Beg To Die. BEVERLY BARTONЧитать онлайн книгу.
“She saw someone kill Jamie. She believes it’s a premonition.”
“Who—who did she see kill Jamie? Was it me?”
Jacob reached across the table and took Jazzy’s hand in his. “Are you planning on killing Jamie?”
She jerked her hand away. “No, of course not, but we both know I pulled a gun on him a few months ago. And we both know that, under the right circumstances, I might shoot him.”
“Talk to Genny. Let her do a reading. She doesn’t think you’ll kill Jamie, but she believes that his death will create trouble for you.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? All Jamie Upton has ever been to me is trouble. Apparently he’s trouble for me alive or dead.”
“Stay away from him,” Jacob advised. “And I’ll make sure he stays away from you. I’ll tell Caleb to keep an eye out for you and call me at the first sign of—”
“You think Genny’s premonition is going to come true, don’t you? And you’re afraid she might be wrong and I’ll be the one to kill Jamie.”
When she looked into Jacob’s moss green eyes, she saw the truth before he replied, “Better safe than sorry. No use taking any unnecessary risks.”
Erin Mercer cursed softly under her breath as she headed for the front door of her cabin. What the hell was Jim’s grandson doing knocking on her door? She thought she had made it perfectly clear the last time he’d shown up—unannounced and unwelcome—that she wasn’t buying what he was selling. As far as she was concerned, he was a worrisome brat someone should have disciplined years ago. Before she reached for the doorknob, she paused long enough to fasten the top two buttons on her blouse. No use giving Jamie an excuse to accuse her of trying to look sexy for him. Stupid boy. As if she’d ever be interested in someone as self-centered and immature as he, even with his undeniable youth and good looks. Too many women had fallen for the flashy exterior before discovering the ugliness of the interior man. She’d known his type and, when she’d been younger and foolish, she’d given her heart to someone a great deal like Jamie Upton.
If any other man stood outside her door this morning, she would take the time to check her appearance in the mirror, maybe even dab on a little blush and lipstick. After all, even though she was fifty, she took pride in her appearance and knew most men considered her an attractive woman.
Erin opened the door halfway and glared at the handsome devil standing on her doorstep. “What do you want?” she asked, her tone surly. She’d learned the first time Jim’s grandson showed up at her cabin that he perceived any pleasantness on her part as an open invitation. Nothing would please him more than scoring with his grandfather’s mistress.
“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” As he placed his hand on the door frame, he leaned forward. “If you’d woke up with me beside you, you’d be in a much better mood.”
“It’s early. I’ve had only one cup of coffee. I’m not in the mood for your games. I repeat, what do you want?”
When he moved toward her, she instinctively eased backward, not wanting their bodies to touch. She didn’t trust this man, didn’t feel entirely safe around him. She wasn’t physically afraid of him, because she knew she could handle him, if it came to that. The fear she felt was more basic, a totally emotional response.
Once inside, Jamie headed straight for the living room. Erin huffed, resigned herself to enduring Jamie’s presence for the time being, and shut the door. When she entered her living room, she found him already lounging on her sofa, with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He looked as if he’d been out all night. His tux was wrinkled, his bow tie missing, and his shirt buttoned up wrong. A hint of brown stubble on his pretty boy face gave him a rakish appearance. And that’s what Jamie was all right—a rake. A bona fide, old-fashioned rake. Of course, calling him a rake was a compliment in comparison to the other appropriate names that came to mind.
“I’m getting myself another cup of coffee. Would you care for some?” she asked as she passed through the living room and started toward the kitchen.
“I’ll settle for coffee, but what I’d really like is some tea and sympathy. You know about that, don’t you, Erin? It’s when an older woman takes a younger man into her bed to comfort him.”
Erin paused, but didn’t bother looking back when she said, “My guess is that you’ve spent the night in someone’s bed getting plenty of sympathy or whatever the hell you want to call it. I suggest that if you need more, you return to the generous lady who so willingly gave it to you earlier.”
As she entered the kitchen, she heard him laughing. Damned obnoxious boy. Hurriedly she poured coffee into two mugs and returned to the living room. When she held out a mug for him, he patted the sofa.
“Sit with me.”
She eyed him skeptically and shook her head.
He accepted the coffee. “I promise I won’t bite.”
“No, but I might. I might take a chunk out of that big head of yours and bring it back down to a normal size.”
“You think I’m an egotistical bastard, don’t you?”
“If the shoe fits…”
Erin took a seat opposite him, with the massive square oak cocktail table between them. “I suppose you know you’ll have a great deal of explaining to do when you go home. The whole town is probably buzzing with gossip about your leaving your fiancée alone at your engagement party last night.”
“I stayed for hours. I spoke to everyone, accepted good wishes, presented myself as the dutiful fiancé. I didn’t leave until nearly eleven.”
“You left before half the guests did. How do you think that made your fiancée feel?”
“She knows I’m a cad…and loves me anyway.” Jamie brought the coffee mug to his lips. “Strong and black. Just the way I like it.”
“I feel sorry for Laura. She’s so young and so in love with you. She deserves better. What’s wrong with you, Jamie? Don’t you have any idea how lucky you are? You have grandparents who adore you, all the money you could ever need, and a woman who is devoted to you.”
“Laura’s not the woman I want.” He looked right at Erin, and for a split second she thought she saw genuine emotion in his hazel eyes. Sadness? Regret?
“Then why marry her? If she’s not—”
“It’s Jazzy,” Jamie said. “It’s always been Jazzy. It always will be.”
“Then break off your engagement to Laura and marry Jazzy.”
Jamie laughed, the sound hollow and emotionless. “You’re a good one to talk. You’re my grandfather’s mistress. You know he’ll never divorce Big Mama, yet you hang on to him anyway. Why don’t you demand that he leave his wife and marry you?”
His accusation hit a nerve. Erin winced. “You’re free. Jazzy’s free. There’s nothing to stop y’all from—”
“Big Mama would disown me if I married Jazzy. I’d have nothing. Not a dime to my name. I’d have to give up a fortune. I’m not willing to do that.”
“Then you don’t love Jazzy as much as you profess to love her.”
“What do you know about it? I love her. I’ve loved her since we were teenagers. And just because Big Mama is forcing me to marry Laura doesn’t mean I’m giving up Jazzy.”
“Did you spend the night with Jazzy?”
“I went by