Beg To Die

“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.