BEVERLY BARTON - Beg To Die

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 to see her.”

“And she turned you away.”

“You’re wrong. She didn’t…” With his mug surrounded by both hands, Jamie leaned forward and held it between his spread thighs. He glanced at Erin. “She didn’t let me stay, so I found a more willing lady, who shall remain nameless. After all, I don’t kiss and tell. You might want to remember that for future reference.”

“I don’t think so.”

Erin sipped on her coffee, finishing it off quickly. Why was Jamie really here? Why was he using her as a sounding board? As his mother confessor? It wasn’t as if they were friends. She didn’t even like him, and she wouldn’t give him the time of day if he wasn’t Jim’s grandson. Unless he was a complete fool—which he wasn’t—he had to know that she’d never have sex with him. Even if she wasn’t in love with Big Jim, she wouldn’t be crazy enough to become involved with Jamie. Any way you looked at it, he was bad news.

Jamie placed his cup on a coaster atop the cocktail table, then stood and went straight to Erin. Before she realized his intent, he dropped to his knees in front of her, grabbed her by the back of her neck and hauled her forward, just far enough to kiss her. He took her mouth demandingly. For a millisecond she froze, shocked by the unexpected assault. Then total awareness hit her. Her empty mug slipped out of her hand and hit the wooden floor with a splintering crash. She slipped her hand between their bodies and gave him a hard shove. He reeled backward and fell flat on his butt.

He looked up at her and grinned. “Now tell me that wasn’t better than what you get from the old man.”

“Your grandfather is twice the man you are—in every way. Now, get your sorry ass up off my floor and leave. I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing with me this morning, but I’m not interested. If I thought for one minute that I could help you…for Jim’s sake, I would. But I think you’re beyond help.”

Jamie jumped to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. “Walk me to the door, darlin’.”

“You know the way out.”

“How about a good-bye kiss?”

“How about getting the hell out of my sight?”

“Now, sweet thing, don’t be that way.”

“Leave. Now!”

He winked at her, then sauntered out of the living room. She followed him and stood several feet away as he opened the front door. Before he left, he turned to her and said, “I’m going to accidently mention to my grandfather that I was with you this morning, sharing coffee, kissing…”

“You bastard!”

“I’d like to be able to tell the old son of a bitch that I’d screwed you, but I can imply as much and he might believe me. After all, if he asks you if I was here this morning, you won’t lie to him, will you?”

Whistling as he walked toward his Mercedes, Jamie acted like a man who didn’t have a care in the world, as if there weren’t dozens of women who’d like to put a stake through his black heart. After getting inside the car, he lowered the window and blew Erin a kiss. As he backed out of the drive, she heard him laughing.

She should probably call Jim and tell him what had happened. Forewarn him. She wouldn’t even bother if it wasn’t for the fact that because of the difference in their ages, Jim wasn’t as confident about their relationship as she was. God damn it, she hated to relay this incident to Jim, knowing how upset he’d be with Jamie. The boy, who should have been Jim’s pride and joy, was an utter disappointment to him. A part of Erin wished she was still young enough to give Jim a child, even if at seventy-five he might not live to see the child grow up. But she was past the age of motherhood and Jim would probably laugh at the notion. Too bad he didn’t have other grandchildren, at least one worthy of a man like Big Jim Upton.