Authors: Beverly Barton
Doing her best to avo-id ma-king eye con-tact with Jamie, Jaz-zy rep-li-ed, "That's right. We don't ta-ke re-ser-va-ti-ons he-re at Jas-mi-ne's." She co-uld fe-el Jamie's he-ated sta-re, knew he was wat-c-hing her, and won-de-red if La-ura no-ti-ced. Ha-zar-ding a qu-ick si-de-long glan-ce at Jamie's fi-an-c-ée, she fo-und her-self lo-oking di-recdy in-to the wo-man's spe-cu-la-ti-ve blue eyes. The-ir ga-zes col-li-ded, and Jaz-zy un-der-s-to-od that this pretty, de-li-ca-te girl was si-lently ple-ading with her. Jaz-zy co-uld al-most he-ar La-ura sa-ying, "Ple-ase let him go. If you don't want him and I do."
With her no-se ti-ded up-ward, per-fec-ting a ha-ughty ex-p-res-si-on, Mrs. Wil-lis in-s-pec-ted her sur-ro-un-dings. This is a rat-her qu-a-int lit-tle pla-ce. I do ho-pe we can find so-met-hing pa-la-tab-le on the me-nu." She ske-we-red Jaz-zy with a sharp gla-re. "Ever-y-t-hing isn't fri-ed, is it? I de-test fri-ed fo-od. Per-haps we sho-uld spe-ak to the ow-ner abo-ut ha-ving the chef pre-pa-re so-met-hing that isn't fri-ed."
"I'm the ow-ner." Jaz-zy fo-cu-sed on Mrs. Wil-lis. "Let me as-su-re you that we ha-ve a wi-de va-ri-ety on our me-nu, in-c-lu-ding bro-iled, bo-iled, ba-ked, and gril-led items."
"Well, that's a re-li-ef, isn't it, my de-ar?" Mr. Wil-lis sur-ve-yed Jaz-zy from he-ad to toe and smi-led con-des-cen-dingly. "So you're Jas-mi-ne." He pa-used for ef-fect. "The prop-ri-et-ress."
Jazzy snap-ped her fin-gers at Tif-fany who had just ser-ved a ne-arby tab-le. The wa-it-ress rus-hed right over.
"Please gi-ve the-se cus-to-mers a ni-ce tab-le"-she lo-oked right at Mr. Wil-lis-"or a bo-oth if they pre-fer."
"We pre-fer a tab-le," Mrs. Wil-lis sa-id.
Jazzy nod-ded.
Tiffany pic-ked up fo-ur me-nus. "Ple-ase, fol-low me."
"And the-ir din-ner is on the ho-use," Jaz-zy sa-id.
That wi-ped the self-sa-tis-fi-ed ex-p-res-si-ons off both Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis's fa-ces.
"That's very ge-ne-ro-us of you, Ms. Tal-bot, but-" Mr. Wil-lis sa-id.
Jazzy of-fe-red the Wil-li-ses a bro-ad smi-le. "Yo-ur fu-tu-re son-in-law and I are old fri-ends, so ple-ase con-si-der this a wed-ding gift. "Jaz-zy glan-ced at La-ura, who lo-oked rat-her flus-hed. She tri-ed to con-vey, wit-ho-ut words, her re-as-su-ran-ce that she was no thre-at to La-ura. Po-or stu-pid girl. She knew only too well what it was li-ke to lo-ve Jamie Upton, to be so crazy abo-ut the guy that not-hing el-se mat-te-red.
"That's mighty ni-ce of you," Jamie sa-id.
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"Yes, thank you," La-ura ad-ded, her vo-ice a whis-pery trem-b-le.
"Enjoy yo-ur din-ner." Jaz-zy tur-ned aro-und and he-aded for her of-fi-ce. She wal-ked slowly, swa-ying her hips just a lit-tle, eno-ugh to ma-ke her mo-ve-ments both sexy and self-con-fi-dent. Damn Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis. And damn Jamie, too.
As she pas-sed by se-ve-ral tab-les, the cus-to-mers glan-ced her way, so-me sta-ring at her boldly, ot-hers do-ing it mo-re subtly. Erin Mer-cer, an ar-tist who li-ved in a ca-bin out-si-de town and ca-me to Jas-mi-ne's for din-ner se-ve-ral eve-nings each we-ek, pur-po-se-ful-ly avo-ided lo-oking Jaz-zy's way. Jaz-zy ca-ught a glim-p-se of the at-trac-ti-ve ol-der lady as she pas-sed her tab-le. She didn't know the wo-man well, but what she did know, she li-ked, des-pi-te the ru-mors she'd he-ard abo-ut Erin and Big Jim Up-ton. Of co-ur-se, the-ir af-fa-ir was no-ne of her bu-si-ness, but for the li-fe of her she co-uldn't fi-gu-re out why Erin wo-uld want the man, con-si-de-ring he was old eno-ugh to be her fat-her. But then aga-in may-be Erin won-de-red why Jaz-zy had was-ted so much of her li-fe gi-ving Jamie nu-me-ro-us se-cond chan-ces.
At the tab-le ne-arest the do-ors le-ading in-to the kit-c-hen and down the hall to her of-fi-ce, anot-her lo-ne wo-man sat eating her din-ner, to-tal-ly ig-no-ring Jaz-zy. She didn't know the wo-man's na-me, but she'd se-en her in the res-ta-urant se-ve-ral ti-mes over the past few we-eks, and she was al-ways alo-ne. Anot-her to-urist enj-oying her-self in the mo-un-ta-ins, Jaz-zy as-su-med. Af-ter all, it was sprin-g-ti-me and to-urist se-ason had al-re-ady be-gun. A ke-en ob-ser-ver of hu-man na-tu-re, Jaz-zy got so-me odd vi-bes from this wo-man. She sen-sed the small, blon-de lady was very sad.
Probably a re-cent wi-dow or lo-nely di-vor-cee, Jaz-zy de-ci-ded.
Once she ma-de it to her of-fi-ce, she clo-sed the do-or and let out a sigh of re-li-ef. Was Jamie out of his mind co-ming he-re to-night? Or had di-ning at Jas-mi-ne's be-en so-me-one el-se's idea? Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis's idea, per-haps. Su-rely not La-ura's. She sus-pec-ted Jamie's fi-an-c-ée wasn't the type to se-ek con-f-ron-ta-ti-on, ot-her-wi-se she wo-uld ha-ve al-re-ady pa-id Jaz-zy a vi-sit. So-me-one had a pur-po-se for to-night's din-ner, for brin-ging La-ura and Jaz-zy fa-ce-to-fa-ce.
Going to the por-tab-le bar in the cor-ner, Jaz-zy ope-ned the bot-tle of Jack Da-ni-els and po-ured eno-ugh for a co-up-le of go-od belts, then to-ok a swig. The whis-key bur-ned a path from thro-at to belly, set-tling in-si-de her li-ke a hot brick. Wit-hin se-conds the warmth spre-ad thro-ugh her who-le body. She car-ri-ed the glass over to her desk, pla-ced it on top of a stack of bills, and pul-led out her swi-vel cha-ir. Af-ter sit-ting down, she le-aned back her he-ad and clo-sed her eyes.
Don't stay he-re, she told her-self. Tif-fany co-uld han-d-le things. She sho-uld just slip out the back way and go on over to Jaz-zy's Jo-int. The lo-ud mu-sic and rowdy crowd the-re might ta-ke her mind off ever-y-t-hing she didn't want to think abo-ut-li-ke Jamie and La-ura's up-co-ming wed-ding, li-ke won-de-ring who the hell Re-ve Sor-rell was. But over at Jaz-zy's Jo-int she'd be con-f-ron-ted with anot-her prob-lem-Ca-leb McCord. The man had be-en in town only a few months. He'd thrown Jamie out of Jaz-zy's Jo-int one night back in Janu-ary when Jamie had tri-ed to man-han-d-le her. He had im-p-res-sed her, the cli-en-te-le, and her bar-ten-der, Lacy Fal-lon. Her re-gu-lar bo-un-cer hadn't shown up that night, so-met-hing he had be-gun ma-king a ha-bit of do-ing. So she'd fi-red the un-re-li-ab-le guy and hi-red Ca-leb to ta-ke over the job. And he was very go-od at it, be-ca-use he was not only strong as a bull, he pos-ses-sed a kil-ler sta-re that co-uld stop most guys de-ad in the-ir tracks. He wasn't as physi-cal-ly in-ti-mi-da-ting as Jacob But-ler, who-se six-fi-ve, two-eighty body put the fe-ar of God in-to just abo-ut every man who cros-sed his path, but Ca-leb had that sa-me earthy mac-ho po-wer that prac-ti-cal-ly oozed from his po-res.
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The prob-lem wasn't with Ca-leb's abi-lity to do his job. No, the prob-lem was that from the mo-ment they met, the-re had be-en a se-xu-al che-mistry bet-we-en the two of them. She'd be lying to her-self if she de-ni-ed be-ing tem-p-ted. Her fe-mi-ni-ne in-s-tincts told her that he'd be a go-od lo-ver.
Pro-bably a gre-at lo-ver. But des-pi-te her not al-to-get-her un-war-ran-ted bad-girl re-pu-ta-ti-on, Jaz-zy didn't fall in-to the sack with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that ca-me along. The-re had be-en a lot fe-wer men in her bed than most pe-op-le tho-ught. Ac-tu-al-ly, folks wo-uld be sur-p-ri-sed to le-arn she re-al-ly hadn't had all that many lo-vers.
It wo-uld be far too easy to gi-ve in to her de-si-re for Ca-leb. The guy wan-ted her. He'd ma-de that per-fectly cle-ar. And it was ob-vi-o-us that he was je-alo-us of Jamie, which he sho-uldn't be. First of all, he had no cla-im on her, so he had no right to be je-alo-us of any ot-her man in her li-fe. In the se-cond pla-ce, Jamie was her past. She didn't lo-ve him. Okay, so he was a part of her past that kept han-ging on, wo-uldn't let go, con-ti-nu-ed to com-p-li-ca-te ever-y-t-hing for her. And, yes, she did still lo-ve him. But not the way she used to. She wasn't crazy in lo-ve with Jamie an-y-mo-re, but she co-uldn't deny that a part of her wo-uld al-ways ca-re abo-ut him. Hell, she knew he was a lo-use and con-si-de-red her-self well rid of that wild in-fa-tu-ati-on, but may-be a wo-man ne-ver qu-ite got over her first lo-ve. Her first lo-ver.
You ne-ed to gi-ve yo-ur-self a chan-ce to find so-me-one bet-ter. If you we-ren 't so af-ra-id of
get-ting hurt, you might ac-tu-al-ly fall in lo-ve aga-in.
And it co-uld be go-od. May-be bet-ter than an-y-t-hing she'd ever known. Didn't she de-ser-ve to lo-ve and be lo-ved with ho-nesty de-vo-ti-on, and com-mit-ment?
A soft knock on the do-or bro-ught her qu-ickly from her mu-sings. "Yes?"
The do-or eased open par-t-way and La-ura Wil-lis pe-eped in-to the of-fi-ce. "Ms. Tal-bot, may I spe-ak to you?"
"Phone call for you," Lacy Fal-lon sho-uted to Ca-leb as she held up the pho-ne lo-ca-ted be-hind the bar.
He wasn't ac-cus-to-med to get-ting calls at work. The few pe-op-le he knew in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te eit-her drop-ped by to see him in per-son or te-lep-ho-ned him at ho-me, if you co-uld ac-tu-al-ly call his small ren-tal ca-bin ho-me. The pla-ce ca-me fully fur-nis-hed, and he'd do-ne not-hing to per-so-na-li-ze it. He was a man who tra-ve-led light. All the ex-t-ra bag-ga-ge he car-ri-ed was pu-rely emo-ti-onal, and he did his le-vel best to ne-ver ex-po-se his vul-ne-ra-bi-li-ti-es. He was a man wit-ho-ut ti-es, free to pick up and le-ave an-y-ti-me he cho-se to.
"Who is it?" Ca-leb as-ked the bar-ten-der.
"Chief Slo-an," Lacy rep-li-ed.
"Dallas Slo-an?"
Now why wo-uld the re-cently hi-red chi-ef of po-li-ce want to talk to him? He knew Dal-las on a per-so-nal ba-sis only be-ca-use the for-mer FBI agent was now en-ga-ged to Jaz-zy's best fri-end, Genny Ma-doc. But he and Dal-las we-ren't bud-di-es, no mo-re than he and Jacob But-ler we-re. He
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li-ked and res-pec-ted both men, but he'd gi-ven them a wi-de berth. He'd had his fill of law-men back in Mem-p-his. Hell, he'd had his fill of just abo-ut ever-y-t-hing, in-c-lu-ding his job on the Mem-p-his po-li-ce for-ce. But that had be-en anot-her ti-me, anot-her pla-ce, anot-her li-fe. When he'd co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te back in January, he'd co-me he-re se-ar-c-hing for so-me an-s-wers abo-ut his past-abo-ut his mot-her's past. He'd had no in-ten-ti-on of sta-ying on-ce he'd got-ten tho-se an-s-wers.
But tho-se plans had al-te-red on-ce he met Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot The lady had got-ten un-der his skin the mo-ment they met.
Hell, ad-mit it, McCord, you wan-ted to fuck her when you first la-id eyes on her
. Jaz-zy had hot and wild writ-ten all over her. And he wan-ted to be the man she ga-ve all that hot wil-d-ness to-in and out of bed. That very first night when Jamie Up-ton had tri-ed to man-han-d-le her, Ca-leb had ta-ken gre-at ple-asu-re in thro-wing the guy out of Jaz-zy's Jo-int. He'd ha-ted se-e-ing the fe-ar in Jaz-zy's eyes. But he'd ha-ted even mo-re re-ali-zing she and Up-ton sha-red a lot of his-tory. The lady bro-ught out every pos-ses-si-ve, pro-tec-ti-ve in-s-tinct he had.
So he'd hung aro-und, ac-cep-ted a job as the bo-un-cer at Jaz-zy's Jo-int, and de-ci-ded to ta-ke his ti-me une-ar-t-hing the truth abo-ut his mot-her's past he-re in Che-ro-kee Co-un-ty-and all be-ca-use he had a han-ke-ring for a wo-man who pro-bably wo-uld ne-ver get over her te-ena-ge crush on Jamie Up-ton.
Caleb ma-de his way thro-ugh the crow-ded ro-om, pac-ked to ca-pa-city be-ca-use it was a Sa-tur-day night and lo-cals as well as to-urists fo-und Jaz-zy's Jo-int the ide-al pla-ce to let off a lit-tle ste-am. When he went be-hind the bar, Lacy nod-ded at the por-tab-le re-ce-iver she'd pla-ced by the te-lep-ho-ne ba-se. Af-ter pic-king up the re-ce-iver, he es-ca-ped in-to the hal-lway that led to the sto-re-ro-oms on one si-de and Jaz-zy's of-fi-ce on the ot-her. No way co-uld he ha-ve he-ard an-y-t-hing if he'd sta-yed in the bar. Bet-we-en the ga-mes go-ing on at the po-ol tab-les, the mu-sic blas-ting from the li-ve band, and the buzz of talk and la-ug-h-ter from the pat-rons, a guy co-uldn't he-ar him-self think.
"McCord he-re."
''This is Dal-las Slo-an."
"Yeah, Chi-ef, what can I do for you?"
Dallas cle-ared his-th-ro-at. "Genny wan-ted me to call you."
Puzzled, Ca-leb as-ked, "Why wo-uld-"
"It's abo-ut Jaz-zy."
"What abo-ut her?"
"Hell, McCord, this is aw-k-ward for me," Dal-las ad-mit-ted. "But Genny had one of her vi-si-ons this mor-ning and she's wor-ri-ed abo-ut Jaz-zy."
"Why call me?"
Get re-al
, Ca-leb told him-self.
Don't you think Dal-las and Genny know you've
got the hots for Jaz-zy?
"Like I sa-id, it wasn't my idea to get in to-uch with you. But my fu-tu-re wi-fe can be very per-su-asi-ve when she's de-ter-mi-ned to get her way. I'm con-tac-ting you be-ca-use you and Jaz-zy
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are fri-ends and you two spend a gre-at de-al of ti-me to-get-her the-re at Jaz-zy's Jo-int. And be-ca-use Genny fe-els that you ca-re abo-ut Jaz-zy, eno-ugh to want to pro-tect her."
"Protect her from what?"
"Jamie Up-ton."
"Look, tell yo-ur wi-fe-to-be that the-re's only so much I can do. If Jaz-zy cho-oses to be with Up-ton, then-"
"Genny be-li-eves so-me-one is go-ing to kill Up-ton and that so-me-how Jaz-zy will be bla-med for his mur-der."
"Are you shit-ting me?"
"Look, McCord, the-re was a ti-me when I tho-ught Genny's vi-si-ons we-re a bunch of non-sen-se.
But I've le-ar-ned bet-ter."
"Why not call Up-ton and tell him he's a de-ad man wal-king?"
"He's not go-ing to be-li-eve Genny. He's an ar-ro-gant fo-ol, and we both know it."
"What do-es Genny want from me?"
"She wants you to ke-ep an eye on Jaz-zy. If so-me-one do-es kill Up-ton, we don't want Jaz-zy in-vol-ved in any way."
"Like I sa-id, the-re's only so much I can do. It's not as if Jaz-zy and I li-ve to-get-her. Hell, we aren't even da-ting."