Authors: Beverly Barton
Reve jer-ked away from him and plan-ted her hands on her hips. "Do you ha-ve any idea who I am?"
"Nope. I don't ha-ve the fog-gi-est idea of who you are, ex-cept that you're the spit-ting ima-ge of a lady much ni-cer than you are, by the na-me of Jaz-zy Tal-bot. And I su-re ho-pe for Jaz-zy's sa-ke that you aren't so-me long-lost co-usin or so-met-hing."
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"Is every man in Che-ro-kee Co-unty a fri-end of Jaz-zy Tal-bot's?" The mi-nu-te the qu-es-ti-on left her lips, Re-ve wis-hed it back. Damn, now this in-fu-ri-ating man wo-uld re-ali-ze she knew who Jaz-zy was. So much for her es-ca-ping Che-ro-kee Po-in-te and any com-p-li-ca-ti-ons from her in-qu-iri-es abo-ut Jaz-zy.
He eyed he skep-ti-cal-ly. "I tho-ught you sa-id you we-re just pas-sing thro-ugh."
"I was. I am. And just as so-on as we cle-ar up this mess abo-ut my spe-eding and abo-ut the ac-ci-dent, I plan to be on my way. The so-oner I see the last of Che-ro-kee Po-in-te, Jaz-zy Tal-bot, and you-, the bet-ter." 'Then just shut up, get in the damn truck, and I'll do my le-vel best to see that you get what you want!"
She lo-ved that he was ro-ugh with her, hur-ting her just eno-ugh to ma-ke it ex-ci-ting, to ma-ke her he-art po-und fas-ter and her pussy drip with mo-is-tu-re. He wasn't li-ke any lo-ver she'd ever had and des-pi-te be-ing only twenty- her next bir-t-h-day in a few mon-t-hs-she'd al-re-ady scre-wed at le-ast two do-zen guys, in-c-lu-ding her high scho-ol his-tory te-ac-her and a de-acon in the-ir church.
What she lo-ved abo-ut Jamie was his sen-se of ad-ven-tu-re, his wil-lin-g-ness to ta-ke a risk. They we-re kin-d-red so-uls. Why the hell he wan-ted to marry her sis-ter she'd ne-ver fi-gu-re out. She was a far bet-ter match for him. La-ura wo-uld ne-ver dre-am of do-ing what she was do-ing. She'd ne-ver me-et her sis-ter's fi-ancé at the stab-les in the mid-dle of the mor-ning, strip buck na-ked, and fuck the guy's bra-ins out in one of the empty stalls whe-re an-y-body might co-me up on them. No, not swe-et La-ura. She was far too shy and sen-si-ti-ve, much too much of a Go-ody Two-sho-es to ever be ab-le to sa-tisfy a man li-ke Jamie Up-ton, who had all sorts of dirty, wic-ked de-si-res.
It was that chan-ce of dis-co-very he-re in the stab-les that he-ig-h-te-ned the ten-si-on and ga-ve her a cli-max only se-conds af-ter he first ram-med him-self in-si-de her.
"Harder," she de-man-ded. "And fas-ter."
He lif-ted her hips and del-ved de-eply, then wit-h-d-rew. Just be-fo-re he star-ted jac-k-ham-me-ring in-to her, he bit her sho-ul-der. Bit her hard eno-ugh that she cri-ed out in pa-in. But she lo-ved the pa-in. She felt it in every fi-ber of her be-ing. Every mus-c-le. Every ner-ve. God, she wis-hed he was big-ger, wis-hed every thrust bro-ught the ple-asu-rab-le pa-in that she cra-ved. But he was big eno-ugh, hard eno-ugh, and wild eno-ugh to gi-ve her anot-her or-gasm. It was bu-il-ding now, her body tig-h-te-ning, the sen-sa-ti-on in-c-re-asing with each mil-li-se-cond that pas-sed. She buc-ked up aga-inst him, en-co-ura-ging him to hold back not-hing. She wan-ted to co-me aga-in be-fo-re he did-or at le-ast by the ti-me he did. She wan-ted it to be so fi-er-ce and hot that the top of her he-ad wo-uld co-me off. It had be-en that way the first ti-me they'd hid-den in her clo-set at her pa-rents'
ho-use and to-re at each ot-her li-ke a co-up-le of ani-mals.
"Damn, girl, you're wild," Jamie told her as he in-c-re-ased his mo-ve-ments to a fre-ne-tic pa-ce.
When he gro-aned de-ep in his thro-at, she knew he was fi-xing to spew in-to her. Her pu-bic lips swel-led even mo-re and mo-is-tu-re gus-hed out of her. And the very se-cond he burst in-si-de her, she un-wo-und li-ke crazy. Scre-aming with re-le-ase, she cla-wed at his back, still co-ve-red by his whi-te
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tu-xe-do shirt. Whi-le the af-ter-s-hocks rip-pled thro-ugh them, he col-lap-sed on top of her, then rol-led over and on-to his si-de. She pur-red li-ke the sa-tis-fi-ed kit-ten she was, then ro-se up over him just eno-ugh to lick a wet tra-il from his right sho-ul-der to his na-vel.
"You want to lick me cle-an, don't you, you lit-tle she cat?" Jamie grab-bed her he-ad and sho-ved her fa-ce aga-inst his pe-nis. "Do it, dar-lin'. Get a go-od tas-te of me."
She strug-gled aga-inst his hold, but he was big-ger and stron-ger and she co-uldn't es-ca-pe.
She-ri-dan Wil-lis grow-led, ba-red her te-eth and ope-ned her mo-uth. She co-uld bi-te him. Bi-te him hard. That's what he de-ser-ved. But, God, it wo-uld be such a sha-me to put him out of com-mis-si-on, even tem-po-ra-rily. She lic-ked her lips, then pla-ced her ton-gue on the tip of his sticky, def-la-ted sex and lic-ked off the mix-tu-re of the-ir com-bi-ned ju-ices.
Chapter 5
"She's in-sa-ne even to con-si-der go-ing thro-ugh with the mar-ri-age," An-d-rea Wil-lis told her hus-band in the pri-vacy of the-ir gu-est qu-ar-ters at the Up-ton ho-me.
When La-ura had told them at lunch to-day that Jamie had ex-p-la-ined-to her sa-tis-fac-ti-on-abo-ut his sud-den ab-sen-ce from the en-ga-ge-ment party last night and that the wed-ding was de-fi-ni-tely on, ever-yo-ne se-emed as shoc-ked as the bri-de's pa-rents. Al-t-ho-ugh a swe-et, so-me-ti-mes even do-ci-le child, La-ura had al-ways be-en dif-fi-cult to un-der-s-tand. God knew An-d-rea had tri-ed to bond with the-ir el-dest child, but it had pro-ved an im-pos-sib-le task. Of co-ur-se she lo-ved La-ura.
Who wo-uldn't5 But ha-ving to de-al with the girl's on-go-ing emo-ti-onal and men-tal prob-lems of-ten pro-ved too much for An-d-rea.
"Never, ever use the word in-sa-ne when you re-fer to La-ura!" Ce-cil Wil-lis glo-we-red me-na-cingly at his wi-fe, his lightly tan-ned fa-ce splot-c-hing with co-lor.
Andrea felt her-self pa-le as she re-ali-zed why he had got-ten so up-set over her use of the word in-sa-ne. Most of the ti-me she didn't think abo-ut that re-ason, preferring to wi-sely let the past stay bu-ri-ed, but ap-pa-rently the past sel-dom left her hus-band's mind. Es-pe-ci-al-ly not whe-re La-ura was con-cer-ned.
"Cecil, I did not me-an to imply that La-ura is ac-tu-al-ly crazy, the way… La-ura's just emo-ti-onal-ly fra-gi-le. She's a true pu-reb-red, li-ke her fat-her." An-d-rea pat-ted her hus-band's sho-ul-der so-ot-hingly. "All I me-ant by my re-mark is that I find it in-com-p-re-hen-sib-le that she'd ac-tu-al-ly marry Jamie kno-wing he went to anot-her wo-man the very night of the-ir en-ga-ge-ment party. Not when the en-ti-re town knows whe-re he was."
"I in-tend to talk to her, but I do-ubt it will do much go-od. I'm af-ra-id if I for-bid her to marry him, it will only ma-ke mat-ters wor-se. She's be-en do-ing so well the-se past few ye-ars. I'm af-ra-id if I press the is-sue, she might ha-ve a bre-ak-down aga-in."
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"We're de-fi-ni-tely in a dif-fi-cult si-tu-ati-on," An-d-rea ag-re-ed. "If we for-bid her to marry him, it might push her over the ed-ge. But we both know that if she mar-ri-es him, so-oner or la-ter his phi-lan-de-ring ways will des-t-roy her emo-ti-onal-ly."
"If this was anot-her cen-tury, I co-uld call the bas-tard out, chal-len-ge him to a du-el, and kill him,"
Ce-cil sa-id.
So li-ke her hus-band to con-si-der a on-ce le-gal so-lu-ti-on to pro-tec-ting one's ho-nor and ac-qu-iring jus-ti-ce when a fa-mily mem-ber had be-en wron-ged. Ce-cil was an old-fas-hi-oned So-ut-hern gen-t-le-man to his very co-re. Ge-ne-ra-ti-ons of go-od bre-eding went in-to ma-king that kind of man, just as ge-ne-ra-ti-ons of go-od bre-eding pro-du-ced the Ken-tucky Der-by-win-ning tho-ro-ug-h-b-reds the Wil-lis Farm pro-du-ced.
"If I tho-ught kil-ling Jamie Up-ton wo-uld sol-ve the prob-lem, then I'd lo-ad the gun and hand it to you."
Andrea sig-hed. "But we know what his de-ath wo-uld do to our La-ura."
Something aler-ted An-d-rea that they we-ren't alo-ne. She wasn't su-re if she'd he-ard the do-or open or not, but when she glan-ced at the thres-hold, she saw her da-ug-h-ter She-ri-dan stan-ding the-re. Be-a-uti-ful, vi-va-ci-o-us She-ri-dan, with her big brown eyes and ches-t-nut brown ha-ir so li-ke An-d-rea's own. Her baby girl was a wild hel-li-on, but as men-tal-ly stab-le as they ca-me. No tem-per tan-t-rums. No crying jags. No emo-ti-onal bre-ak-downs. She-ri-dan was ma-de of to-ugh stuff. And li-ke her mot-her, when she saw so-met-hing she wan-ted, she re-ac-hed out and grab-bed it.
"Whose de-ath are you re-fer-ring to?" She-ri-dan as-ked.
"How long ha-ve you be-en stan-ding the-re, yo-ung lady?" Ce-cil frow-ned at his da-ug-h-ter.
"Long eno-ugh to know that you two we-re dis-cus-sing mur-de-ring Jamie Up-ton."
"We we-re do-ing no such thing," An-d-rea told her.
"He is a to-tal bas-tard, isn't he?" She-ri-dan grin-ned. "And much too much man for our swe-et La-ura."
"Despite the fact that we all ag-ree on Up-ton's un-wor-t-hi-ness, it do-esn't al-ter the fact that La-ura's in lo-ve with him," Ce-cil sa-id. "I had so ho-ped she wo-uld find a ni-ce yo-ung man, so-me-one who wo-uld ap-pre-ci-ate her and-"
"And ta-ke ca-re of her," She-ri-dan fi-nis-hed her fat-her's sen-ten-ce.
"Yes," Ce-cil rep-li-ed sadly. "So-me-one who wo-uld ta-ke ca-re of her."
"She do-esn't ne-ed a hus-band for that, Daddy. Not when you do such a gre-at job of it yo-ur-self."
"Sheridan, don't start with that non-sen-se," An-d-rea war-ned. Sin-ce chil-d-ho-od, She-ri-dan had be-en je-alo-us of Ce-cil's re-la-ti-on-s-hip with La-ura, and no mat-ter how much she tri-ed to per-su-ade the-ir yo-un-ger da-ug-h-ter that her fat-her lo-ved her just as much as he did La-ura, she re-fu-sed to be-li-eve it.
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Cecil lo-oked ple-adingly at She-ri-dan. "You know full well that La-ura ne-eds-"
"Oh, yes, I know. La-ura ne-eds mo-re at-ten-ti-on. La-ura ne-eds mo-re lo-ve. La-ura ne-eds mo-re pra-ise. La-ura ne-eds ever-y-t-hing and I ne-ed not-hing. So that's what you've gi-ven me, Daddy, ab-so-lu-tely not-hing."
"That isn't true and you know it." Ce-cil re-ac-hed out for She-ri-dan, but she easily si-des-tep-ped him. "Swe-et-he-art, I've ado-red you sin-ce the day you we-re born. I've al-ways be-en pro-ud of you for be-ing such a bright, strong, com-pe-tent yo-ung lady." 'That's me all right. Strong and com-pe-tent.
And what has it got-ten me? Not yo-ur ti-me and at-ten-ti-on. If I'd be-en mo-re li-ke La-ura-mo-re emo-ti-onal-ly and men-tal-ly un-s-tab-le-may-be you'd ha-ve pa-id at-ten-ti-on to me."
"Don't ever re-fer to yo-ur sis-ter as men-tal-ly un-s-tab-le!" Ce-cil bel-lo-wed.
"Why not? That's what she is, and we all know it. She's had mo-re than one ner-vo-us bre-ak-down.
My big sis-ter is lo-oney tu-nes, and that's a fact."
Cecil Wil-lis lif-ted his hand to stri-ke his da-ug-h-ter. An-d-rea step-ped bet-we-en him and She-ri-dan just in ti-me to pre-vent di-sas-ter. Re-ali-zing what he'd be-en abo-ut to do, Ce-cil drop-ped his hand to his si-de and hung his he-ad.
Andrea tur-ned to She-ri-dan. 'Yo-ur fat-her is over-w-ro-ught. He wo-uld ne-ver stri-ke you. We're both very con-cer-ned abo-ut La-ura mar-rying this ter-rib-le yo-ung man."
"Would you be so wor-ri-ed if I we-re the one mar-rying him?"
"Yes, of co-ur-se we wo-uld be. What a silly thing to ask."
"Mm-hmm. Well, don't worry, Mot-her. Af-ter La-ura mar-ri-es Jamie and has a se-ve-re ner-vo-us bre-ak-down wit-hin six months, you and Daddy can pick up the pi-eces and try to put Hum-p-ty-La-ura to-get-her aga-in."
Before An-d-rea co-uld reply, She-ri-dan whir-led aro-und and left the ro-om.
"We've fa-iled both of them," Ce-cil sa-id. "And it's all my fa-ult."
Andrea put her arm aro-und her hus-band's slen-der wa-ist and hug-ged him. She lo-ved this man mo-re than an-y-t-hing on earth. The-re had ne-ver be-en an-yo-ne el-se for her.
"You didn't fa-il them. You're a go-od fat-her to both of yo-ur da-ug-h-ters."
No, Ce-cil wasn't at fa-ult
, An-d-rea tho-ught.
All the bla-me lay el-sew-he-re, with a wo-man
long de-ad. A wo-man res-pon-sib-le for all the he-ar-tac-he the-ir fa-mily had en-du-red.
"Am I free to go?" Re-ve as-ked She-riff But-ler, who had de-ta-ined her for ne-arly three ho-urs at the she-rif-fs de-par-t-ment, lo-ca-ted on the first flo-or of the Che-ro-kee Co-unty co-ur-t-ho-use. Of
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co-ur-se, be-ing a res-pon-sib-le of-fi-cer of the law, he'd ta-ken her by the lo-cal hos-pi-tal's ER
be-fo-re drag-ging her he-re. Just as a pre-ca-uti-on, he'd told her. Mo-re to hu-mi-li-ate her, she'd de-ci-ded. This big mo-ron had ta-ken it upon him-self to try to bring "Miss High and Mighty" down a peg or two. Whi-le she'd be-en twid-dling her thumbs wa-iting for him to re-le-ase her, she'd over-he-ard him say tho-se very words to one of his de-pu-ti-es.
"Why are you in such a big hurry to le-ave our fa-ir city?" But-ler as-ked her. "You might gi-ve us the idea you don't think much of our town or of us."
"I don't think an-y-t-hing one way or the ot-her abo-ut you, this town, or the en-ti-re ci-ti-zenry."
"Citizenry? That's one of them fi-ve-hun-d-red-dol-lar words that you le-arn in col-le-ge, ain't it?"
The two de-pu-ti-es on duty-Bob-by Joe Har-te and Tim Wil-lin-g-ham-chuc-k-led, but had the de-cency to lo-ok em-bar-ras-sed when she gla-red at them. The two men had be-en sta-ring at her sin-ce the mo-ment the she-riff es-cor-ted her in-to the co-ur-t-ho-use. With ab-so-lu-tely no tact, they'd as-ked her right out if she was Jaz-zy's long-lost sis-ter. She'd rep-li-ed, "Do-es this Jaz-zy per-son ha-ve a long-lost sis-ter?"
Reve cros-sed her arms over her chest as she fo-cu-sed her at-ten-ti-on on the she-riff. "If you've had yo-ur fun for the day, then just let me be on my way to the ne-arest car ren-tal pla-ce, and I pro-mi-se that you will ne-ver see me aga-in."