"Where?"
"Not here in Cherokee Pointe, if that's what you're thinking. I was found in Sevierville." No need to tell him exactly where. Sharing the information that she'd been placed in a Dumpster, disposed of like unwanted rubbish, wasn't something she'd willingly tell anyone, least of all Sheriff Jacob Butler.
"So why leave town without talking to Jazzy again?"
"Because after meeting her briefly, I realized I'd made a mistake coming here. We're obviously not sisters. And if we're cousins or something, it really doesn't matter. I mean, she and I have nothing in common, so there's no reason we'd want to become better acquainted."
"You're a first-class, blue-blood snob. "Jacob glared at her with those hypnotic green eyes. 'You think you're too good for the likes of Jazzy Talbot, don't you? Well, lady, the way I see it, it's definitely the other way around- she's twice the woman you are. There's not a selfish, cruel, or unkind bone in her body. You're as different as night and day. And you're right, there's no way on earth the two of you could be sisters. So it's a good tiling for Jazzy's sake that you don't have the guts to stick around and find out for sure."
Reve grabbed the handle and opened the door. Butler clutched her arm.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked.
"I've changed my mind." She'd had a knee-jerk reaction to Butler's goading. This man didn't know her, couldn't have possibly realized that by daring her to stay and unearth the truth about her relationship with Jazzy, he had hit her weak spot. She'd been susceptible to dares ever since she'd been a kid. Tell her she couldn't do something, and she'd do it or die trying. "I'm not leaving Cherokee Pointe. At least not today. I'm going to check into the nearest hotel and-"
"Motels and cabins," Butler said.
"What?"
"Close the damn door before you get the interior of my truck soaked. I'll drive you over to Cherokee Cabin Rentals and drop you off. We don't have a hotel anywhere in Cherokee County, just motels and cabins for rent"
Reve closed the door. The right side of her body was dripping wet from the blowing rain. "Yes, a cabin will be fine, thank you. Something close to town so I can walk wherever I need to go. And sheriff, once you drop me off, let's make a point of never seeing each other again."
"Suits me fine," he said. "Only problem is that this is a small town, and we're bound to run into each other if you stay here for a while."
"Then let's try to avoid each other, and if by chance we see each other, let's pretend we didn't."
"For once, Ms. Sorrell, you and I are in total agreement."
Sally sat on the front porch of her small home up in the mountains. Peter and Paul, her bloodhounds, slept peacefully out in the yard, the afternoon sunshine warming their big red bodies. She spit a spray of brown juice off the side of the porch. Ludie had asked her a hundred questions after their talk with Reve Sorrell. Some she couldn't answer because she didn't know. She didn't know mere had been another baby. How could she have known?
Hell, Sally old girl, you don't know for sure that this Sorrell woman is Jazzy's sister. Could be just a coincidence that they look so much alike. Yeah, sure, and God didn't make little green apples. She chuckled nervously. Of course, after all this time what difference did it make? Jazzy was a grown woman; she'd soon be thirty years old. Couldn't nobody take that gal away from her. They were bound together by love, by years of being the only family they each had. There wasn't nothing she wouldn't do for her Jasmine, the child of her heart, if not of her body. She'd die to protect Jazzy. She'd even kill to protect her.
But if Jazzy ever learned the truth, what would she think? How would she react? Well, since you don't know the truth-the whole truth-then it's unlikely Jazzy or anybody eke ever will, either. The truth didn't matter. Whatever the whole truth was, it should stay buried in the past, along with all the lies Sally had told so nobody would try to take Jazzy away from her.
But what about Reve Sorrell? She ain't the type to let sleeping dogs lie, Sally thought. Nope, that gal seemed like the type who just might stir up trouble, in her own very cultured, highfalutin way. What if she's determined to find out why she and Jazzy look so much alike? What if she starts asking questions, digging into the past? What if she puts doubts into Jazzy's head?
What you gonna do then, Sally, ole girl? What you gonna do then?
* * *
Chapter 6
Jazzy saw them as they entered the restaurant. Jamie, his fiancée, and an older couple she assumed were the bride-to-be's parents-Mr. and Mrs. Willis, the wealthy horse breeders from Kentucky. For a split second, Jazzy froze to the spot. She glanced around, searching for a waitress who could take over her hostess duties immediately, but no one was close enough to summon before the party of four approached her. She had wanted to make her escape, but found it was too late.
"Good evening," the slender, distinguished gendeman with silvery gray hair and neatly trimmed beard said. "We'd like your best table for four, please. I telephoned earlier and was told reservations weren't necessary."
Doing her best to avoid making eye contact with Jamie, Jazzy replied, "That's right. We don't take reservations here at Jasmine's." She could feel Jamie's heated stare, knew he was watching her, and wondered if Laura noticed. Hazarding a quick sidelong glance at Jamie's fiancée, she found herself looking direcdy into the woman's speculative blue eyes. Their gazes collided, and Jazzy understood that this pretty, delicate girl was silently pleading with her. Jazzy could almost hear Laura saying, "Please let him go. If you don't want him and I do."
With her nose tided upward, perfecting a haughty expression, Mrs. Willis inspected her surroundings. This is a rather quaint little place. I do hope we can find something palatable on the menu." She skewered Jazzy with a sharp glare. "Everything isn't fried, is it? I detest fried food. Perhaps we should speak to the owner about having the chef prepare something that isn't fried."
"I'm the owner." Jazzy focused on Mrs. Willis. "Let me assure you that we have a wide variety on our menu, including broiled, boiled, baked, and grilled items."
"Well, that's a relief, isn't it, my dear?" Mr. Willis surveyed Jazzy from head to toe and smiled condescendingly. "So you're Jasmine." He paused for effect. "The proprietress."
Jazzy snapped her fingers at Tiffany who had just served a nearby table. The waitress rushed right over.
"Please give these customers a nice table"-she looked right at Mr. Willis-"or a booth if they prefer."
"We prefer a table," Mrs. Willis said.
Jazzy nodded.
Tiffany picked up four menus. "Please, follow me."
"And their dinner is on the house," Jazzy said.
That wiped the self-satisfied expressions off both Mr. and Mrs. Willis's faces.
"That's very generous of you, Ms. Talbot, bu
t-" Mr. Willis said.
Jazzy offered the Willises a broad smile. "Your future son-in-law and I are old friends, so please consider this a wedding gift. "Jazzy glanced at Laura, who looked rather flushed. She tried to convey, without words, her reassurance that she was no threat to Laura. Poor stupid girl. She knew only too well what it was like to love Jamie Upton, to be so crazy about the guy that nothing else mattered.
"That's mighty nice of you," Jamie said.
"Yes, thank you," Laura added, her voice a whispery tremble.
"Enjoy your dinner." Jazzy turned around and headed for her office. She walked slowly, swaying her hips just a little, enough to make her movements both sexy and self-confident. Damn Mr. and Mrs. Willis. And damn Jamie, too.
As she passed by several tables, the customers glanced her way, some staring at her boldly, others doing it more subtly. Erin Mercer, an artist who lived in a cabin outside town and came to Jasmine's for dinner several evenings each week, purposefully avoided looking Jazzy's way. Jazzy caught a glimpse of the attractive older lady as she passed her table. She didn't know the woman well, but what she did know, she liked, despite the rumors she'd heard about Erin and Big Jim Upton. Of course, their affair was none of her business, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out why Erin would want the man, considering he was old enough to be her father. But then again maybe Erin wondered why Jazzy had wasted so much of her life giving Jamie numerous second chances.
At the table nearest the doors leading into the kitchen and down the hall to her office, another lone woman sat eating her dinner, totally ignoring Jazzy. She didn't know the woman's name, but she'd seen her in the restaurant several times over the past few weeks, and she was always alone. Another tourist enjoying herself in the mountains, Jazzy assumed. After all, it was springtime and tourist season had already begun. A keen observer of human nature, Jazzy got some odd vibes from this woman. She sensed the small, blonde lady was very sad.
Probably a recent widow or lonely divorcee, Jazzy decided.
Once she made it to her office, she closed the door and let out a sigh of relief. Was Jamie out of his mind coming here tonight? Or had dining at Jasmine's been someone else's idea? Mr. and Mrs. Willis's idea, perhaps. Surely not Laura's. She suspected Jamie's fiancée wasn't the type to seek confrontation, otherwise she would have already paid Jazzy a visit. Someone had a purpose for tonight's dinner, for bringing Laura and Jazzy face-to-face.
Going to the portable bar in the corner, Jazzy opened the bottle of Jack Daniels and poured enough for a couple of good belts, then took a swig. The whiskey burned a path from throat to belly, settling inside her like a hot brick. Within seconds the warmth spread through her whole body. She carried the glass over to her desk, placed it on top of a stack of bills, and pulled out her swivel chair. After sitting down, she leaned back her head and closed her eyes.
Don't stay here, she told herself. Tiffany could handle things. She should just slip out the back way and go on over to Jazzy's Joint. The loud music and rowdy crowd there might take her mind off everything she didn't want to think about-like Jamie and Laura's upcoming wedding, like wondering who the hell Reve Sorrell was. But over at Jazzy's Joint she'd be confronted with another problem-Caleb McCord. The man had been in town only a few months. He'd thrown Jamie out of Jazzy's Joint one night back in January when Jamie had tried to manhandle her. He had impressed her, the clientele, and her bartender, Lacy Fallon. Her regular bouncer hadn't shown up that night, something he had begun making a habit of doing. So she'd fired the unreliable guy and hired Caleb to take over the job. And he was very good at it, because he was not only strong as a bull, he possessed a killer stare that could stop most guys dead in their tracks. He wasn't as physically intimidating as Jacob Butler, whose six-five, two-eighty body put the fear of God into just about every man who crossed his path, but Caleb had that same earthy macho power that practically oozed from his pores.
The problem wasn't with Caleb's ability to do his job. No, the problem was that from the moment they met, there had been a sexual chemistry between the two of them. She'd be lying to herself if she denied being tempted. Her feminine instincts told her that he'd be a good lover. Probably a great lover. But despite her not altogether unwarranted bad-girl reputation, Jazzy didn't fall into the sack with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that came along. There had been a lot fewer men in her bed than most people thought. Actually, folks would be surprised to learn she really hadn't had all that many lovers.
It would be far too easy to give in to her desire for Caleb. The guy wanted her. He'd made that perfectly clear. And it was obvious that he was jealous of Jamie, which he shouldn't be. First of all, he had no claim on her, so he had no right to be jealous of any other man in her life. In the second place, Jamie was her past. She didn't love him. Okay, so he was a part of her past that kept hanging on, wouldn't let go, continued to complicate everything for her. And, yes, she did still love him. But not the way she used to. She wasn't crazy in love with Jamie anymore, but she couldn't deny that a part of her would always care about him. Hell, she knew he was a louse and considered herself well rid of that wild infatuation, but maybe a woman never quite got over her first love. Her first lover.
You need to give yourself a chance to find someone better. If you weren 't so afraid of getting hurt, you might actually fall in love again. And it could be good. Maybe better than anything she'd ever known. Didn't she deserve to love and be loved with honesty devotion, and commitment?
A soft knock on the door brought her quickly from her musings. "Yes?"
The door eased open partway and Laura Willis peeped into the office. "Ms. Talbot, may I speak to you?"
"Phone call for you," Lacy Fallon shouted to Caleb as she held up the phone located behind the bar.
He wasn't accustomed to getting calls at work. The few people he knew in Cherokee Pointe either dropped by to see him in person or telephoned him at home, if you could actually call his small rental cabin home. The place came fully furnished, and he'd done nothing to personalize it. He was a man who traveled light. All the extra baggage he carried was purely emotional, and he did his level best to never expose his vulnerabilities. He was a man without ties, free to pick up and leave anytime he chose to.
"Who is it?" Caleb asked the bartender.
"Chief Sloan," Lacy replied.
"Dallas Sloan?"
Now why would the recently hired chief of police want to talk to him? He knew Dallas on a personal basis only because the former FBI agent was now engaged to Jazzy's best friend, Genny Madoc. But he and Dallas weren't buddies, no more than he and Jacob Butler were. He liked and respected both men, but he'd given them a wide berth. He'd had his fill of lawmen back in Memphis. Hell, he'd had his fill of just about everything, inclu�
�ding his job on the Memphis police force. But that had been another time, another place, another life. When he'd come to Cherokee Pointe back in January, he'd come here searching for some answers about his past-about his mother's past. He'd had no intention of staying once he'd gotten those answers. But those plans had altered once he met Jasmine Talbot The lady had gotten under his skin the moment they met.
Hell, admit it, McCord, you wanted to fuck her when you first laid eyes on her. Jazzy had hot and wild written all over her. And he wanted to be the man she gave all that hot wildness to-in and out of bed. That very first night when Jamie Upton had tried to manhandle her, Caleb had taken great pleasure in throwing the guy out of Jazzy's Joint. He'd hated seeing the fear in Jazzy's eyes. But he'd hated even more realizing she and Upton shared a lot of history. The lady brought out every possessive, protective instinct he had.
So he'd hung around, accepted a job as the bouncer at Jazzy's Joint, and decided to take his time unearthing the truth about his mother's past here in Cherokee County-and all because he had a hankering for a woman who probably would never get over her teenage crush on Jamie Upton.
The Last To Die Page 9