If Looks Could Kill. BEVERLY BARTON
had been broken once by an Upton heir, by the charming, worthless, womanizing Jamie. And her heart was afraid to trust, afraid to believe that Miss Reba didn’t wield the same power over Caleb that she had over her other grandson.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting on my clothes,” Caleb told her.
“Why? You aren’t leaving, are you? Please, Caleb, don’t go.”
He pulled on his jeans, then felt around on the floor until he found his shirt. “I’m just going outside for a few minutes. I need some early morning air to clear my head. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Just remember, I’m not Jamie. I’m not walking out on you or giving up on us. Not now or ever. You couldn’t beat me off with a stick, honey.”
“I know you’re not Jamie.” When she sat up, the sheet dropped to her waist, exposing her breasts.
“Then stop assuming I’m going to treat you the way he did. I can’t stand it when you project his actions onto me.”
Caleb turned from her and hastily left the room. Jazzy flipped on the bedside lamp, then got up and headed for the bathroom. Usually they didn’t get up this early—and seven- thirty was early for people who didn’t go to bed until two in the morning—but she had an appointment to meet Reve Sorrell in Dr. MacNair’s office at nine. Galvin had explained to them that the results of the DNA test might take a few weeks, but Reve had informed him that she would pay any extra costs necessary to facilitate a speedy response.
Jazzy turned on the water, waited a couple of minutes for it to heat, and then stepped under the showerhead. As the warm spray doused her, she thought about her future. Her first concern was Caleb. She couldn’t keep putting him off. Sooner or later he’d get tired of waiting for her to marry him. The thought of losing him was too terrible to consider, yet she wasn’t ready to say yes. There were too many un answered questions in her life, too many loose ends she had to tie up before she could build a solid future with the man she loved. And she did love Caleb. More than she’d ever thought possible to love a man. But she had to convince him that he was the only man she loved. In order to do that, she had to let go of Jamie completely.
Since Caleb spent most nights at her apartment above Jazzy’s Joint, they usually closed the bar together and came upstairs for a late-night meal and then went to bed. She loved being with him, making love with him, sharing her life with him.
So why don’t you marry the guy? she heard Lacy Fallon’s voice inside her head. Lacy, the bartender at Jazzy’s Joint, treated Jazzy like a kid sister, giving her advice and watching out for her.
Don’t let what Jamie did to you keep you from finding happiness with Caleb, Jazzy’s best friend, Genny Sloan, had told her repeatedly.
Even her own heart advised her to reach out and grab the happiness Caleb offered.
Jazzy bathed hurriedly, washed her hair and emerged from the shower, fresh and clean and clear-headed. By the time she dried her hair and dressed, Caleb would probably be back in the apartment and in the kitchen fixing their breakfast. She smiled to herself. Her Caleb was a man of many talents.
The telephone rang. Who on earth would be calling so early? Everyone knew they slept late. After wrapping a towel around her, Jazzy rushed into the bedroom to answer the phone.
“Hello.”
“Jazzy, this is Reve Sorrell. I got an early start so I’m already in town. I’m over at Jasmine’s and have just ordered breakfast. Any chance you can join me?”
“Ah . . . I just stepped out of the shower, but—” Maybe it was a good idea to touch base with Reve before they went to see Galvin. After all, if it turned out they really were twin sisters, as they suspected, they’d be spending a great deal of time together in the upcoming weeks. They had agreed that if the DNA tests proved they were siblings, they would work together to discover the truth about their parentage.
“If you’d rather not—” Reve said.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll hurry and dress.” Jazzy peeked through the open bedroom door and into the living room. No sign of Caleb. She listened for any sound of him in the kitchen. None.
“It’s okay if I bring Caleb along, isn’t it?”
“Sure. After all, he is your fiancé, right?”
“He most certainly is. Unofficially.”
“Have you two set a date?”
“Not yet.” Everyone assumed that sooner or later she’d accept Caleb’s proposal—everyone except Caleb’s grandmother, one of Cherokee County’s grande dames, Reba Upton.
Damn the old bitch!
“Bring him along,” Reve said. “I’ll go ahead and eat, then have coffee when y’all arrive. Or would you like for me to order for you two and wait?”
“Yes, do that. Just tell Tiffany that Caleb and I will be eating at the restaurant this morning. She knows our usual order.”
“See you soon.”
“Mm-hm.” The dial tone hummed in Jazzy’s ear.
Reve Sorrell had been pleasant enough, but not overly friendly. The woman had erected some sort of emotional barrier around herself, one that effectively kept people at bay. If they were twin sisters, how was it possible that their personalities were as different as night is from day? She supposed it all boiled down to the old question about which dominated a person’s physical, mental and emotional makeup more—nurture or nature.
Reve Sorrell was a class act. A real lady. Jazzy Talbot was a dame, a broad, a good old gal.
“Jazzy?” Caleb called to her as he entered the living room.
“Huh?”
“Want me to put on some coffee?”
Caleb might get upset with her, he might storm off in a rage, but he always came back. He never left her for more than a few minutes, an hour or two on a few occasions. He meant what he’d said about not ever leaving her. Not the way Jamie had done, time and time again.
“Reve Sorrell just called,” Jazzy said. “She wants us to meet her for breakfast over at Jasmine’s.”
“She got in early, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, she did. I guess she’s as anxious as I am to get our DNA samples sent off to the lab.”
Caleb appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Give me a couple of minutes to grab a quick shower.” As he moved past her, he paused, leaned over and kissed her cheek, then yanked off her towel before he went into the bathroom.
Jazzy hugged herself and sighed contentedly. Reve Sorrell might be a lady—a very rich and important lady—but who cared? Caleb didn’t. And it didn’t matter to him that Jazzy wasn’t some blue-blood with a lily-white reputation. He loved her just the way she was. And Caleb’s opinion was all that mattered.
Sally Talbot stood on her front porch, a tasty chaw of tobacco in her mouth. Peter and Paul, her old bloodhounds, lounged lazily under the porch, their heads barely peeking out as they snored. She wished she could sleep as easy as them two varmints did, but if they had the worries she had, they wouldn’t be sleeping so soundly either. After spitting a spray of brown juice out into the yard, Sally wiped her mouth and took a deep breath of autumn mountain air. There weren’t nothing like autumn in the Appalachians. The crisp, clean morning air. The bright colors nature painted the earth this time of year. No, sirree, weren’t no place on earth as near God’s heaven as these here mountains.
All her life—some seventy-one years now—she’d spent here in Cherokee County, most of it in this same old house her pa had built for her ma before he up and died of TB back in forty-nine. And all these years she’d been an