Beg To Die
Beverly Barton

In memory of a very special lady, an avid reader and a

fellow Tuscumbian who never missed one of my

autographings,

JAN WHITTLE

and

In memory of my dear cousin

LOUISE GIBBS THORNE,

a fellow writer whose weekly column appeared in

The Colbert County Reporter

for many years.

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

By the same Author:

Preview

Copyright

About the Publisher

Prologue

He pounded on her door and shouted her name. Go away, she wanted to scream. Leave me the hell alone. But she knew he wouldn’t go. Not unless someone came and dragged him away.

Maybe she should call Jacob and tell him that Jamie was harassing her again. As the county sheriff, he could hold Jamie in jail overnight. Or she could phone Caleb and ask for his help in getting rid of an unwanted midnight visitor. Caleb had gotten plenty of practice lately as the bouncer at Jazzy’s Joint. He’d thrown Jamie out of the place several times recently.

But for some reason, she just couldn’t bring herself to pick up the telephone. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Jamie. Not tonight of all nights. But she’d been expecting him, had known somewhere deep down inside her that he would pay her a visit after his engagement party ended.

“Jazzy…lover, please, let me in.”

His voice was slightly slurred, no doubt the result of numerous glasses of champagne, and not the twenty-dollars-a-bottle stuff either. Probably Moet’s Dom Perig non or Taittinger Comtes des Champagnes. Or possibly Roederer Cristal or Pommery Cuvee Louise. Something that cost no less than eighty bucks a bottle. In hosting the big bash celebrating their only grandchild’s upcoming nuptials, Big Jim and Reba Upton had spared no expense. Everybody in Cherokee Pointe had been talking of nothing else. The Uptons had hired a catering service out of Knoxville for the engagement party and the rehearsal dinner, the same service the bride’s parents had chosen to cater the wedding reception next month.

While Jamie continued banging on the door and pleading with her to talk to him, Jazzy curled up tightly on the sofa and placed her hands over her ears. Jamie had been engaged twice before and hadn’t followed through with wedding plans either time. But it looked as if his engagement to Laura Willis might actually end in marriage. If for one minute she believed Jamie’s marrying another woman would put an end to his obsession with her, she’d be the first in line to offer them congratulations.

Sure, there had been a time when she’d dreamed of becoming Jamie’s wife, but that had been years ago, when she’d been young and foolish. That stupid dream had died a slow, painful death as maturity had given her a firm grip on reality. No way would Jamie’s rich and socially prominent family ever accept her; they still saw her as nothing but a white trash tramp who’d gotten pregnant at sixteen.

Did she still care about Jamie? Yeah, somewhere in her heart remnants of that passionate first love still existed. Only a few years ago, she had still been as obsessed with Jamie as he was with her. For the past ten years he had floated in and out of her life, just as he had floated in and out of town. But this time, when he’d returned a few months ago with a new fiancée in tow, Jazzy had turned him away when he’d come to her. And one night, when he hadn’t taken no for an answer, she had threatened his life. Or, to be more precise, she’d threatened his manhood. And what truly frightened her was the realization that she would have shot him—shot his balls off—if he’d come after her again.

“Jazzy…don’t be mean. Please, doll baby, let me come in. Just one last time. Don’t you know how much I love you?”

No, damn you, no! You don’t love me! You never did. You’re not capable of loving anyone except yourself.

While she sat on the sofa, hugging herself, wishing she could block out the sound of Jamie’s pleading, memories washed over her, flooding her senses. The first time Jamie had kissed her. The junior/senior prom, when she’d given him her virginity and had known she would love Jamie forever. The day he’d cried when he told her he couldn’t marry her even though she was carrying his child. The night he had returned to Cherokee Pointe after his first year of college. They’d made love repeatedly for forty-eight hours, leaving bed only when necessary. The first return visit, years ago, when he’d brought home his first fiancée—and Jazzy had welcomed him into her arms, into her bed, not caring about his bride to be.

How many times had she forgiven Jamie? How many times had she given him just one more chance? Time had run out for them. She knew it, even if he didn’t. She’d turn thirty soon; she had wasted enough of her life waiting for Jamie Upton to give her what she wanted, what she’d always wanted from him. Marriage.

“Jazzy…Jazzy…baby, please, talk to me. Even if I marry Laura, it doesn’t mean we can’t still be together.”

A cold, deadly calm settled over her heart. She stood, squared her shoulders and walked to the door. Her hand hovered over the knob. You’re the only one who can end this thing once and for all, she told herself. Do what you have to do to free yourself from Jamie.

Simultaneously Jazzy unlocked the deadbolt and turned the knob. When she eased open the door, Jamie took full advantage and shoved his way into her apartment. Before she could say a word, he grabbed her and kissed her. Impatiently. Brutally. His tongue thrust inside her mouth. For a split second, she savored his savage possession. Then common sense took charge. She broke away from him, her breathing ragged. He reached out for her, but she sidestepped his grasp.

“I need you, Jazzy. I’m aching, I want you so bad.”

“What we once had is over,” she told him. “It’s been over for a long time. I’ve accepted that fact. It’s time you did.”

“I don’t love her. I’m marrying her because Big Mama is giving me no other choice. She expects me to marry Laura.”

Jazzy laughed, mirthless chuckles. “And God forbid you ever go against what Big Mama wants.”

“I’m sorry.” His shoulders slumped. “I know I’m a spineless bastard. But if I don’t keep Big Mama happy, I could lose everything. Big Daddy’s done told me this is my last chance. If I screw things up with Laura, he’ll write me out of his will.”

Jazzy almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “You know I’ll never be your mistress. I draw the line at fooling around with a married man.”

Lifting his gaze from where he’d been staring at the floor, he looked directly at her. “Would you let me stay tonight? Just for a little while. A couple of hours.” He held up his arms in an “I surrender” gesture. “Just let me hold you. I swear, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I need you, Jazzy. One last time. Please, lover. Please.”

Against her better judgment, she nodded. “You can stay an hour. That’s all.” When he opened his arms to her, she shook her head. “Sit down on the sofa. I’ll fix us some coffee. I think you could use some. You should sober up before you head home and try to explain to your fiancée where you’ve been.”

“Hey, honey, if you’re planning on getting your gun while the coffee is brewing, there’s no need. Believe it or not, I want us to be friends. I’d prefer lovers, but I’ll settle for friends. I just can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Oh, hell. Why had he said that? Don’t go soft. Not now. You’ve heard Jamie’s line of bull before. You know the guy can sweet talk his way out of any jam—or into any woman’s bed. But not her bed. Not ever again.

“You aren’t going to get to me,” she told him. “Remember, I’ve heard it all before. I’m the girl you honed your persuasion skills on.”

“You may not believe me, Jazzy, but…” He came up behind her, but didn’t touch her, just stood very close, his breath warm on her neck. “In my own selfish way, I do love you. I always have. And I always will.”

Odd how a part of her wanted to believe him, maybe even needed to believe him. When she turned to him, he reached out and caressed her cheek. She sucked in her breath.

“Please, Jazzy.” He looked at her with those sexy hazel eyes, his expression one of intense longing. “Baby…please.”

She didn’t protest when he pulled her close. Gently. And kissed her. Tenderly. All the old feelings resurfaced and for a moment—just a moment—she wanted him in the same old way. He allowed her to end the kiss. Then he stood there staring at her, waiting for her judgment call.

“I can offer you coffee and conversation for an hour,” she told him. “That’s it. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.” A sly, seductive grin curved the corners of his lips as he turned and walked over to the sofa, then sat and crossed one leg over the other knee.

You’re a fool, Jazzy told herself as she rushed into the kitchen and prepared the coffeemaker. Being nice to Jamie wasn’t the answer. But God in heaven, old habits died hard.

Tonight she would say good-bye to Jamie. This time would be the last time. And if he ever came to her again, she knew what she’d have to do. She’d have no choice, not if she wanted to save herself.

The man had to die! It wasn’t that she wanted to kill him or anyone else, but he had left her no other choice. Not only would he have to die, but she feared others would have to forfeit their lives, also, if they interfered. Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault; after all, he was only human, a mere man, with all the weaknesses inherent to his sex. But he was the worst of his kind, spineless and weak. He gave in to his baser instincts without regard to how his actions might harm others. He reveled in the depravity that plagued most men and many women.

Her hand settled over her belly. In order to protect herself—and her baby—she needed to plan a strategy that would put suspicion on someone else. But not just anyone. She wanted that woman to pay with her life, and what better justice than to have her executed for murdering her lover? After all, the whole town knew she’d threatened to kill him.

She stood in the shadows, waiting and watching, knowing where he was and what he was doing. He was with that woman, making love to her. How could he do this? He had sworn his love was true. Lies. All lies! They were fornicators. Sinners. Evil to the core. Both of them deserved to die. To be punished.

She shouldn’t act hastily, in the heat of the moment. That was the way mistakes were made. She had made mistakes in the past, but not this time. She had trusted when she shouldn’t have, but never again. She needed to be calm and in control when she ended the son of a bitch’s life. There was no need for her to kill him tonight. As long as she eliminated him before his wedding day, everything would be all right.

She would not kill him quickly. A quick death was too good for him. He needed to die slowly, painfully, tortured and tormented. The thought of listening to his agonizing screams excited her. Her mind filled with vividly gruesome impressions of his last hours on earth.

“Everything I do, I do for you, my sweet baby. I won’t let anyone hurt you. They think we aren’t good enough for them. They think they can sweep us out the door and pretend we don’t exist. But I won’t let that happen. You don’t have anything to worry about. Not now. Not ever. Mother’s here…Mother’s here.”

Chapter 1

The man writhed in agony, his naked torso helplessly bound, his legs spread-eagled. Tight rope manacled his ankles to either side of the heavy spikes in the wooden floor. She removed the thick cotton rag used to gag him effectively and mute his tortured cries. Self-satisfied and excited, she stood over him, the bloody knife clutched tightly in her steady hand. The dim glow of the lone lamp burning in the room cast shadows across her face, revealing nothing about her except a few flyaway tendrils of burnished red hair. As she lowered the knife, the man’s eyes widened in terror. He knew what she was going to do. He struggled futilely against his captivity. Sweat dotted his forehead, his upper lip, and dripped along the side of his face. When she placed the knife between his thighs, red with blood from where she’d tormented him, she laughed.

“ ‘Whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye reap.’ ”

He mumbled pleadingly as he shivered, his head thrashing side to side, panic seizing him completely. Fear consumed him.

“You will never hurt anyone ever again,” she told him. “I will punish you for your many sins and rid the world of your evil.” She brought the knife back, reached under him and lifted his scrotum, then, with one swift, deadly slice, castrated her victim. “I am your angel of death, whoremonger!”

Genny Madoc screamed. When she shot straight up in bed, her fiancé, Dallas Sloan, came up beside her a split second later. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she trembled.

“What happened?” he asked, then brushed his lips along her temple. “Was it a nightmare or a vision?”

She gave herself over completely to his comforting care, having come to depend on him with total trust these past few months. “Both. A nightmare vision.”

“You haven’t been bothered with visions since…” He let his words trail off. She suspected that he, as she, preferred not to dwell on the events of this past January, when she’d come very close to being a maniacal serial killer’s fifth victim here in Cherokee County.

Although it was early April in the mountains, the nighttime and early morning temperatures remained in the high thirties and low forties. Genny shivered as a cold chill racked her body. Dallas lifted the heavy quilt from the foot of their bed and wrapped it around her, then pulled her back down into the bed beside him. She cuddled against him and sighed heavily.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

“I’d rather forget it…but I can’t. I believe the vision was a forewarning. I saw a man being murdered.”

“Did you recognize either the victim or the killer?” Dallas asked.

“Yes and no, but…” She pulled away from him and rolled out of bed.

Dallas leaned over, just enough to loosen the covers from his upper body. Genny looked at him, at this man she loved more than life itself, and wished more fervently than she ever had before that she wasn’t cursed with the gift of sight. Loving her, living with her, marrying her come June, Dallas had to deal with her special talents as only the mate of a true psychic would have to do.

Genny discarded the heavy quilt, dropping it to the floor as she slipped into her robe and house shoes, her movements slow and unsteady. She turned to Dallas. “I won’t be able to sleep. I think I’ll fix myself some coffee and go outside to watch the sunrise. You stay here and go back to sleep.”

Totally naked, Dallas emerged from the bed in all his masculine glory, a morning erection jutting out between his thighs. “You’re so weak you can barely walk. You aren’t going anywhere without me.” He grabbed his discarded jeans and shirt off a nearby chair. “I’ll fix coffee. Then if you want to go outside, I’ll go with you.”

“I’m just a little weak. The vision drained some of my strength, but it was a brief vision and I’m not exhausted. Really I’m not.”

Not bothering to put on his socks, he stuffed his feet into his shoes, put his arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the bedroom. “You need to talk about it. If it was a premonition of someone’s death, then maybe there’s something we can do to prevent it from happening.”

Genny loved the way he said “we” so naturally, without giving it any thought. Almost instantly, from the first night they met, they had become one spirit.

Fifteen minutes later, Dallas and Genny, coffee mugs in hand, stood on the front porch of her old Tennessee farmhouse and watched the sunrise. Dallas’s strong arms encompassed her as he stood behind her, his big body warming her. Pale and pink, like the tips of a hundred torches barely beginning to brighten the horizon, the first glimmer of morning sunlight lit the Eastern sky.

“No matter how many times I see this, it never ceases to take my breath away,” she told him.

“I know exactly what you mean.” One of his big hands clamped down on her shoulder.

When she glanced back and up at him, he wasn’t looking at the sunrise, but at her. And she knew that she, not nature’s beauty, was what captivated him.

Genny glanced up at the sky, leaned her body back, closer into Dallas, and lifted the strong, dark brew to her lips. The Colombian Supreme had a rich, mellow flavor, and she, like Dallas, took her coffee black.

“The man was Jamie Upton,” Genny said, her voice not much more than a whisper, as if she thought by not saying his name too loudly, it might somehow protect him.

“You saw someone kill Jamie Upton?” Dallas nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose. “I’m not surprised. I figure it’s only a matter of time before he pisses off the wrong woman.”

“Please don’t say that.”

Dallas took a swig of coffee, then set his mug on the windowsill behind him. When Genny took several steps toward the edge of the porch, he followed and wrapped his arms around her again. “Tell me what’s frightened you so. There has to be more to your vision than simply seeing Jamie killed.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” she asked.

“On how he was murdered and on who killed him.”

“I don’t know who she was, but—”

“So I was right, huh? I figured it was a woman. After all, it would be only poetic justice if some woman chops off his balls.”

Genny gasped. Dallas clutched her shoulders and whirled her around to face him.

“Is that what happened?”

Feeling suddenly cold and knowing the color had drained from her face, Genny nodded. “And—and there was something about the woman.”

“I thought you said you didn’t recognize her.”

“I didn’t see her face, but I saw a few strands of her hair.”

“So?” Dallas stared at her quizzically.

“Her hair was red.”

“Red? Good God, honey, you don’t think it was Jazzy, do you?” When she couldn’t bring herself to respond, Dallas grunted. “You think you saw Jazzy murder Jamie, don’t you?”

“No, of course not. Jazzy isn’t capable of murder.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Every human being is capable of killing, given the right provocation. But if Jazzy was going to kill Jamie, she’d already have done it. Long ago.”

Genny took a deep breath, then exhaled as she nodded agreement. “I don’t think the woman who killed Jamie in my vision was Jazzy, but my instincts warn me that somehow Jamie’s death will bring great trouble to her.”

“So should we forewarn Jamie?”

Genny shook her head. “No. He’d never believe me. He’d only laugh at me. But I’m going to tell Jazzy. She needs to stay as far away from Jamie as she possibly can.”

“That might be a problem, considering how he hounds her all the time.”

“I think she needs to take out a restraining order against him.” Genny looked directly at Dallas. “Now that you’re the chief of police, you can handle that for her, can’t you?”

“Yeah, sure, but Jamie being Jamie, I doubt a restraining order will keep him away from her.”

“Then maybe I should speak to Caleb McCord.”

“McCord? The bouncer at Jazzy’s Joint?”

“Yes, that Caleb McCord.”

“Am I missing something? Why would you tell—”

“That’s right, I didn’t tell you, did I?”

“Tell me what?”

“Caleb is in love with Jazzy.”

“He is?”

“Yes, he is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Dallas chuckled. Genny turned her attention back to the morning sky as she sipped her coffee and allowed her fiancé to pull her down in his lap as he sat in one of the four rocking chairs on the front porch.

Laura Willis rested on the window seat in the guest bedroom she shared with her younger sister, Sheridan, at the Upton estate outside Cherokee Pointe. She’d been living here since Jamie brought her to meet his grandparents three months ago. Until her sister and parents had arrived two days ago for her engagement party, she had shared Jamie’s bed many nights. The nights he stayed at home. His grandmother, Miss Reba, assured her that Jamie wasn’t with other women on those nights he stayed out until dawn, but she knew better. Her Jamie was a ladies’ man. And there was one lady—and she used the term loosely—Jamie found irresistible. Jazzy Talbot.

Maybe she was a fool to believe that once she and Jamie were married he’d be faithful to her. But he had solemnly vowed to her that once they said their “I dos,” he would be true to her. Perhaps she had to believe he’d keep his word because she loved him so much.

And he loved her. She knew he did. He could be tender and considerate and loving, as well as wildly passionate. She was lucky that he intended to marry her. He’d been engaged twice before, but this time would be different. In three weeks they would say their vows and she would become Mrs. James Upton III. And if Jazzy Talbot didn’t stay away from her husband, she’d…what would she do? She’d kill her, that’s what she’d do.

No, no, Laura, you don’t mean that. You could never kill another human being. Not even Jazzy.

The eastern sky brightened as dawn colored the horizon with muted pastels. Laura could see the front drive from her window as well as the expansive front lawn. Quiet, empty, nothing more than the spring breeze stirring at this time of day.

You’re with her, aren’t you, Jamie? You spent the night with her. Touching her, kissing her, making love to her the same way you do me. No, no, no! It’s not the same. He loves me. He only wants to fuck her.

Tears gathered in Laura’s eyes. She swallowed hard and willed the tears away. It wasn’t too late to call off the wedding. But what good would that do? Jamie had already broken her heart. And she knew that without him, she’d die. He was everything to her. Her whole world. The only way she’d ever be free of him was if she died. Or if they both died.

“Where do you suppose that fiancé of yours went?” Sheridan asked as she approached the window seat.

Not realizing her sister was even awake, let alone out of bed, Laura gasped. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep either if my fiancé had left our engagement party before it ended and stayed out all night.” Sheridan sat down beside Laura and glanced out the window. “You do know what people were saying, don’t you?”

“I do not want to hear gossip!”

Laura wished her sister would leave her alone, but she knew Sheridan would needle her until she’d drawn blood. Figuratively drawn blood, of course. Sheridan had a knack for it, especially where Laura was concerned. Her sister seemed to derive some perverse pleasure from pointing out all of Laura’s shortcomings.

“You know, I wondered how you’d caught yourself such a prize,” Sheridan said. “Someone like Jamie. Someone in our social circle, very rich, handsome, charming. But I’m beginning to understand. Your fiancé has a major character flaw, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Please, God, make her leave me alone. I don’t want to despise my own sister, but sometimes…

Sheridan laughed. Laura hated the sound. She’d hated that mocking laughter since they’d been children and Sheridan had pointed out to Laura that “Mommy loves me best”. Maybe Mother did love Sheridan best. God knew sometimes it seemed that way. But Laura knew she was her father’s favorite, something Sheridan punished her for, even though it wasn’t her fault.

“I suppose it’s only fair that both you and your fiancé aren’t quite perfect.”

Laura forced herself to confront her sister. Their gazes met forcefully—and this time Laura didn’t blink, didn’t back down as she so often did. “I’ve never claimed to be perfect—”

“Good thing…considering.”

“Considering what? That I’m crazy?”

“You said it, I didn’t.”

“I’m not crazy. I’m not! I’m high-strung and nervous. I’m more emotionally sensitive than the average person. That’s all. Daddy said that I’m all right. Even the doctors said I’m okay.” Why did Sheridan have to keep reminding her about her past mental and emotional problems?

“Does Jamie know?” Sheridan asked. “Is he aware that his little bride-to-be could easily go completely berserk at any given moment?”

“What a cruel thing to say to me.”

“Maybe someone told him about you and he’s run away before—”

“He’s gone to her!” Laura cried out. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? You wanted me to admit that he left our engagement party to go to her.”

“Then you do know all about her, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know all about Jasmine Talbot.”

Sheridan smirked, the expression hardening her cute cheerleader brunette beauty. Her big brown eyes twinkled with delight. “If Jamie was my fiancé, he wouldn’t have to go to an old girlfriend for what he needed. I’d give it to him. I’d keep him so satisfied that he’d never even look at another woman.” Sheridan paused, smiled wickedly, and licked her lips. “Why he chose you instead of me, I’ll never know. Maybe he thought you were a virgin.” Sheridan chuckled softly. “Of course, he knows from firsthand experience that I’m not.”

The meaning of her sister’s taunt hit Laura full force. Before she realized what she was doing, she slapped Sheridan, who simply continued smiling as she rubbed her red cheek. Laura jumped up and ran toward the door, tears clouding her vision.

“Where are you going?” Sheridan called after her.

Laura paused after she opened the bedroom door. “Anywhere away from you.”

“Why don’t you drive into town? You might find Jamie still in bed with his old lover. Or have you already been to town? Is that where you disappeared to last night after the party ended?”

Laura walked out into the hall and headed toward the stairs. Maybe she could find sanctuary in Big Jim’s study. Surely Sheridan had tormented her enough and wouldn’t follow her. As she descended the spiral staircase, her sister’s last question played itself over in her head. Or have you already been to town? Is that where you disappeared to last night after the party ended?

What was Sheridan talking about? Laura had no memory of going anywhere after her engagement party ended. Why would she have driven into town alone? She wouldn’t have, would she? Don’t think about it. Just because you have no memory of the time between when you said good night to your parents and when you came to your room two hours later doesn’t mean you went to Cherokee Pointe to search for Jamie.

But what if she had followed him to Jazzy’s apartment? What if during those two missing hours she’d done something stupid? Something terrible? She’d been so hurt and angry when she realized Jamie had deserted her on their special night and embarrassed that most of the people attending the engagement party suspected he’d left her to go to Jazzy.

Just because years ago she lost several hours and had no memory of where she’d gone or what she’d done didn’t mean it had happened again. Just because she had done something bad that time didn’t mean she had this time. She wasn’t crazy!

But what if I am? a frightened little voice inside her asked.

Jazzy hadn’t slept a wink after Jamie finally left. He’d stayed two hours—an hour longer than she’d told him he could stay. And he’d tried his level best to convince her to let him spend the night in her bed. And truth be told, she’d been tempted. Maybe with Jamie, she always would be.

But a person could overcome temptation. Although being tempted posed a problem, it was giving in to that temptation that wreaked havoc in her life. She supposed she was addicted to Jamie, the way another person might be addicted to tobacco or booze or drugs. You knew it was bad for you, knew it could kill you, but you still craved it.

Although each time she turned Jamie away, it became just a little easier the next time, she knew in her soul that only death—his or hers—would ever free her completely. At this point in her life, she hated Jamie more than she’d ever loved him. And the perverse, sinister part of her wished him dead—but only in those darkest, most frightening moments when her instincts for survival overcame her common decency.

There was no point mooning around in her apartment, wearing out the rug in her living room. All the restless pacing in the world wouldn’t take her mind off her predicament. She had to find a way—short of murder—to keep Jamie out of her life. Permanently. She could have Jacob or Dallas issue a restraining order, but that would probably have an adverse effect. Jamie would see it as a sign of weakness on her part and pursue her all the more, even if it meant his being arrested. With Big Jim Upton’s money, Jamie could afford the best lawyers and unlimited bail money.

What she needed was to get out of the house, go down to Jasmine’s for breakfast, find as much work to do in the office this morning as possible. Jazzy showered hurriedly, then slung on jeans and a long-sleeved gold shirt. She grabbed a beige chenille sweater and her purse as she headed out the door. The air was crisp and chilly, the sky clear and bright. Already at six o’clock the little town was showing signs of activity. When she reached the bottom of the outside stairs that led from her upstairs apartment to the sidewalk that ran along the back of Jazzy’s Joint, she heard a horn honk. When she glanced up, she saw Dr. MacNair toss up his hand and wave at her. She waved back as he turned his SUV into a parking place in front of Jasmine’s, the restaurant she owned that was located beside her honky-tonk on the corner of Florence Avenue and Loden Street.

Now why couldn’t she fall for a nice guy like Galvin MacNair? She’d bet her last dollar that he’d been as faithful as an old dog to his wife before she up and left him for her former high school sweetheart a couple of months ago. Why was it that nice guys seemed to finish last, when assholes like Jamie came out on top time and again?

Poor Galvin. The whole town knew his personal business, knew his wife had left town, moved in with her former lover, and filed for divorce. Every motherly old woman in Cherokee County had made it her mission in life to console him and try to fix him up with their daughter or niece. So why didn’t she ask Galvin out? A new man in her life was just what she needed. But not Galvin. He just wasn’t her type. He was too damn nice. Too sweet.

“Morning, Jazzy,” Galvin said as he got out of his truck. “You’re out and about mighty early.”

“So are you,” she replied. “You don’t usually eat breakfast at Jasmine’s. What’s wrong, tired of hospital food?”

“I decided to eat out to celebrate.” When Jazzy eyed him speculatively, he explained. “Nina went to Reno for a quickie divorce. It seems she couldn’t wait.”

“Gee, Galvin, I don’t know what to say. Should I say congratulations or I’m sorry?”

He shrugged. “Neither, I guess.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Come on inside. Breakfast is on me.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, but not necessary.” He followed her into Jasmine’s.

When she saw Tiffany, one of her waitresses, she called out to her, “Dr. MacNair’s breakfast is on the house.”

“Sure thing.” Tiffany smiled warmly and showed the doctor to a table.

Maybe Tiffany and Dr. MacNair might make a good couple. Forget it, she told herself. Don’t try to play matchmaker. You need to find yourself a man, somebody who’ll take your mind off Jamie.

No sooner had the thought been processed than the door opened and Sheriff Butler entered the restaurant. Big, rugged Jacob. A six-five quarter breed who’d once been a Navy SEAL. Now there was a man for you. A real man, one hundred percent, through and through. She’d known Jacob all her life and loved him—like a brother. They’d tried dating back last year and found out after only a couple of months the reason they’d never dated before then. No sparks. Absolutely no sexual chemistry. She wouldn’t go as far as to say kissing him had been like kissing a brother, but they’d both figured out pretty quick that they were better off remaining good friends than risking their friendship by sleeping together.

“Good God, has hell frozen over?” Jacob asked teasingly in his deep baritone voice.

“Okay, so I recently said that hell would freeze over before I’d get up before seven, but there’s no need to be sarcastic so early in the morning.”

Jacob removed his Stetson and nodded toward a booth in the back. “Join me for breakfast?”

“Coffee, maybe.”

By the time they slid into opposite sides of the booth, Tiffany appeared with a coffeepot. After she poured their cups full and took Jacob’s breakfast order, she headed toward the kitchen.

“Want to tell me about it?” Jacob asked.

“About what?”

“I saw Jamie Upton’s Mercedes parked in front of Jazzy’s Joint in the middle of the night, after the place had closed.”

“So?”

“I thought you were finished with him.”

Jazzy forced a smile. “Why couldn’t you and I have fallen in love? It would have made my life so much simpler. And so much better.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but…did you let him spend the night?”

“You’re right—it’s none of your business. But no, he stayed two hours and left. I have no doubt that he found somebody to soothe his disappointment.”

“Maybe he went home to his fiancée. He is getting married in a few weeks, isn’t he?” Jacob lifted his cup to his lips.

“That’s what they say.”

After taking several swigs, he set the cup down. “Genny called me right before I left the house. I figure she’ll be getting in touch with you today.”

“Is something wrong?”

“She had a vision before daybreak this morning.”

A shudder rippled up Jazzy’s spine. “She hasn’t had a vision since…was it about—”

“It was about Jamie.”

“What?”

“She saw someone kill Jamie. She believes it’s a premonition.”

“Who—who did she see kill Jamie? Was it me?”

Jacob reached across the table and took Jazzy’s hand in his. “Are you planning on killing Jamie?”

She jerked her hand away. “No, of course not, but we both know I pulled a gun on him a few months ago. And we both know that, under the right circumstances, I might shoot him.”

“Talk to Genny. Let her do a reading. She doesn’t think you’ll kill Jamie, but she believes that his death will create trouble for you.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? All Jamie Upton has ever been to me is trouble. Apparently he’s trouble for me alive or dead.”

“Stay away from him,” Jacob advised. “And I’ll make sure he stays away from you. I’ll tell Caleb to keep an eye out for you and call me at the first sign of—”

“You think Genny’s premonition is going to come true, don’t you? And you’re afraid she might be wrong and I’ll be the one to kill Jamie.”

When she looked into Jacob’s moss green eyes, she saw the truth before he replied, “Better safe than sorry. No use taking any unnecessary risks.”

Chapter 2

Erin Mercer cursed softly under her breath as she headed for the front door of her cabin. What the hell was Jim’s grandson doing knocking on her door? She thought she had made it perfectly clear the last time he’d shown up—unannounced and unwelcome—that she wasn’t buying what he was selling. As far as she was concerned, he was a worrisome brat someone should have disciplined years ago. Before she reached for the doorknob, she paused long enough to fasten the top two buttons on her blouse. No use giving Jamie an excuse to accuse her of trying to look sexy for him. Stupid boy. As if she’d ever be interested in someone as self-centered and immature as he, even with his undeniable youth and good looks. Too many women had fallen for the flashy exterior before discovering the ugliness of the interior man. She’d known his type and, when she’d been younger and foolish, she’d given her heart to someone a great deal like Jamie Upton.

If any other man stood outside her door this morning, she would take the time to check her appearance in the mirror, maybe even dab on a little blush and lipstick. After all, even though she was fifty, she took pride in her appearance and knew most men considered her an attractive woman.

Erin opened the door halfway and glared at the handsome devil standing on her doorstep. “What do you want?” she asked, her tone surly. She’d learned the first time Jim’s grandson showed up at her cabin that he perceived any pleasantness on her part as an open invitation. Nothing would please him more than scoring with his grandfather’s mistress.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” As he placed his hand on the door frame, he leaned forward. “If you’d woke up with me beside you, you’d be in a much better mood.”

“It’s early. I’ve had only one cup of coffee. I’m not in the mood for your games. I repeat, what do you want?”

When he moved toward her, she instinctively eased backward, not wanting their bodies to touch. She didn’t trust this man, didn’t feel entirely safe around him. She wasn’t physically afraid of him, because she knew she could handle him, if it came to that. The fear she felt was more basic, a totally emotional response.

Once inside, Jamie headed straight for the living room. Erin huffed, resigned herself to enduring Jamie’s presence for the time being, and shut the door. When she entered her living room, she found him already lounging on her sofa, with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He looked as if he’d been out all night. His tux was wrinkled, his bow tie missing, and his shirt buttoned up wrong. A hint of brown stubble on his pretty boy face gave him a rakish appearance. And that’s what Jamie was all right—a rake. A bona fide, old-fashioned rake. Of course, calling him a rake was a compliment in comparison to the other appropriate names that came to mind.

“I’m getting myself another cup of coffee. Would you care for some?” she asked as she passed through the living room and started toward the kitchen.

“I’ll settle for coffee, but what I’d really like is some tea and sympathy. You know about that, don’t you, Erin? It’s when an older woman takes a younger man into her bed to comfort him.”

Erin paused, but didn’t bother looking back when she said, “My guess is that you’ve spent the night in someone’s bed getting plenty of sympathy or whatever the hell you want to call it. I suggest that if you need more, you return to the generous lady who so willingly gave it to you earlier.”

As she entered the kitchen, she heard him laughing. Damned obnoxious boy. Hurriedly she poured coffee into two mugs and returned to the living room. When she held out a mug for him, he patted the sofa.

“Sit with me.”

She eyed him skeptically and shook her head.

He accepted the coffee. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“No, but I might. I might take a chunk out of that big head of yours and bring it back down to a normal size.”

“You think I’m an egotistical bastard, don’t you?”

“If the shoe fits…”

Erin took a seat opposite him, with the massive square oak cocktail table between them. “I suppose you know you’ll have a great deal of explaining to do when you go home. The whole town is probably buzzing with gossip about your leaving your fiancée alone at your engagement party last night.”

“I stayed for hours. I spoke to everyone, accepted good wishes, presented myself as the dutiful fiancé. I didn’t leave until nearly eleven.”

“You left before half the guests did. How do you think that made your fiancée feel?”

“She knows I’m a cad…and loves me anyway.” Jamie brought the coffee mug to his lips. “Strong and black. Just the way I like it.”

“I feel sorry for Laura. She’s so young and so in love with you. She deserves better. What’s wrong with you, Jamie? Don’t you have any idea how lucky you are? You have grandparents who adore you, all the money you could ever need, and a woman who is devoted to you.”

“Laura’s not the woman I want.” He looked right at Erin, and for a split second she thought she saw genuine emotion in his hazel eyes. Sadness? Regret?

“Then why marry her? If she’s not—”

“It’s Jazzy,” Jamie said. “It’s always been Jazzy. It always will be.”

“Then break off your engagement to Laura and marry Jazzy.”

Jamie laughed, the sound hollow and emotionless. “You’re a good one to talk. You’re my grandfather’s mistress. You know he’ll never divorce Big Mama, yet you hang on to him anyway. Why don’t you demand that he leave his wife and marry you?”

His accusation hit a nerve. Erin winced. “You’re free. Jazzy’s free. There’s nothing to stop y’all from—”

“Big Mama would disown me if I married Jazzy. I’d have nothing. Not a dime to my name. I’d have to give up a fortune. I’m not willing to do that.”

“Then you don’t love Jazzy as much as you profess to love her.”

“What do you know about it? I love her. I’ve loved her since we were teenagers. And just because Big Mama is forcing me to marry Laura doesn’t mean I’m giving up Jazzy.”

“Did you spend the night with Jazzy?”

“I went by to see her.”

“And she turned you away.”

“You’re wrong. She didn’t…” With his mug surrounded by both hands, Jamie leaned forward and held it between his spread thighs. He glanced at Erin. “She didn’t let me stay, so I found a more willing lady, who shall remain nameless. After all, I don’t kiss and tell. You might want to remember that for future reference.”

“I don’t think so.”

Erin sipped on her coffee, finishing it off quickly. Why was Jamie really here? Why was he using her as a sounding board? As his mother confessor? It wasn’t as if they were friends. She didn’t even like him, and she wouldn’t give him the time of day if he wasn’t Jim’s grandson. Unless he was a complete fool—which he wasn’t—he had to know that she’d never have sex with him. Even if she wasn’t in love with Big Jim, she wouldn’t be crazy enough to become involved with Jamie. Any way you looked at it, he was bad news.

Jamie placed his cup on a coaster atop the cocktail table, then stood and went straight to Erin. Before she realized his intent, he dropped to his knees in front of her, grabbed her by the back of her neck and hauled her forward, just far enough to kiss her. He took her mouth demandingly. For a millisecond she froze, shocked by the unexpected assault. Then total awareness hit her. Her empty mug slipped out of her hand and hit the wooden floor with a splintering crash. She slipped her hand between their bodies and gave him a hard shove. He reeled backward and fell flat on his butt.

He looked up at her and grinned. “Now tell me that wasn’t better than what you get from the old man.”

“Your grandfather is twice the man you are—in every way. Now, get your sorry ass up off my floor and leave. I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing with me this morning, but I’m not interested. If I thought for one minute that I could help you…for Jim’s sake, I would. But I think you’re beyond help.”

Jamie jumped to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. “Walk me to the door, darlin’.”

“You know the way out.”

“How about a good-bye kiss?”

“How about getting the hell out of my sight?”

“Now, sweet thing, don’t be that way.”

“Leave. Now!”

He winked at her, then sauntered out of the living room. She followed him and stood several feet away as he opened the front door. Before he left, he turned to her and said, “I’m going to accidently mention to my grandfather that I was with you this morning, sharing coffee, kissing…”

“You bastard!”

“I’d like to be able to tell the old son of a bitch that I’d screwed you, but I can imply as much and he might believe me. After all, if he asks you if I was here this morning, you won’t lie to him, will you?”

Whistling as he walked toward his Mercedes, Jamie acted like a man who didn’t have a care in the world, as if there weren’t dozens of women who’d like to put a stake through his black heart. After getting inside the car, he lowered the window and blew Erin a kiss. As he backed out of the drive, she heard him laughing.

She should probably call Jim and tell him what had happened. Forewarn him. She wouldn’t even bother if it wasn’t for the fact that because of the difference in their ages, Jim wasn’t as confident about their relationship as she was. God damn it, she hated to relay this incident to Jim, knowing how upset he’d be with Jamie. The boy, who should have been Jim’s pride and joy, was an utter disappointment to him. A part of Erin wished she was still young enough to give Jim a child, even if at seventy-five he might not live to see the child grow up. But she was past the age of motherhood and Jim would probably laugh at the notion. Too bad he didn’t have other grandchildren, at least one worthy of a man like Big Jim Upton.

For about the hundredth time since she left Chattanooga at daybreak that morning, Reve Sorrell asked herself why the hell she was doing this. Why did she feel compelled to come to Cherokee Pointe in search of a woman she’d never met? It wasn’t as if she needed any more relatives. Since her mother died this past summer, cousins by the dozens had come out of the woodwork, all with an interest in the vast Sorrell fortune she’d inherited. One rather ungentlemanly cousin of her father’s had actually had the balls to sue her, on the grounds that she was only Spencer and Lesley Sorrell’s adopted child. The case had never gotten off the ground, since Reve’s lawyer had convinced her cousin’s lawyer that they’d be laughed out of court.

As she drove slowly along Main Street, she searched the faces of the citizens scurrying to and fro in the small downtown area. She had grown up in Chattanooga, a mid-size city, with just the right amount of hustle and bustle not to have remained a sleepy Southern town and yet not so large as to have lost its old-fashioned charm. She still lived in her parents’ home on Lookout Mountain, in an old and prestigious neighborhood. Although not the Sorrells’ biological child, she’d still been raised with their beliefs, traditions, and social snobbery. She was, in all but blood, a true Sorrell. And there wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t thank God for her good fortune.

As an infant of only weeks, she’d been blessed the day she was placed with the Sorrells. Her parents hadn’t told her she was adopted until she was six, and in the telling, they’d made her feel very special and greatly loved. When at fourteen she’d asked them a lot of questions about her true parentage, they swore they knew nothing about her birth parents. It wasn’t until she’d been awarded her bachelor’s degree from UT that her then widowed mother told her she’d been found in a Dumpster in Sevierville, thrown away like trash when she was little more than a newborn.

It wasn’t as if she had come to Cherokee Pointe today on a whim or that she’d simply taken Jamie Upton’s word that she had a look-alike in this small mountain town. She’d met Jamie at a Christmas party late last year when he’d been visiting friends in Chattanooga. He’d done his best to charm her, and he had almost succeeded. She’d found the man utterly irresistible.

But once she’d discovered that he’d been fascinated by her because she resembled his teenage sweetheart, her common sense kicked into play. And if there was one thing Reve Sorrell was known for, it was her common sense. Never a playgirl, always a serious student as well as an obedient daughter and a lady who had been accused by many men of being an ice queen, Reve prided herself on not allowing emotions to rule her. She was an admitted control freak. Of course, knowing Jamie Upton for the charming scoundrel he was didn’t mean she might not look him up while she was in the area. After all, hadn’t he invited her to come for a visit and stay with his family on their estate outside town?

“I know a girl who could be your twin,” Jamie had told her. “You should come to Cherokee Pointe and meet Jasmine. She’d get a kick of meeting her look-alike.”

Reve had hired a private investigation agency to compile a report on Jasmine Talbot. She and the woman were the same age, although their birthdays were almost a week apart; but then her parents hadn’t known her exact birth date. And Jazzy, as her friends called her, had been raised by an aunt, an old woman known as the town kook.

Would a mother have given her sister one child and thrown the other into the garbage? Somehow it didn’t seem likely. The private detective had included a dozen photographs of Jasmine Talbot when he’d handed in his report, and Reve had to admit that there was a striking resemblance between the two of them. Enough so that they could easily be sisters, perhaps even twins. She had put off meeting the woman face-to-face, unsure how she would react when she met Jazzy. If they were sisters, would she feel an instant bond, an immediate familial connection?

Reve parked half a block down from Jasmine’s, got out of the Jag, locked it securely, and stepped up on the sidewalk. The air was crisp, fresh and cool, springtime morning cool. She checked her watch. Eight-fifteen. Still early enough to order breakfast at the restaurant. Just go inside, she told herself. Order breakfast and see how the people who work for Jasmine react to you. If they don’t go running to her with news that they’ve seen her twin and she doesn’t come out to see for herself, then you’ll have to ask to speak with her.

When she arrived at the entrance to the restaurant, she paused, took a deep breath, then stiffened her spine and reached for the door handle. A large masculine hand shot out around her and grabbed the handle. Startled by the unexpected move, she gasped and glanced over her shoulder. A tall, lanky man with overly long brown hair and sexy golden eyes smiled at her. Her stomach did an involuntary flip-flop when he stared at her as if he wanted to kiss her. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a long line of eligible men knocking on her door. She did. But every single one of them knew she was a multimillionaire. This man didn’t know her, had no idea she was the heir to the Sorrell fortune. And he acted as if he was instantly interested in her.

His smile wavered. He shook his head. “Lady, has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a twin?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Different hair style and your color is darker. More auburn. And your eyes are brown, not green, but then I’m pretty sure she wears colored contacts.” He surveyed her from head to toe. “You’re a few pounds heavier, maybe an inch taller. And your clothes are classier. But I’ll be damned if you don’t look enough like her to be—”

“And just who are you?” Reve asked, her tone deliberately stern.

“Sorry.” He stepped back as she turned to face him. “I’m Caleb McCord.” He held out his hand.

“Mr. McCord.” She shook hands with him. “I’m Reve Sorrell. Does that name mean anything to you?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Should it?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Does the name Jasmine Talbot mean anything to you?” he asked. “You wouldn’t by any chance be a relative I don’t know about, would you?”

“Do you know Ms. Talbot well?”

“Well enough to know she doesn’t have a sister, at least not one she knows anything about.”

“That certainly makes two of us. As far as I know, I don’t have a sister. But a resident of Cherokee County I met at a party a few months ago mentioned I had a look-alike here in Cherokee Pointe, and since I was in the area anyway…well, I remembered his comments and I’m curious enough to want to meet her.”

“And who would that be—the person who told you that you looked like Jazzy?”

“Jamie Upton. Do you know him?”

A dark frown erased all warmth from Caleb McCord’s ruggedly handsome face. “So you’re one of Jamie’s women, huh? Something else you and Jazzy have in common.”

“I take it that you don’t especially like Jamie.”

“Hate the guy’s guts.”

“Because?”

“Because being a man instead of a woman, I have the good fortune to see the son of a bitch for what he is.”

“Which is?”

“He’s a sorry, good-for-nothing louse whose hobby is breaking hearts and destroying lives.”

Apparently this man cared for Jasmine Talbot and resented Jamie’s connection to the lady. “You’re jealous because Jasmine was his teenage sweetheart and she still loves him.”

Caleb chuckled. “The guy did a number on you, too, didn’t he? Is that the real reason you’re in town? Jamie romanced you, screwed you, then left you to come back to Jazzy. And you’re here in town to see what Jazzy’s got that you don’t have?”

“Mr. McCord, you have a very vivid imagination. Jamie didn’t use and abuse me, although he would have if I’d given him a chance. I’m here strictly out of curiosity. I want to meet Jasmine Talbot.”

“Then come right on in with me and I’ll introduce you to her.” Caleb held open the door, then followed Reve into the restaurant.

The hostess, whose name tag read Tiffany, rushed forward, then stopped dead in her tracks. Her pink lips formed an oval as she gasped in surprise when she looked at Reve.

“We want a booth,” Caleb said. “Two cups of coffee. Black?” he asked Reve.

“Cream, no sugar,” she replied.

“And ask Jazzy to join us. Tell her I’ve got a little surprise for her.”

“I’ll say you do. Who is she?” Tiffany looked at Reve. “I mean, who are you, ma’am? I can’t get over how much you look like Jazzy.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“Second booth on the left, by the windows,” Tiffany said. “I’ll tell Jazzy and then get the coffee.”

As they headed for the booth, several heads turned and more than one set of eyes stared unabashedly at Reve as she walked by. All of a sudden she wasn’t so sure coming here like this had been such a good idea. Maybe she should have called Jasmine Talbot first and asked her a few questions. Maybe she should have telephoned Jamie and asked him to set up a meeting between her and her so-called twin.

By the time they sat down and Reve began to relax, whispers and murmurs surrounded them. Tiffany came rushing back to their booth, a coffeepot in hand. She flipped over the cups already on the table and poured the steaming brew, then reached in her apron and produced several small containers of half-and-half, which she placed by Reve’s cup.

“Jazzy will be right out. She’s just finishing up breakfast in her office with her aunt Sally and Ludie. Ludie brought in some pies she’d baked yesterday, so we’d have them for today’s lunch crowd.”

“Did you mention that I had a lady with me who just happens to be Jazzy’s spitting image?” Caleb asked.

“I just told her that you wanted her to come out and meet a lady you had with you and that she was in for quite a surprise when she saw the lady.”

No sooner had Tiffany walked away than Caleb stood up beside the booth, an odd grin on his face. Reve turned just enough to glance over her shoulder. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. The woman walking toward them wore skintight jeans, a bright yellow T-shirt that accentuated her large breasts, and sported a short, flyaway haircut that proclaimed her stylish and hip. Jasmine Talbot was strikingly attractive. And very sexy. Two things Reve Sorrell wasn’t. But the body was similar to hers, although hers was well camouflaged beneath classically tailored pinstriped black slacks, a black blazer, and a white shirt. And the woman’s every feature was a perfect match to Reve’s. Same forehead, eyes, nose, mouth, ears, long neck, cheekbones, chin.

A cold fear encompassed Reve as Jazzy drew near. There was no way someone could look that much like another person without them being related. That meant this woman could very well be her sister, maybe her twin sister.

Jazzy stopped several feet away as Reve turned around fully and their gazes locked. She noted the same shock, the same uncertainty, and the same unanswered questions in Jasmine Talbot’s eyes that plagued her. Green eyes, not brown, she noted. But what had McCord said? Something about Jazzy wearing contacts.

Caleb walked over to Jazzy and urged her into motion. “Come on over and meet another one of Jamie’s lady friends. It seems you two have even more in common than just being Jamie Upton’s type.”

“What is this?” Jazzy asked as she came within a foot of Reve and glared at her. “Who are you?”

“Reve Sorrell.”

Jazzy looked at Caleb. “How do you know this woman?”

“I just met her outside a few minutes ago. She mentioned that Jamie had suggested she come to Cherokee Pointe and meet you. It would seem that Jamie found an almost perfect substitute for you.”

While Caleb watched Jazzy speculatively, Reve picked up on a wild, angry tension smoldering inside him. God, what had she gotten herself into?

“Look,” Reve said, “the reason I’m here really has nothing to do with Jamie, it’s just that—”

“Why don’t you tell the lady that Jamie no longer needs a substitute,” Caleb said, “that as of last night, he’s got the original back in his bed?”

Jazzy glowered at Caleb. Her cheeks flushed. “What were you doing, standing outside my apartment, watching me in the middle of the night?”

Jazzy glanced around, apparently checking to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. Since all eyes were focused on the three of them, it was obvious that anyone within hearing distance was privy to what was being said. Reve knew for sure and certain she had inadvertently walked into the middle of what seemed to be a lover’s triangle: Caleb McCord, Jazzy Talbot, and Jamie Upton.

“I just happened to notice Upton’s Mercedes at your place last night when I left work. I helped Lacy close up the place after you left,” Caleb replied. “I don’t give a shit who you screw, but from now on, don’t pretend you want him out of your life. You’ve wasted my time and energy by getting me to throw him out of Jazzy’s Joint time and again, when apparently all you were doing was titillating him, making him want you all the more. You know what that makes you in my book?”

Jazzy slapped Caleb McCord. Right there in the middle of the restaurant. Reve gasped, shocked by the woman’s actions. A lady never reacted in such a coarse, crude manner. Certainly never in public. But then, from all accounts, Jazzy Talbot was no lady.

Being involved, even as a bystander, to this sort of crude behavior was not what she’d bargained for when she decided to make this trip. Get the hell out of here now, she told herself. Go home to Chattanooga and forget there’s a woman here in Cherokee Pointe who might be your twin. You don’t want to be related to a woman like Jazzy Talbot.

While the attentive clientele absorbed the scene between Jazzy and Caleb, Reve picked up her purse from the booth, then turned and all but ran from the restaurant. Before she reached the door, she heard a man’s voice calling her name, but she didn’t slow down, didn’t look back to see who it was.

Just as she got outside and took a deep breath, a familiar hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Don’t run off,” Caleb said.

Reve swallowed, then turned to face him. “Please, leave me alone.”

“I apologize for what happened back there. Jazzy and I tend to ignite sparks off each other. And I did deserve that slap she gave me. Come on back and—”

“No, thank you. I’ve seen quite enough of Jasmine Talbot.”

“Don’t judge Jazzy by what happened in there. If you’d give yourself a chance to get to know her, you’d like her. She’s all right, you know. Her only problem is that she’s addicted to Jamie Upton. And I suspect you might have that same addiction.”

“I assure you, Mr. McCord, I do not.”

Caleb laced Reve’s arm through his. “If that’s true, then maybe I’ve been trying to score points with the wrong redhead.”

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