If Looks Could Kill Aka As Good As Dead Part 3

Jacob Butler, all six-feet, five-inches of him, blocked Reve's path. The man's size alone was intimidating, but adding to his tough-guy image were the hard, chiseled features, the pensive green eyes and the long black hair. His appearance screamed dangerous savage.

"Morning, Jacob." Jazzy tried to control the grin spreading across her face. She glanced from Reve to Jacob. She wasn't sure whose expression conveyed more shocked dismay. These two had despised each other on sight when they'd' met back last spring. "You remember Reve Sorrell, don't you?"

Jacob tipped his Stetson. "Ma'am."

Reve's spine stiffened. "Sheriff."

When Jacob tried to walk past them, Jazzy jumped in front of him. "What's your hurry?"

"I need to talk to Dr. MacNair. I've got an appointment."

"Are you sick?"

"You sure are nosey," Jacob said.

"You know me-always concerned about my fellow man."

Jacob's lips twitched in a hint of a smile. Ever since they'd been kids, she'd been able to make Jacob smile, even when Genny couldn't. And he loved Genny more than anybody on earth, her being his cousin who'd been raised like a sister to him.

"I'm setting up a time for flu shots for all my employees," Jacob explained. "It's getting to be that time of year. With the small force I have at the sheriff's department, I can't afford to have anybody laid up with the flu for a week."

"I hear your staff is going to be decreasing by one pretty soon," Jazzy said. "Just as soon as Tewanda gets her law degree and pa.s.ses the bar."

Jacob nodded. "Yeah, and we're all right proud of her, but we're sure going to miss her. She's been a topnotch deputy."

"Hey, if you're not doing anything special for lunch today, why don't you come over to Jasmine's and join Reve and me." She swallowed a chuckle and clamped her teeth together to keep from laughing out loud. "We're going to get acquainted. You know... just in case we turn out to be sisters. You could fill her in on what I was like as a kid. And you could give her some insight into me as a woman." She turned to Reve. "You know Jacob and I even dated for a while, and I'm here to tell you that this man"- Jazzy wound her arm around Jacob's arm -"is one great kisser."

Reve gasped. Jazzy laughed. Jacob seared Jazzy with his tight gaze.

"Ah, lighten up, you two," Jazzy told them. "Relax. I'm just having some fun with y'all."

"I'm afraid I don't see the humor in this situation," Reve said.

"Look, I don't know why you two decided instantly that you can't stand each other, but we need to do something to change this. Right now. If Reve is my sister, I can't have one of my oldest and dearest friends and my newly found twin hating each other."

"I haven't got time for this," Jacob said and tried to move past Jazzy.

She stood stubbornly in his way. "Agree to have lunch with us and I'll-"

"I have other plans for lunch," he said.

"Then supper tonight-you two with Caleb and me."

"Don't do this," Jacob told her, a strained expression on his face.

"I'm not available for dinner," Reve said.

Jazzy heaved a deep sigh. "Okay, I give up. For now. But don't think this is the end of it." She moved aside and allowed Jacob to pa.s.s.

Once they were alone, Reve snapped around and glared at Jazzy. "I do not-under any circ.u.mstances-wish to be engaged socially with Sheriff Butler. I'd appreciate it if you'd give up any plans you have that involve my becoming better acquainted with that man."

Jazzy let out a long, low whistle. "He really punched all your b.u.t.tons, didn't he?"

"All the wrong b.u.t.tons."

Jazzy shook her head. "I just can't figure it out. I've never seen Jacob have a negative effect on a woman before. Usually, a woman takes one look at him and swoons at his feet. After all, honey, let's face it-the man is to die for."

"I'm afraid I fail to see whatever it is that makes him so irresistible."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Let's end this ridiculous conversation." Reve started walking toward her Jaguar in the side parking lot next to the clinic. "I can drop you back by Jasmine's, if you'd like. I made plans for an early check-in at my cabin. I'd like to get settled and freshen up before lunch."

"I'll walk," Jazzy said. "It's only a few blocks."

"Very well. What time shall I meet you for lunch?"

"How about one o'clock?"

Reve nodded agreement.

Jazzy didn't press the matter-getting Reve and Jacob together-but she had no intention of letting it drop. She suspected that although Reve disliked Jacob and probably found him intimidating, she wasn't as immune to his obvious masculine charms as she professed to be. Maybe Reve just didn't know how to deal with unwanted s.e.xual attraction. And unless she missed her guess, that was what was going on between Jacob and Reve.

Jazzy couldn't contain her laughter, amused at the thought of s.e.xual sparks igniting between Jacob and Reve. Talk about a mismatched couple.

"Dare I ask what you find so amusing?" Reve asked.

"Nothing really. I was just thinking how you stick out like a sore thumb around here. Unless you hobn.o.b with the Uptons or the MacKinnons, all you're going to run across around here are just common folks. Hill people. Rednecks. And a few breeds, like Jacob and Genny."

"I suspected the sheriff was part Native American. Doesn't he mind being referred to as a breed?"

"He and Genny are both a quarter Cherokee and d.a.m.n proud of it. And I'm practically family to them, so my referring to them that way is the same as the two of them calling themselves breeds."

"At least they know their heritage. Whereas you and I..." Reve let the sentence trail off into silence.

"You really are worried about it, aren't you? Poor Reve. What if you find out I'm your twin and that our parents were really white trash? Me, I've got nothing to lose. I've always been white trash. But you-"

"I am a Sorrell, regardless of my genetic heritage."

"Yeah, I guess you are, aren't you?"

Jazzy turned and walked away, not glancing back, but sensing that Reve was watching her. She wanted to be friends with this woman, to find some common bond between them other than the likelihood they were sisters. But the chances of that happening appeared to fall into the s...o...b..ll's chance in h.e.l.l category.

Becky Olmstead had graduated from high school in the spring and was working as a gofer at MacKinnon Media headquarters to earn enough money to pay for college. At least, that was what she'd told her mother. But she had no intention of going to college, and her job here was just a smoke screen to keep her old lady off her back. Combining what she earned here with what she picked up at night on her other job, she should be able to leave Cherokee Pointe before New Year's and begin a new life in Nashville. More than anything, she wanted to get away from home-from her nagging mother and her mean, drunken stepfather. If anyone had told her two years ago that she would have gone from being a teenager who just liked to have fun, to one of half a dozen hookers in Cherokee Pointe, she wouldn't have believed it. But when, at sixteen, she'd been offered fifty bucks to go down on a guy, she hadn't been able to refuse such easy money.

If folks knew the men she'd screwed during the past couple of years, they'd be surprised. h.e.l.l, they'd be shocked. Her first john, the one who'd given her fifty bucks to give him a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b, was old enough to be her grandfather and was a prominent citizen. He still came to her occasionally, but not so often lately. As a matter of fact, she hadn't serviced him in nearly two months. But he wasn't the only big spender. Not by a long shot. Actually, if she wasn't just a little bit afraid of getting into some bad trouble, she'd try blackmail. She sure could ruin a few lives if she named names.

Nah, better not go that route, she told herself. She'd been saving steadily for her big escape, and pretty soon she'd have a sizable nest egg, enough to live on until she could hook up with the right people in Music City. Who knew, could be she'd wind up married to some famous country singer and get to live in one of those fancy mansions that would put the Upton house and the MacKinnon house to shame.

"Becky! Go over to Jasmine's and pick up Mr. MacKinnon's lunch, right now!" Glenda Motte, Brian MacKinnon's secretary, called out to her.

"Right away, Ms. Motte."

Becky hurried to the employee's lounge, where she'd left her jacket that morning, and glanced at the wall clock above the coffeemaker. She hoped the meal was ready when she got to Jasmine's; otherwise, Mr. MacKinnon would take a strip off Ms. Motte's hide. The man was a tyrant. She figured that n.o.body who worked for him really liked him. But who had die b.a.l.l.s to tell the man to go to h.e.l.l? He ruled over MacKinnon Media like a d.a.m.ned dictator, and if anybody crossed him, he saw to it mat they lost their job. Since starting work here in June, she'd had to run errands throughout the complex that housed the Cherokee Pointe Herald as well as WMMK TV and radio stations, so she'd heard plenty of grumbling about the big boss.

"He's not half the man his father is."

"Farlan MacKinnon is one of the best men I know. A fair and honest man. Brian runs a poor second best to his father."

"Brian is such a s.h.i.thead. Too bad he's not more like the old man. Or even more like that loony uncle of his. At least Wallace MacKinnon is likable."

Becky b.u.t.toned up her jacket as she rode the elevator from the fifth floor to the first. The MacKinnon Building was the tallest building in town, with the boss's office taking up a large section of the fifth floor. When she went outside, the autumn sun warmed her despite the chilly north wind stirring up leaves from the sidewalk and scattering debris. She quickened her pace as she sauntered up the street.

He watched Becky Olmstead as she strode up the street, her slender hips swaying seductively in her skin-tight jeans. The girl was a tramp. None of her fellow employees at MacKinnon Media knew what she did to earn extra money at night. But he knew. He knew all about her. For months now, he'd made a point of learning everything he could about Becky without drawing any attention to himself.

He didn't intend to do anything about his attraction to her, even though he couldn't stop himself from thinking about her, from watching her. Of course, the first thing he'd noticed about her had been her red hair. It wasn't quite the same shade as Dinah's, but then again, she didn't always choose to come back as a redhead. However, when she came back as a blonde or a brunette, he always asked her to dye her hair. And she always obliged.

If Becky didn't live here in Cherokee County, he would approach her, get to know her and see if there was a possibility that Dinah might come back through her this time. Dinah always came to him in the bodies of women who reminded him of her, women who attracted him physically. But whenever he was drawn to a hometown woman, he never acted on that attraction. He didn't want to run the risk of becoming involved with someone this close to home. Over the years, he'd always found Dinah outside Cherokee County. In Knoxville. In Sevierville. In Johnson City. In Kingsport. In Oak Ridge. Even down in Cleveland and Chattanooga. And; once as far east as Asheville, North Carolina.

But watching Becky, his gaze focused on the s.e.xy way she walked, his p.e.n.i.s grew hard. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would feel like to be inside her. He ran his hand over the fly of his slacks and sighed.

He'd have to make another trip out of town soon and see if he could find Dinah. If he couldn't find her, he could at least ease the ache with some other wh.o.r.e. But it was never the same with another woman. Never as satisfying. He could f.u.c.k a dozen other women and still be hungry for what only Dinah could give him.

He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, imagining what Becky Olmstead would taste like if he kissed her, if he sucked; her t.i.ts, if he delved his tongue between her parted thighs.

Groaning inwardly, he turned around and looked the other way. After taking several deep breaths, he managed to control the raging hunger inside him. He would have to wait for satisfaction. There was no way he could leave town again so soon, but at the first opportunity, he'd go back to Knoxville and find himself a willing woman.

And if he was very lucky, he'd find Dinah again.

CHAPTER 4.

Dora opened the front door of the Uptons' antebellum mansion situated a half mile off die winding road leading up the mountain. She offered Caleb a warm, welcoming smile when he entered the ma.s.sive black-and-white marble-floored foyer.

Although both Miss Reba and Big Jim had accepted him as their grandson and had invited him to move in with them, Caleb still didn't feel as if he really belonged-in this house or to the Upton family. He'd been born and raised in Memphis, never knowing his father and somehow managing to survive as the child of a drug-addicted mother. It wasn't until Melanie Upton was dying that she told Caleb who her parents were and where they lived. She'd begged him to go to the Uptons then, when he'd been sixteen. But back men, he hadn't wanted anything to do with people he didn't know. Up until then he'd been taking care of himself by cheating, lying and stealing, doing whatever it took to stay alive and keep just below the child welfare department's radar. Despite all his mother's faults, he'd loved her and had done whatever he thought was necessary not only to stay with her, but to take care of her. In their case, the parental roles had become reversed when Caleb was about seven.

"They're waiting for you in the breakfast room. Go on in. I've made a big pot of chicken stew and baked a carrot cake, fresh this morning."

Dora, the Uptons' faithful housekeeper, had taken an immediate liking to Caleb the first time Big Jim had brought him home. But on their very first meeting, she'd issued him a warning. "That Jamie was a no-good devil, but we loved him. Miss Reba most of all. He broke her heart over and over again. I suspect you ain't nothing like Jamie. But I'm telling you now, if you ever hurt Miss Reba, you'll have to answer to me."

The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt either of his newly found grandparents. But he'd realized right off the bat that his grandmother was a master manipulator, a strong-willed woman who liked to rule the roost. Although Big Jim was more laid-back, not as snooty or judgmental, the old man was used to running things his way. Caleb guessed that kind of authoritarian mind-set came from being born rich and powerful.

"One thing I've found out since I've been getting to know the grandparents is that their most valuable a.s.set is you, Dora."

Giggling like a child, Dora blushed, then swatted Caleb on the arm and said, "You do have that in common with your cousin Jamie-you know how to flatter a woman."

"My flattery is sincere," Caleb a.s.sured her, hating to be compared to his late cousin in any way, shape, form or fashion.

"Yes, I believe it is. And that's the difference. One of many that makes you a far better man."

While Caleb headed toward the breakfast room, Dora turned and went into the kitchen. The moment Miss Reba saw him, her face lit up, her lips curving into a broad smile and her eyes bright with excitement. Big Jim eased up from his chair and threw out his hand.

"We're delighted you could join us today," Miss Reba said.

"Good to see you, son. Good to see you." Big Jim took Caleb's hand in a firm, man-to-man shake.

"You just don't come around nearly enough." His grandmother's tone was friendly yet scolding. "I do wish you'd reconsider coming here to live with us. We've got so much room. You could have your own suite. We'd redo Jamie's old rooms for you or-"

"Leave the boy be." Big Jim indicated one of the large oak chairs at the table. "Sit, sit. Dora's fixed some of her world famous chicken stew. You're in for a real treat."

Caleb sat between his grandparents at the large oak table. "I'll do my best to visit more often, Miss Reba. But I have a job and a girlfriend that both require a great deal of my time."

He sensed rather than saw his grandmother stiffen at the mention of a girlfriend. Reba Upton had forbidden her grandson, Jamie, to marry Jazzy when they'd been teenagers and he'd gotten Jazzy pregnant. And although Jazzy had miscarried the child and Jamie had allowed his grandmother to dictate who he could and could not marry, Jamie and Jazzy had continued an on-again, off-again affair for years. Not only did his grandmother's disapproval stand between Jazzy and Caleb, but so did his cousin's memory. Yet he hoped that with each pa.s.sing day, Jazzy's memories of Jamie would dim and the time would come when she would trust him with her heart. Jamie had used her and disappointed her so often that Jazzy was afraid to believe in another man, especially another Upton heir. The fact that Miss Reba staunchly opposed his and Jazzy's relationship sure didn't help his efforts to convince Jazzy to marry him.

"You shouldn't be wasting your time working as a bouncer w that awful place," Miss Reba told him. "Jim is eager to have you come into the family business. He should have retired completely years ago. Someday in the not too distant future, Upton Dairies will be yours, so you should be leaning the business now."

That was another thing he hadn't quite gotten used to-being the only heir to a fortune worth at least fifty or sixty million, maybe more. The Uptons had originally been dairy farmers, and he supposed that's what they still were. But right after World War I, Big Jim's grandfather and father had expanded the local business, and by the time World War If ended, Upton Dairies was the biggest producer of milk and dairy products in the state of Tennessee. With shrewd investments and by branching out, the family's wealth had increased) immeasurably over the years. Big Jim had recently taken? Caleb aside and explained all this to him.

"Good G.o.d, woman, will you stop pressuring the boy. Let him get used to being our grandson before you start trying to run his life."

Reba gasped dramatically. "I'm offended that you'd accuse me of such a thing. I'd never try to-"

Big Jim laughed, the sound deep and robust. "Lord love you, honey, you honestly can't see your own faults. Never could." Not giving his wife time for a quick reb.u.t.tal, Jim reached out and slapped Caleb on the arm. "Something tells me that this young man won't be so easily manipulated. From what I've seen, he has a mind and a will of his own. He'll do whatever the h.e.l.l he pleases-about Upton Dairies and about Jazzy Talbot."

"How is Jasmine?" Miss Reba asked, her voice strained.

Caleb was genuinely surprised that his grandmother had; even inquired about Jazzy. He knew how much effort it had; taken her to say Jazzy's name in a civil manner, considering how she-no matter how irrational the idea was-held Jazzy partly responsible for Jamie's death.

"Jazzy's just fine," Caleb replied. "Thank you for asking, Miss Reba."

"I do wish you'd call me Big Mama."

"I feel more comfortable calling you Miss Reba, at least for now."

"Miss Reba and Big Jim are fine with us," Jim said. "So, Jazzy's doing fine, huh? You'll have to bring her out here to dinner one evening." He shot Reba a warning glare. "Won't he, honey? We'd be pleased to have her."

Caleb glanced at his grandmother and barely restrained the laughter bubbling up in his throat. Miss Reba had gone ghost white, her perfect pink mouth formed a startled oval and her big blue eyes widened as round as saucers.

"I doubt Jasmine Talbot would accept an invitation to dine with us," Reba said. "Considering our past history."

"She might." Caleb looked pleadingly at his grandmother. "If you telephoned her and invited her yourself."

Miss Reba swallowed, took a deep breath and offered him a weak smile. "Would you like that, dear? Would it please you?"