“Talk. Alone,” Jazzy said to Reve.
“You heard the lady.” Caleb began ushering everyone out into the hall. “The sisters want a few minutes alone before Jazzy and I have to leave.”
After everyone had exited Jazzy’s room and Caleb had closed the door, Jazzy looked up from her wheelchair to where Reve stood at her side. “You and Jacob?”
“We’ve already had this discussion,” Reve said, recalling how she’d poured her heart and soul out to her sister several days ago.
Jazzy shook her head. “Stubborn.”
“Me?” Reve pointed to herself.
Jazzy smiled. “You. Jacob, too.”
“How am I being stubborn?”
“Tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“Love him. Yes?”
“Yes, I love him, the big dope. But apparently he doesn’t love me. If he did, he wouldn’t be acting—”
“Tell him. Love him.”
“You think I should tell him I love him?”
“Yes.”
“And what if I just wind up making a fool of myself?”
Jazzy laughed.
Reve leaned down and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Stop worrying about me and Jacob. You go to Nashville and get well. I’ll drive up often to visit. And in the meantime, if you’ll promise not to worry about me, I’ll take your advice and make sure Jacob Butler knows that I love him.”
“Good. Tell him. Soon.”
“I will. I promise.”
That night at Jazzy’s Joint, while she tried to get some paperwork done, all she could think about was Jacob and her promise to her sister. Why don’t you call him and ask him to come over? Or better yet, you know where he lives. Go to him. And don’t put it off. Do it tonight. If he rejects you, you’ll find a way to deal with it. But at least you’ll know where you stand.
“Reve, come on out to the bar right now.” Lacy Fallon stood in the open office doorway.
“What’s wrong?”
“Jacob just walked in and guess who jumped him the minute he came through the door—Mindy Harper.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Reve jumped up and came flying around the desk. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to go out there and tell her to keep her hands off my man.”
“You are? Hot damn!” Lacy followed Reve out of the office and down the hall.
After they reached the bar, Reve stopped and surveyed the joint. When she saw Jacob on the dance floor with Mindy Harper, she growled.
“If I’d known you were going to forget you were a lady tonight, I’d have brought my video camera,” Lacy said. “After all, you and Jacob might like to have this on tape to show your kids someday.”
“That’s okay,” Reve said. “I’m sure every minute of this night will be recorded in my memory and in Jacob’s.”
Reve marched out onto the dance floor and straight up to Jacob and Mindy. She tapped on Mindy’s shoulder and said, “I’m cutting in.”
Jacob halted and stared at Reve. Mindy whirled around and said, “The hell you are.”
“Look, sister, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.” Reve planted her hands on her hips. “Take your damn hands off my man and do it right now.”
“And if I don’t?” Mindy glared up at Reve, who was several inches taller and outweighed her by more pounds than Reve wanted to admit.
“Take a good look at me. I’m twice your size and I’m mad as hell. You want to tangle with me, then bring it on.” Reve motioned to Mindy.
Mindy stared at Reve for a couple of minutes, then turned back to Jacob. “Is she right—do you belong to her?”
Jacob shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Huffing loudly, Mindy turned and pranced off toward the bar.
When Reve thought for sure Jacob would welcome her with open arms, he turned and walked away. She stood there on the dance floor, surrounded by couples as the song on the jukebox ended. Before she had a chance to feel like a total fool, she realized Jacob was punching in a number on the juke box. She waited, holding her breath and praying. Then the uniquely beautiful voice of Pasty Cline filled Jazzy’s Joint. Reve’s heart went wild. Butterflies fluttered maddeningly in her stomach. He came toward her, slowly, taking his time. And suddenly the whole world exploded in a frenzy of happiness as he took her in his arms. They moved languidly to the rhythm of the old country ballad, “He Called Me Baby.”
“You kind of staked your claim tonight, didn’t you?” Jacob whispered in her ear.
“I guess I did.”
“I guess I was wrong when I figured you wanted me to give you some space because you were having second thoughts about us.”
“You were wrong,” she told him. “And just so there’s no more misunderstandings—” She stopped, reached up and cupped his face between her hands. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you like crazy, you big country hick Cochise wannabe, and I want to marry you and have your babies and spend the rest of my life in your arms.”
“Ah, baby, baby…”
“Let’s get out of here.” She took his hand in hers. “Take me upstairs and call me baby, baby, all night long.”
He tugged on her hand, yanked her back and into his arms, then leaned down until his lips touched hers. “I’m crazy in love with you, too, Miss High and Mighty.”
And then he kissed her. A loud, joyous roar nearly lifted the roof off Jazzy’s Joint when the other patrons cheered Jazzy’s sister and the man she’d laid claim to tonight.
EPILOGUE
Jazzy Talbot walked down the aisle at the Congregationalist church on the first Saturday evening in December, a little over a year after being brutally attacked by Veda MacKinnon. In the year that had passed, Veda had committed suicide at the state mental institution where she’d been committed, and the FBI and state and local authorities had closed the books on the Redhead Killer’s case, burying the past with Brian MacKinnon. And Farlan MacKinnon had spent the past year trying his best to make amends to his twin daughters. Although the three of them had a ways to go yet, the fact that Farlan was walking his daughter down the aisle tonight made a statement to everyone in attendance. Half the county had been invited to the biggest, most elaborate wedding ceremony in the history of Cherokee Pointe, paid for by the bride’s father.
Reve stood beside Genny, the two of them acting as Jazzy’s matrons of honor. And on the other side of the minister, Jacob stood beside Dallas, the two of them serving as Caleb’s best man. Reve glanced at her beautiful sister as she entered the sanctuary and thanked God that nine months of physical therapy had restored Jazzy to her former good health. Jazzy and Caleb had returned to Cherokee Pointe four months ago, and Miss Reba had immediately begun planning what she called an unforgettable wedding. It had been nothing short of amazing to see Reba Upton happily working with Jazzy to make sure every detail of Jazzy’s wedding would be perfect. Perhaps the fact that she was a new bride herself made Miss Reba so genuinely caring. This past summer, Big Jim and she had flown to Reno and acquired a quick divorce, dissolving their long and unhappy union. Miss Reba had flown home and straight into Dodd Keefer’s waiting arms, and the two were married in a quiet, private ceremony only two months ago. But Big Jim hadn’t waited even one day before marrying his long-time mistress, Erin Mercer, in a Las Vegas chapel, before they spent their honeymoon in one of the most expensive suites in Sin City.
As Reve glanced at family and friends seated in the first few rows, she smiled at Sally Talbot and Ludie, both decked out in floor-length gowns, with hairdos compliments of a local beauty salon. Lacy Fallon had her hands full keeping Madoc Sloan pacified because Genny and Dallas’s squirming, six-month-old, blond-haired baby boy had his big brown eyes wide open and was taking in the evening’s big event.
When Farlan paused before the altar, he leaned down and kissed Jazzy’s cheek, then glanced over and smiled at Reve. She returned her father’s smile, knowing that he was remembering walking her down the aisle this past June, on the day she beca
me Jacob’s wife.
As the ceremony began, Reve’s gaze connected with her husband’s, the man she loved with all her heart, the man who made her happy on a daily basis. Instinctively, her hand rested on her rounded belly in a motherly, protective gesture. Only this past week, she’d gotten her first sonogram. Jacob had been at her side, holding her hand, when they saw their daughter for the first time. In approximately four months, little Miss Dinah Butler would make her debut. And unless she missed her guess, Reve figured this old world would never be the same again.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek at
Beverly Barton’s next romantic suspense thriller
KILLING HER SOFTLY
coming in September 2005.
PROLOGUE
Lulu Vanderley was rich, blond and beautiful. Women envied her. Men wanted her. She had it all. Everything. Except…There was one thing she wanted that could never truly be hers. Quinn Cortez. And knowing she couldn’t have him made her want him all the more.
They’d been lovers for several months, ever since they’d met through mutual acquaintances in Vail months ago. In the beginning, a hot affair had been enough for both of them. He’d made it clear from their very first date that he was a no-strings-attached kind of guy. And she’d been well aware of his love ’em and leave ’em reputation. But that was before she fell in love with the gorgeous hunk, before she’d decided that she wanted to become Mrs. Quinn Cortez. And as a general rule, Lulu got what Lulu wanted.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror and smiled devilishly. No man had ever been able to resist her. And that was one reason she and Quinn were perfect for each other. They were two peas in a pod—a couple of gorgeous, irresistible philanderers.
Tonight she would spring the trap, the age-old trap that had caught many a poor fool. Quinn wasn’t invulnerable. He was as susceptible as any man to feminine wiles and little white lies. She’d weep and swear she didn’t know how it could have happened. She’d told him the first time they had sex that she’d been on the pill for years, and since he’d also used a condom every time, convincing him she was pregnant might not be easy. But all he had to do was talk to her doctor. Lulu was definitely six weeks along.
Running her hands over her tall, slender body, from waist to narrow hips, she studied her image. Her beauty had always gotten her whatever her family’s wealth couldn’t buy. But neither could give her what she wanted most.
Quinn might be a womanizer, but he wasn’t a heartless cad. If he believed she was carrying his child, then there was a good chance he’d do the honorable thing and marry her.
And if he doesn’t, what will you do?
She’d get an abortion, of course. No way in hell did she want to get tied down with a squalling baby unless the little brat served some purpose.
The mantel clock struck the hour, reminding her that Quinn would be arriving soon. Her stomach tightened. Lulu laughed. It wasn’t like her to be nervous.
Everything was ready. A bottle of champagne was chilling. A second bottle. She’d already drunk three glasses from the first bottle in an effort to steel her nerves and lull herself into a tranquil haze. Not good for the baby, she supposed, but what the hell. The silk bed linens were turned down, soft music was playing and she was wearing her most alluring sheer black teddy.
Quinn had just won another high profile case, this time involving country singer Terry McBryar. The Nashville jury had come back with a not guilty verdict in the case against McBryar, who had been accused of murdering his manager. Of course, this victory was only one in a long line for Quinn Cortez, who was one of the most highly acclaimed trial lawyers in the United States.
The fact that Quinn had a reputation for being ruthless excited Lulu. She’d always been fascinated by bad boys.
When she had telephoned him earlier today to congratulate him on his big win, she’d heard reluctance in his voice the minute she invited him to drive over to Memphis this evening so they could celebrate together. But in the end, she had persuaded him. Telling him that she’d be waiting in her bedroom, wearing only a teddy, and eager to suck his dick had given him all the incentive he needed.
“I can get there by eight,” he’d told her. “Is your extra house key in the usual place?”
“Right where it always is,” she’d said. “Just let yourself in. I’ll be waiting.”
Thinking about the night ahead, Lulu shivered with excitement. She’d had dozens of lovers, but none compared to Quinn. The guy was a real stud, in every sense of the word. She’d give him a blow job, and then they’d drink champagne and cuddle by the fireplace here in her bedroom. After he was relaxed and mellow, she’d spring her big surprise.
Guess what, Quinn; you’re going to be a daddy.
Laughing, pleased with her almost foolproof plan to trap her man, Lulu twirled around the room.
She heard a noise. Someone had just opened the front door. Her heartbeat accelerated. Quinn was here. He’d arrived early. He must have broken every speed limit between Nashville and Memphis. That had to mean he was eager to see her.
Hurriedly she turned off all the lights and lit the candles she had arranged on top of the sleek, modern cherry dresser. Only the candlelight and the glow from the flickering blaze in the fireplace illuminated the room. The right ambience was so important.
“Quinn? Darling, I’m back here waiting for you.”
His footsteps tapped quietly over the hardwood floors in the foyer and down the hall.
“You got here early, didn’t you?” She licked her lips.
Why wasn’t he answering her?
She scratched her long fingernails over her nipples, hardening them instantly. “Come on back here, big boy. I’ve got just what you need.”
She stood by the fireplace, primed and ready, eager for what lay ahead. When she saw him standing in the doorway, her heart caught in her throat. She did love this man, loved him to distraction. He stood there in the shadows, a tall, dark silhouette. Broad shouldered, lean hipped. Six-one. And every inch a man.
She held open her arms. “Come to Mama. Let me take good care of you.”
He took several steps toward her. His blue-black hair glistened in the firelight. God, he was handsome. Ruggedly handsome in that exotic way only men of mixed heritages were. Quinn was a delicious mixture of Mexican and Irish.
As he neared her, she thought how incredibly young and sexy he looked tonight. Apparently even men looked better by candlelight. At forty, he possessed a body any twenty-year-old would envy. And she knew from personal experience that he had the stamina of a man half his age.
“Hello, Lulu,” he said and she thought there was an odd tone to his voice. He didn’t sound quite like himself.
She took a tentative step toward him, closing the gap between them. When she looked up into his piercing black eyes, she gasped. “Quinn?”
“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked. “Another lover?”
“No, I wasn’t expecting anyone else.” She felt a sudden sense of unease. What was wrong with him? He was acting so strangely.
Maybe the problem wasn’t with him. After all, she had drunk three glasses of champagne. Perhaps she was picking up on strange vibes where there were none.
He reached out and grasped her shoulders. She quivered.
“What’s wrong? You’re shivering,” he said.
She stared directly at him, studying his tense features, as his big hands bit painfully into her shoulders. Oh, God, how could this be? She didn’t understand what was going on.
“You’re acting as if you’re afraid of me.”
“I—I am.” She tried to pull away, but he held her in his strong grip. “Let go of me.” When she struggled against him, he pushed her backward, his dark eyes boring into her with unadulterated hatred. “I don’t understand…what…how…”
She felt addled, her thoughts fuzzy, her mind playing tricks on her.
As he shoved her backward, she somehow managed to escape his tenaci
ous grasp. She had to get away from him before he hurt her, and her gut instincts warned her that he was definitely dangerous. She turned and ran, intending to lock herself in the bathroom and use the telephone in there to call for help. But before she reached the bathroom door, he caught her by the wrist, whirled her around and flipped her over and onto the bed.
The satin sheets felt cold and clammy against her bare arms and legs. The menacing shadow hovered over her. Shock waves jangled her nerves. Why hadn’t she realized sooner that something wasn’t quite right?
Because you drank too much champagne.
He came down over her, bracing his knees on either side of her hips, trapping her beneath him. She opened her mouth in a silent scream, her voice paralyzed by fear.
Don’t panic. Maybe he just wants to play rough. Maybe he isn’t going to hurt you.
“You’re a fool, Lulu,” he said in that strange, unfamiliar tone of voice. “And I don’t suffer fools gladly.”
“What—what are you talking about? Please—”
“Do you know what I do to foolish women?”
He reached over and picked up one of the king-size pillows from the head of the bed. She tried to shove him off her, but without success. He was too big, too strong. He lifted his knee and pressed it against her belly, effectively holding her in place and enabling him to use both hands to maneuver the pillow.
“I kill foolish women,” he told her. “I kill them softly…tenderly…and put them out of their misery.”
“No!” She managed to scream once before he covered her face with the huge pillow. Oh, God, he really was going to kill her. Smother her.
Help me, please, dear God, help me.
She wriggled and squirmed, thrashing her head about, seeking air, but he kept the pillow securely in place. With what little strength she had left, she grasped his wrists, but the effort proved useless. He pressed the pillow down and held it tightly. Within seconds her hands loosened. Her arms dropped languidly to either side of her still body. Her chest ached. Swirling gray circles appeared in the blackness behind her closed eyelids.
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