Читать книгу Beg To Die - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 7

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.”