Reba met Dodd at an out-of-the-way restaurant in Sevierville, hoping they would go unnoticed in the rush of tourists who flocked to the mountains in October, filling hotels, motels and restaurants to capacity. While sitting in her car, waiting for Dodd to arrive, she’d watched the flow of customers arriving and leaving and had felt terribly conspicuous even though no one paid any attention to her. By the time Dodd arrived, exactly at seven-thirty, she was a nervous wreck. How on earth had Jim been able to handle all his affairs, all those clandestine meetings with one mistress after another, not to mention the numerous one-night stands he’d probably had over the years? The answer, of course, was crystal clear. Jim hadn’t been burdened by enormous feelings of guilt, while she, on the other hand, had a conscience that bothered her greatly. After all, she was a married woman doing the one thing that she had condemned her husband for doing repeatedly during their long, unhappy marriage.
Dodd reached across the table and clasped Reba’s hand. Her first instinct was to jerk away from him. After all, they were in a public place. But their booth was at the back of the large restaurant, and no one was particularly interested in an old couple they probably assumed had been married to each other for ages.
“What’s wrong?” Dodd asked. “You’re a million miles away.”
She looked at him and smiled. Such a dear man. Gentle and kind. And loving in a way Jim had never been. When Dodd merely held her hand, as he was doing now, and gazed tenderly into her eyes, she felt his love for her. In the early years of their marriage, Jim had been an attentive lover and the sex had been quite good. Incredibly good. But all that had changed when Jim, Jr., and Melanie were preschoolers and she had learned about Jim’s affair with his then secretary, a woman whose name Reba couldn’t even remember now. That woman had simply been the first in a long line of women who had paraded in and out of Jim’s life. After that first incident, every time Jim touched her, Reba had cringed, but she’d done her wifely duty and submitted to her husband’s sexual needs. But in time, he’d come to her less and less until finally she had requested that they no longer share the same bed. He had protested at first, but eventually he’d moved into a different room. And not once had they ever discussed that decision or the reason that had prompted it.
“Reba!” Dodd called her name loud enough to gain her full attention.
“Oh, Dodd, I’m sorry. My mind really is wandering.”
“What’s the problem? Is there something I can do to help?”
She squeezed his hand, then eased her hand away and slipped it back into her lap. “Caleb brought Jasmine and Ms. Sorrell to Sunday dinner yesterday.” Caleb marrying Jasmine Talbot was a problem, but it wasn’t what she’d been thinking about. How could she explain to Dodd that she needed a firm commitment from him before she decided whether or not to end her marriage of more than fifty years? “Caleb has asked Jasmine to marry him and she’s accepted. They want a December wedding. And Jim has forbidden me to do anything to interfere. He’s afraid that unless we support Caleb’s marriage to that woman, we’ll lose him.”
“I understand how you feel about Jazzy Talbot,” Dodd said. “And I hate to agree with Jim, but—”
“She’s so unsuitable. She’s poorly educated, has no social skills whatsoever and God only knows how many men she’s slept with since she was sixteen and tried to trap Jamie into marrying her by getting pregnant.”
“Women like Jazzy have a strange kind of power over men. They can make us act like fools, do the unthinkable, betray our—” Dodd stopped mid-sentence, his face solemn, his eyes misted with tears.
“Dodd?” Reba stared at him, not liking what she was thinking. He spoke as if he knew from personal experience what a bad woman could do to a man. No, absolutely not! She refused to believe that Dodd—her sweet, gentle Dodd—would have ever been involved with a woman like that.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He swallowed several times and refused to make eye contact with her. “I didn’t mean to…Now isn’t the time.”
Reba’s pulse quickened. Guilt was written all over Dodd’s face. She couldn’t believe it, but the truth was there in his expression. “Please tell me that you didn’t…I thought you loved Beth Ellen more than anything. I thought you two were very happy.”
With his head hung in shame, Dodd responded. “I did love her. More than life itself. And we had a good marriage, a happy marriage, until the day she died.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“Please, can’t we let this go…for now?”
“How can I let it go? If you were unfaithful to your wife, then I have a right to know.”
“Yes, you do have a right to know. And I intended to tell you, but just not tonight.”
Every nerve in Reba’s body tensed. “Tell me. Make me understand.”
“It was years ago. I was young and stupid. So stupid.”
“You had a mistress?” Was Dodd really no different from Jim? Were all men lying, cheating whoremongers?
“No!” He looked at her then, his gaze begging her for understanding. “It was over thirty years ago. Beth Ellen had found out she could never have a child and she lost interest in…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “…sex. It had been over six months since we’d…I was a young, healthy man. I wanted my wife, but she wouldn’t let me touch her.”
“So you found another woman who would let you touch her.” Despite her best efforts, Reba couldn’t keep the disappointment and disapproval out of her voice.
“I’m ashamed of what I did. I—I went to Knoxville.” Dodd hurriedly scanned the tables and booths nearest them, then, keeping his voice low, continued his explanation. “I went through an escort service.”
“Are you talking about—?” Reba couldn’t bring herself to say the word aloud.
“I went to Knoxville almost weekly and used the services of prostitutes for nearly a year. At first there were different women, but then…” He hung his head again.
“Then what?”
Slowly lifting his head, he looked directly at Reba. His eyes were filled with heavy tears. “I became infatuated with one girl in particular.”
“Define infatuated.”
“At the time, I thought I was in love with her.”
Reba felt as if someone had hit her in the stomach and knocked the air out of her.
“Did—did Beth Ellen ever know?” Or was she luckier than I’ve been? Reba thought. Maybe Dodd’s wife never knew about the prostitutes or about that one prostitute in particular. Sometimes Reba wished she’d never known about Jim’s other women. What was that old saying? Ignorance is bliss.
“Yes, Beth Ellen knew. I told her. I confessed everything and begged her to forgive me.”
“And she did.”
Dodd nodded. “I never betrayed her again. I swear. And I’d never betray you, Reba. I’m very much in love with you. You must know—”
Reba held up her hand to stop him. “Please, don’t say any more. Not tonight. I—I need time to think. I’m going to leave now. Please don’t call me. When I’m ready to see you again, ready to talk, I’ll call you.”
When she slid out of the booth, Dodd stood and they faced each other for several moments. She knew he wanted to put his arms around her, to touch her, but she stood stiffly, her body language warning him to keep his distance.
“While you’re thinking, consider this—I love you,” he told her. “I want more than an affair with you.”
“More than an affair?”
“Yes, I want you to divorce Jim and marry me.”
A light-headed giddiness exploded inside Reba, like candy gushing from a busted pinata. “You want to marry me?”
“I realize I’m not as wealthy as Jim, that I can’t offer you quite as much materially, but—”
She covered his lips with her index finger. He hushed immediately.
“I’ll call you soon.”
When she turned and walked away, he didn’t come after her, but she felt his gaze on her until she was out of his sight. Once in the parking lot, she paused long enough to catch her breath, then dug her keys from her leather purse and hurried to her Mercedes.
This certainly wasn’t the way she’d thought her evening would end. Not in a million years would she have guessed that Dodd would confess a thirty-year-old indiscretion or that he would ask her to marry him. What was she going to do? Could she get past his infidelity to Beth Ellen? Did she trust him enough to believe what he’d said? And if she did believe him, did she love him enough to divorce Jim? Could she actually give up the power and prestige of being Mrs. James Upton?
Jazzy rode him hard. Sweat glistened on her body. She was on fire. Hot and wild.
Caleb suckled one of her breasts while he tormented the nipple of her other breast between his thumb and forefinger. The tension between her thighs built higher and tighter as he caressed her naked buttocks. Her climax blasted through her like dynamite, shattering her into a million pieces of pure pleasure. While she was still convulsing, Caleb flipped her onto her back and hammered into her. When he came, he groaned and writhed, then buried his face in her shoulder.
While the remnants of her orgasm still shuddered through her, Jazzy eased out from under him and lifted the sheet and quilt to cover them. Caleb nuzzled her ear.
“Don’t go to sleep. Not yet,” he mouthed against her earlobe.
She groaned. “It’s after midnight, honey, and—”
He kissed her, then flung back the covers and got out of bed.
“I’d have done this sooner, but Reve was here for supper and then she went with us to work and later I got sidetracked by other things.” He grinned at Jazzy, then winked.
With the light from the bathroom casting a long, broad path of illumination into the bedroom, Jazzy was able to enjoy the sight of Caleb in all his naked glory. He went into the bathroom, left the door open and turned on the sink faucets.
“What are you doing?” She sat up in bed and crisscrossed her legs at the ankles.
He removed the condom, tossed it into the wastepaper basket and then washed himself. After wrapping a towel around his waist, he emerged from the bathroom, but didn’t come back to bed. Instead he headed out of the room.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
He paused, whipped off the towel and tossed it to her. “Wait and see.”
Laughing, she grabbed the towel in midair.
He went into the living room, but returned in less than a minute, his leather jacket in his hand. She watched impatiently while he fumbled in his coat pocket. When he pulled out a tiny white box, she sucked in her breath. Oh, my God! Was that what she thought it was?
He came toward her, grinning like a cat who’d just swallowed a canary. She had to stop herself from jumping up and throwing her arms around him. Instead, she narrowed her gaze and gave him a dramatic cross look.
He sat on the edge of the bed, opened the box and removed a tiny black jeweler’s case. “I went to Knoxville this afternoon and bought something for you.” He held out the case.
Jazzy’s hands trembled. Honest-to-God trembled. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was. Or how excited. She took the case, flipped open the lid and gasped. Merciful goodness, what a rock!
“Caleb!”
“Like it?”
“Like it?” Clutching the open case in her hand, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. The force of her attack sent them both reeling. Caleb tumbled backward, off the bed and onto the floor. Falling with him, Jazzy landed on top of him. As they lay there laughing, their bodies entwined, Jazzy spread kisses all over his face.
“It’s got to be the biggest, shiniest, most beautiful diamond ring in the world,” Jazzy told him.
“Three carats, square cut,” he said.
She slid off to his side, held up the box and snatched the ring from its bed. Holding it up to look at it again, she shook her head. “How on earth did you afford such an expensive—” She froze, then glared at him, her smile vanishing quickly when she realized that the only way he could have gotten the money to buy such an extravagant ring was to have asked his grandfather for it. “You didn’t have to buy me something so expensive. I would have been happy with something you could have bought without going to Big Jim for the money.”
Caleb sat up, then pulled her up beside him and took the ring from her. Before she realized his intent, he grabbed her left hand. She considered pulling away from him, but when she saw the determination in his eyes, she let him slip the ring onto her finger.
“Let’s get something straight right now,” he said. “I know you love me just for me. I’ve got no doubts about that. But I am Jim Upton’s only heir, and someday I’ll be a fucking millionaire and therefore, as my wife, you will be, too. Why shouldn’t I borrow the money from Big Jim to buy the woman I love the kind of ring she deserves, the kind of ring that will make her happy?”
She stared at him and saw the truth staring back at her. She did love Caleb with all her heart. More than she’d loved Jamie? Most definitely. And in a way she’d never thought possible.
With tears clouding her vision, she lifted her left hand and held it up toward the light coming from the bathroom. When her tears fell onto her cheeks, Caleb brushed them away with his fingertips. She gazed at the ring.
“It’s just a little bit gaudy.” She laughed. “And it’s so perfect for me.”
“Then I did big?” he asked.
Jazzy lifted his arm and slid it around her shoulders, then cuddled against him. “Oh, yes, Mr. McCord, you did big.”
“I made you happy?”
She gazed lovingly into his eyes. “Don’t you know that you always make me happy? That just being with you makes me happy, that our making love makes me happy, that showering together and eating together and—”
He kissed her right in the middle of her grand declaration. And that made her happy, too. Life was good. Almost too good to be true.
Max Fennel eased out of bed, doing his best not to wake his wife. He’d gone to bed at eleven, but hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Ever since having lunch at Jasmine’s today with Wade Truman, he’d been wondering about the comment the district attorney had made about Becky Olmstead. He didn’t know if Wade had even realized he’d let something confidential slip. At least, Max assumed it was confidential since not one word of it had been in any of the news reports. The young prostitute’s murder was the main topic of conversation not only at the restaurant, but in Cherokee County, and it was front-page news in the Herald. Even the local TV station had announced that a special documentary was being prepared on Becky. Speculation was running high about another serial killer being on the loose and no one being safe, especially not pretty young women.
Max had known Wade all his life. He’d been friends of a sort with Wade’s father, a state senator, and had once met Wade’s grandfather, who’d been a federal judge. The Truman family, though not wealthy by MacKinnon or Upton standards, was well off and socially prominent. With his all-American good looks—sandy brown hair and sky blue eyes—his family’s backing and using the DA’s office as a stepping stone, it was only a matter of time before young Truman ran for governor. On more than one occasion, Farlan had hinted at what the future held for Wade.
Being honest with himself as he slipped into his house shoes and donned his blue silk robe, Max admitted that a part of him was jealous of Wade Truman. After all, it hadn’t been that many years ago when he’d been the political golden boy, with a bright future. Before he’d let his penchant for sweet young things destroy all his hopes and dreams and plans. One little bitch who’d gone crying to her daddy had ended all of Max’s political aspirations. Oh, Farlan had taken care of things. He’d pulled strings and kept Max out of prison and had paid off the fifteen-year-old’s daddy, who’d come after Max with a shotgun. So maybe his envy of Wade’s bright future colored his opinion of the man, even elicited suspicion.
Max made his way downstairs, not turning on a light until he was in his study. As he poured whiskey into a glass, his hand shook. Damn it, he had to get control of himself. He shouldn’t let what was probably an innocent comment rattle him this way. Wade Truman didn’t know a damn thing about what had happened all those years ago. There was no way he could know. He’d been just a kid at the time.
Max downed the liquor—straight. He coughed and wheezed several times before tossing back another slug. He shuddered as the whiskey slid down his throat and hit his belly.
He owed everything he had to Farlan. His law degree, this fine house he lived in, the respect he had in the community. His cousin had been good to him, better than he deserved. He never wanted anyone, least of all Farlan, to know what he’d done.
Max poured another drink, sat in his weathered leather chair by the windows and drank the second glass slowly. He could hear Wade’s voice in his head.
“It seems that Becky Olmstead was a looker,” Wade had said earlier that day over at Jasmine’s. “Big tits, bright red hair and a face like an angel. Not many men could resist that kind of temptation, especially not when it was on sale so cheap. I guess it’s no secret that I’ve got a thing for redheads. Hell, even my ex was a redhead.” That was about the time Brian and Farlan had entered the restaurant. Wade had winked at Max and added, “But I know I’m not the only man in these parts who’s partial to redheads.”
Max shivered. It had been an off-hand remark that meant nothing. And that was all it had been. He was worrying himself silly for nothing, losing a good night’s sleep because Wade had implied—Implied what exactly? That he wasn’t the only man who had a thing for redheads.
Dammit, Max Fennel, don’t do this to yourself. There was no way in hell that Wade Truman could possibly know anything about Dinah.