"Thirty-two years ago, I went to Knoxville with Dodd for a boys' night out," Farlan sa-id. "For quite some time, Dodd had been making frequent trips to visit a certain young woman."
"God, Farlan, why bring this up now?" Dodd asked.
"Dodd's right," Veda said. "The past is the past. What earthly good will it do any of us for you to bare your soul to Brian? Didn't we all do what we did back then to protect him from the truth?"
Farlan nailed her with a furious glance. "Is protecting our son the reason you tried to commit suicide, the reason you threatened to try again if I didn't do exactly as you said?"
Veda clenched her teeth.
"I don't understand what's going on," Max said. "Is this about… about Dinah?"
Veda gasped. She hated the sound of the woman's name.
"Only indirectly," Farlan said. "It's about Dinah's twin daughters."
"Who the hell is Dinah?" Brian asked.
"She was a Knoxville prostitute that I first met when she was barely eighteen," Dodd said. "Dinah was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Your Aunt Beth Ann and I were having marital problems. No real excuse, I know, but… That's neither here nor there. I fell under Dinah's spell, thought I was in love with her."
"And this woman had twins?" Brian asked. "Were they your children, Uncle Dodd?"
No matter how hard she tried, Reve couldn't make herself feel entirely comfortable at Jazzy's Joint. There hadn't been any real trouble since she'd taken over control of the es-tablishment, due in part to the bouncer she'd hired. A real tough looking guy named Brownie, someone her assistant Paul Welby had found for her on very short notice and assured her came highly recommended.
Tonight she was as antsy as the proverbial whore in church-more due to the conversation she'd had with Griffin Powell a few days ago than her discomfort at being out front here at Jaz2y's Joint. She'd hoped Griffin would call with news about Dinah Collins. De-ep inside her was the insane hope that the woman was still alive and had had nothing to do with trying to kill her babies, that she'd be thrilled they were alive and would want to meet them.
And just what were the odds of that happening? Slim to none. Griffin was probably right. Dinah Collins was dead.
"Want a Coke?" Lacy Fallon asked when Reve walked up to the bar.
"A Coke's fine," she said. "In a bottle, please."
Lacy retrieved the drink from the mini-fridge under the bar, snapped off the lid with a bottle opener and handed Reve the icy Coke.
"Are you all right?" Lacy asked.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"No reason really. It's just you seem to be a million miles away tonight. Worrying about Jazzy?"
Reve nodded. "She's got to come out of that coma soon."
"She will. I know Jazzy. She's too tough to let getting her head cracked open keep her down for long."
"Oh, God, Lacy, why did this have to happen? I was just beginning to know Jazzy, starting to like her…"
Lacy looked beyond Reve, her gaze focused on the front door that had just opened and let in a cool puff of night air. "Here comes trouble."
Reve turned in time to see Jacob Butler enter. Now why had Lacy said-Before she finished the thought, Reve saw a curvy little blonde in a pair of skin-tight jeans and a slinky cut-off silk top all but attack Jacob the minute he set foot in Jazzy's Joint.
"Who is she?" Reve asked.
"Mindy Harper. She's one of Jacob's old girlfriends. She's newly divorced and just moved back to Cherokee Pointe. She was asking about him less than half an hour ago."
"Why is she trouble?"
"She's not trouble, except for Jacob. That gal's got an agenda, if you know what I me-an. She intends to rope, hog-tie and brand our sheriff. She all but told me so."
Reve shrugged, doing her best to act as if she didn't care. "It's really none of our business, is it?" Reve watched as Mindy practically dragged Jacob onto the dance floor and wrapped herself around him like a cheap coat. A tight-fitting cheap coat.
"If you could see the look on your face, Reve Sorrell, you'd know why nobody would believe what you just said." Lacy nodded toward the twosome on the dance floor.
"Jacob's having a pretty difficult time right now, what with three unsolved murder cases and Jazzy's attacker still running free. Don't forget that Jacob's just a man, with a man's weaknesses and a man's needs. Mindy will stroke his ego, offer him comfort and understanding and then drag him out of here to the nearest bed, unless you do something to stop her."
"Me?" Reve squeaked the question.
"Yes, you, missy."
"And what could I do to prevent Jacob from-" Reve huffed. "I don't give a damn what Jacob does or who he does it with."
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
"Now's your chance," Lacy said. "Hoot Tompkins just cut m-Go save Jacob while you can."
"I'll do no such thing."
"Doesn't look as if you'll have to." Lacy grinned. "He's coming this way." She leaned over and grabbed Reve's arm. "If he asks you to dance, don't say no. The guy needs rescuing, and you're the one gal who can do it."
"Evening, ladies," Jacob said as he approached the bar.
"Evening, sheriff," Lacy replied. "Want something to drink?"
"A Coke is fine."
Lacy handed him a bottled Coke, then said, "Reve was just saying how she sure would like to dance, that seeing folks having so much fun, she wished she could kick up her heels a bit. It would do her a world of good."
Reve gasped silently, but when Jacob turned to her, she forced a smile.
He held out his hand. "Care to dance?"
"I-uh-" She looked at Lacy, who nodded and mouthed the word yes. "Yes, I'd like to dance."
He kept his hand in the middle of her back as they walked onto the dance floor. Feeling more awkward than she'd felt at her first formal dance when she was fifteen, Reve sucked in a big breath and went right into Jacob's open arms. He kept a couple of inches between their bodies. Thank God!
The jukebox played an old Patsy Cline number, something titled "He Called Me Baby."
The words wove themselves around her, creating images in her mind, thoughts of lying in bed with Jacob and having him call her baby. All night long.
Somehow before she realized it was happening, she was pressed close to Jacob, her body melded with his, her head on his shoulder, his lips in her hair. He moved her slowly around the dance floor, his embrace strong and protective. She'd been afraid it would feel like this in his arms, afraid she'd love having him hold her this way.
The song ended, but Jacob didn't release her, not until Mindy grabbed his arm. He turned to the other woman, one arm still around Reve's waist.
"Hey, big boy, did you forget about me?"
"Nobody ever forgets about you, Mindy."
"Who's she?" Mindy asked.
"This is Reve Sorrell, Jazzy's sister."
Mindy looked Reve over, from head to toe. "I didn't know Jazzy had a sister."
Reve pulled away from Jacob. "If you two will excuse
me, I'll-"
Jacob grabbed her wrist. "Don't run off."
"Hey, what's this? You*re with me tonight, Jacob," Mindy said, then glowered at Reve.
"Get lost, sister. I was here
first."
Reve hated this type of scene. It was so white trash, so totally beneath her.
"He's all yours." Reve jerked free and all but ran toward the bar.
When she paused at the bar, her pulse fast, her nerves unsettled, Lacy looked over Re-ve's shoulder and said, "He's not coming after you. What happened?"
"Mindy laid a claim on Jacob, in no uncertain terms."
"And you let her get away with that?"
"I do not lower myself to squabble over a man with some trashy bleached blonde in a honky-tonk," Reve said.
"Jacob isn't just any man."
"Give me a drink."
"Another Coke?"
"Brandy."
Lacy arched an eyebrow, but hurriedly poured the liquor Reve had requested.
Reve drank the brandy quickly. Too quickly. It burned a path down her throat and hit her belly like a hot potato. She gagged, then coughed several times.
"I'm getting out of here," Reve said. "If anything comes up tonight that you can't handle, I'll be upstairs in Jazzy's apartment."
"Running away won't solve anything," Lacy said. "You'll just spend a sleepless night wondering if Jacob's bonking Mindy."
Reve growled. "Good night, Lacy."
If she didn't get out of here-and fast-she might do some-'hing to embarrass herself, something she'd probably regret.
Without looking back, Reve flung open the front door. A zip of lightning pierced the black night sky. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she ran out of Jazzy's Joint, her only thought to get away from Jacob. Crackling thunder exploded in the distance. Light raindrops dappled her hair and face. By the time she reached the outside stairs leading to Jazzy's apartment, the cold rain was coming down in a heavy torrent, soaking through her pullover cashmere sweater, making her regret leaving her jacket behind in her haste to escape. She patted the right side pocket of her wool slacks and sighed with relief when she felt the door key she'd slipped in there earlier this evening.
The words to the old Patsy Cline song once again playing on the jukebox downstairs echoed in her head. More unwanted images appeared in her mind. Thoughts and feelings inspired by a man she wished she'd never met. Images of moss-green eyes peering into her, through her, reaching her very soul. Images of a thin-lipped, wide mouth curving into a mocking smile.
She hated him! Hated him for making her feel things she'd never felt. Hated him for releasing her most basic, most primitive emotions. Hated him for making her doubt herself, for weakening her strong resolve to always be in control. He seemed to derive a great de-al of pleasure from tormenting her, as if he knew that one piercing look from him made her go weak in the knees. She'd done her best to hide her overwhelming physical attraction to him. Ever since returning to Cherokee Pointe, she had fought an internal battle against her own deep-seated desire for a man totally wrong for her.
For pity's sake, she didn't like him and he didn't like her. They despised each other, didn't they?
Reve stood outside Jazzy's apartment, the rain drenching her, and fumbled in her pants pocket for the door key. Her hand trembled as she tried to insert the key in the lock.
Damn, what was wrong with her? What difference did it make that Jacob Butler was down there in Jazzy's Joint dancing with some floozy? Touching her with those big, hard hands of his. Nuzzling her ear. Whispering sweet nothings.
She dropped the key. It hit the floor and bounced off the stoop onto the first step. Tears clouded her vision.
Get hold of yourself! You 're acting like an idiot. You don't want his hands on you, touching, caressing. You don't want him. You don don't, don't…
From down below, she could still hear music wafting up from Jazzy's Joint. It was that same damn Patsy Cline song playing on the old jukebox. Again. Had Jacob punched in the number one more time? Probably. He must really like that song. Either that or he'd realized the words to that particular song had really gotten to her. It was so like Jacob to ta-unt her. She felt as if that was all he'd been doing since the first moment they met.
I hope when he takes that bleached blond bitch home tonight, he can’t get it up. I hope she laughs in his face.
Yeah, like that would ever happen. She'd bet all her millions that he'd never had a problem getting it up. Not that big, savage stud. Her body tightened at the thought of Jacob's erection. Once again images flashed through her mind. Jacob, naked, aroused, coming toward her.
Another streak of lightning illuminated the night sky, and a boom of thunder warned that the storm was intensifying, coming closer. Reve swallowed hard, then bent over to pick up the house key. But just as she reached for the small key lying on the wet step, a large, dark hand shot out and grabbed the key. Every nerve in Reve's body screamed. She lifted her gaze and looked into a pair of slanted green eyes. Jacob Butler's eyes.
"You shouldn't be standing out here in the rain," he told her. "You're getting all wet."
When he stood to his full six-five height and reached out to wipe the raindrops from her cheek, Reve shivered and acked away from him. Her hips pressed against the railing at surrounded the outer edges of the stoop.
Say something, she told herself. Don't just stand here staring at him like an idiot, trembling like a frightened virgin on the verge of being sacrificed. But her mind went blank.
Her throat tightened.
He reached around her, his arm brushing her side, and inserted the key in the lock, turned the doorknob and opened the door. When she didn't move-couldn't move-he grasped her arm just above her elbow and pulled her to him. Her body stopped just short of touching his, a hairbreadth between them. His mouth twitched in an almost smile.
"Get inside," he told her, his voice a low, deep rumble.
She jerked away from him and rushed into the apartment, her wet feet making moist tracks on the floor.
Please, dear God, make him go away.
"You should get out of those wet clothes." He came up behind her, but didn't touch her.
Nervous, on the verge of hyperventilating, Reve gasped for air. If he touched her, she would die. But on the other hand, if he didn't touch her, she would die.
"Please, let's not do this." Veda looked from Farlan to Dodd and then to Max. "Didn't we all suffer enough thirty years ago? Do we have to open old wounds?"
"I agree." Dodd looked imploringly at Farlan. "I can't understand why you'd-"
"Because I believe that Jazzy Talbot and Reve Sorrell are Dinah's twins," Farlan said.
"When I met Reve Sorrell at the hospital the night Jazzy was attacked, I knew then that she was Dinah's daughter. The resemblance is remarkable."
A deadly hush fell over the room. Max's eyes widened, his expression a combination of shock and fear. Dodd shook his head, denial written plainly on his face.
"I've told Farlan that it's his imagination," Veda said. 'There might be some vague similarities, but that's all. Dinah moved away and took her babies with her thirty years ago.