I'll be interested to see how he handles it. It can't be easy."

"Hmm."

Matthew was noncommittal. Right at the moment, he couldn't find it in his heart to feel any compassion for Nathan at all. For all he knew, there might be other scams not yet discovered. For a man as unscrupulous as his son-in-law, there were always loopholes he could breach.

"Think about Caitlin," said Marshall now, aware of the other man's brooding countenance. "And you're not going to do yourself any favours if you can't put this out of your mind. I've told you, when he's recovered I'll handle it. Think of your daughter and what this might do to her."

"I'm not without sensitivity as far as my daughter's feelings are concerned," retorted Matthew defensively. "I know you think I'm totally selfish, but it isn't true." He met the younger man's accusing eyes and dropped his gaze abruptly. "All right. I'll do as you say. That's what I employed you for after all. You don't have to keep reminding me you'd rather not be here."

Caitlin turned onto her left side, trying to find a comfortable spot, and then remembered why she'd turned the other way in the first place. Now she had an uninterrupted view of her husband's reclining body. And although his eyes were closed, he was no less disturbing to her peace of mind.

All around them, the other occupants of the first-class cabin of the aircraft were unaware of her distraction. Apart from the comforting drone of the engines and an occasional snort from a sleeping passenger, all was quiet. Even the cabin staff had disappeared to enjoy their meal next to the kitchens. Now and then, the tantalising smell of the prime sirloin Caitlin had been offered earlier drifted her way.