As Good as Dead (6 page)

"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 shithead. 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 buttoned 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 se-ductively 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 sexy way she walked, his penis 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 whore. But it was never the same with another woman. Never as satisfying. He could fuck 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 tits, 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 op-portunity, he'd go back to Knoxville and find himself a willing woman.

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

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 massive 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 asset 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 assured 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 ro-om. 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 ti-me."

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 passing day, Jazzy's memories of Jamie would dim and the time would co-me 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 tobeing 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 God, 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 rebuttal, 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 hell 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?"

"Yes, ma'am. It would please me a great deal. I'd very much like it if the woman I love and my grandmother could get along."

"You-you love her?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do."

"I see."

Jim sat quietly, watching and listening. And apparently waiting to find out what the outcome of this exchange would be.

"You might as well know that sooner or later, I'll wear Jazzy down and she'll agree to marry me." Caleb kept his gaze fixed determinedly on his grandmother's pale face. "And there's nothing anyone can say or do to stop me from making her my wife. Do you understand what I'm saying, Miss Reba?"

"Yes, I understand perfectly."

"I hope you do because I wouldn't want to ever have to choose between you and her.

I've just found you and Big Jim. I'd sure hate to lose you."

"You aren't going to lose me-lose us," Miss Reba said with firm conviction. "I'll telephone Jasmine later today and invite her to Sunday dinner tomorrow."

Grinning, feeling as if he'd won a major battle, Caleb got up, walked over to his grandmother and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you."

Tears glistened in Miss Reba's eyes. Curling her small hand around his arm, she pursed her lips and returned his kiss.

"Oh, by the way, you might want to invite Reve Sorrell, too," Caleb said. "She arrived in Cherokee Pointe earlier today and is going to be staying for a while. Dr. MacNair took DNA samples this morning and sent them off. We should know within a week if Jazzy and Reve are twins."

"That's a mighty peculiar thing," Big Jim said. "Those two gals finding out that they could be sisters. Has Jazzy' questioned her aunt Sally again about the circumstances surrounding her birth?"

"No, not lately, but the old woman has sworn that Jazzy was the only baby born to her sister, Corrine."

"Where is Ms. Sorrell staying?" Reba asked. "Surely nor with Jasmine. I mean, the two hardly know each other and certainly have nothing in common."

Caleb pulled away from his grandmother and returned to his seat. "No, she and Jazzy haven't reached the sisterly bonding point. Yet. Reve is renting a place from Cherokee Cabin Rentals."

"I should invite her to stay here," Reba said and elicited-surprised looks from Caleb and Big Jim.

"Why ever would you do that?" Jim asked.

"Because Ms. Sorrell was a friend of Jamie's. And her parents were part of the same social circle as the Wallaces and the Grambrells. Eileen Wallace and I were sorority sisters. Anna Lee Grambrell and I have served on numerous Republican fund raisers state-wide. And I'm almost certain; that I met Lesley Sorrell not only at a couple of those fund-raisers, but at Eileen's daughter's wedding, too."

"Then by all means, considering how closely our families are connected, you must call Ms. Sorrell immediately and invite her to stay with us." Big Jim chuckled, quite pleased with his own sarcastically humorous assessment of the situation.

"I don't appreciate your facetious comment," Reba told her husband. "I'd be remiss in my duties as a social leader in Cherokee County if I didn't extend an invitation to Ms.

Sorrell." She eyed Caleb quizzically. "Do Reve Sorrell and Jasmine Talbot look just ali-ke?"

Caleb grinned. "Yes, except for a few superficial differences. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." Reba sighed, then a genuine smile spread across her face. "I'll telephone Jasmine and invite her and Ms. Sorrell to join us for Sunday dinner. Tomorrow, when they're here, I'll issue Ms. Sorrell an invitation to stay with us. I'm sure she'll find living here preferable to staying in one of those dinky little cabins. A lady of her breeding must find roughing it quite intolerable."