Cold Hearted (13 page)

“Jordan is no more capable of murder than I am,” Ryan had said. “She is one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. Believe me, she did not kill Dan. And if any of the other men in Jordan’s life were murdered, you’ll have to look elsewhere because someone else killed them.”

So, here Rick was, coming back to Price Manor and back to square one in the investigation. Could someone like Ryan Price who had known Jordan for several years be totally wrong about her? Wouldn’t he be a better judge of the woman’s character than Rick, who had met her only a few days ago?

But evidence was evidence.

Yeah, but exactly what evidence did he have against Jordan? Totally circumstantial, just as Haley had said.

Was it possible that the deaths of the four other men weren’t murder? Could it simply be a strange coincidence and Jordan was one of the unluckiest women in the world as far as the men in her life?

So, what did he do now? He couldn’t dismiss this information as if it were useless. On the other hand, he couldn’t assume Jordan was guilty and not look elsewhere for Dan Price’s killer.

If Jordan killed her husband, why had she insisted he stay on as the investigator for Powell’s when she had to know that he would eventually find out everything about her past?

But that was just it — he didn’t know everything about her past. All he had were some basic facts. Four men, five counting Dan Price, in Jordan’s life had died and she had benefited financially from each death. Those facts did not make her guilty of murder. It was possible her father’s death really had been nothing more than a heart attack. And the other three deaths could have been accidents.

He probably needed to call Nic and fill her in on what had happened, assuming Claire Price hadn’t already gotten in touch with Nic. If she had, then he’d have some major explaining to do. After all, it wasn’t an agent’s job to dig up evidence that implicated the client in five murders.

Rick headed for Dan Price’s study, which he had converted into his temporary office. He’d pour himself a drink from the senator’s stocked bar, then telephone Nic. Maybe she’d take him off this case. All things considered, that might be best for everyone involved.

Halfway to the study, he heard footsteps tapping hurriedly along the hall that led from the back of the house. Someone in high heels was running. Curiosity and a desire to postpone calling his boss prompted Rick to search for the source of the footsteps. Just as he rounded the corner that led away from the den, he saw Jordan hurrying into the powder room located at the rear of the house. From the stricken look on her face, he assumed she was sick.

Should he get someone to help her? Should he check on her himself?

The lady was pregnant. Morning sickness was par for the course, right?

While he considered what to do, he continued walking toward the powder room. The door stood ajar giving him a full view of Jordan on her knees, her head bent over the toilet bowl, her hands clutching her stomach.

She moaned a couple of times, then retched violently and threw up. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she groaned and quickly threw up again.

Rick stepped into the bathroom, intent on helping her, but instead he unintentionally frightened her. She gasped, jerked around and glared at him.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

God, she looked like death warmed over. Pale and weak and so very sick.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Rick said. “I heard you running down the hall and I came to see what was wrong.”

“I’m nauseated,” she told him. “Morning sickness at night. I’ve had a few mild episodes the past few days, but nothing like this.”

“How can I help?”

She shook her head. “You can’t—”

Before she managed to finish her sentence, another wave of nausea hit her and she vomited again.

Damn, was this what it was like for all pregnant women? If so, he couldn’t imagine anyone having more than one child.

Vaguely recalling a couple of times when he’d had stomach viruses as a kid, he remembered how tenderly his mother had taken care of him. Rick went over to the sink, yanked the fancy hand towel off the rack, turned on the faucet and dampened the towel. When Jordan eased her head up and away from the toilet bowl, Rick knelt down beside her and gently wiped her face with the cool cloth. Instinctively, he lifted his other hand and caressed her back.

“Feeling any better?” he asked.

“Some. Thanks.”

When she looked at him, her blue-gray eyes filled with gratitude, he wanted to wrap his arms around her. She was pregnant and alone and needed someone to look after her.

“Are you finished or do you think you need to stay here a little longer?”

“Give me a few minutes,” she said. “I think the nausea has passed, but I’m not sure.”

He wiped her face again, then tossed the towel into the sink as he stood. “Want to get up?” He held out his hand.

She took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. Unsteady on her wobbly legs, she swayed toward Rick. He slipped his arm around her waist as she leaned against him, her breasts brushing against his chest. Their gazes met and held for a split second, then she moved back, putting a couple of inches of safe space between them.

“Would you mind walking with me to my bedroom?” Jordan asked. “I feel a little woozy and—”

“I can carry you if you think you can’t walk.”

She smiled. “That’s very kind of you, but I believe I can walk. I just don’t want to be alone in case I faint. I’m one of those silly women prone to fainting when I get sick.”

“Would you like for me to get someone else to help you? Your stepmother or Mrs. Wright or—”

“No, please.” She grabbed his arm. “Don’t disturb them. I don’t want to upset either of them. Roselynne and Darlene are already worried about me and all the stress isn’t good for either of them. Both of them have health issues. Roselynne has high blood pressure and Darlene has dealt with colitis for years. I’m afraid they’ll overreact to what is nothing more than normal morning sickness.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Rick asked. “Not that I know anything about being pregnant, but you were pretty sick.”

“I’m sure. If you will just help me upstairs, I’ll be fine.”

Rick kept his arm around her waist, which he could easily span with his two hands. As they made their way up the stairs, he felt her leaning into him, depending on his strength to keep her steady. For her sake, he took the steps slowly and carefully, mindful of the fact that she might either faint or throw up at any moment.

At the top of the stairs, he sensed that she needed to pause, so he stopped and waited for her to signal to him when she was ready to go on.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

She looked white as a sheet, all color drained from her face. Her hand on his trembled. Without asking permission, Rick scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the hall. She didn’t complain, didn’t protest his actions in any way. When they reached her bedroom door, he maneuvered her in his arms in order to turn the doorknob. Once inside her semi-dark room, he carried her straight through the sitting area and directly to her antique sleigh bed. He set her on the edge, atop the thick comforter, then reached out and turned on a bedside lamp.

“I’m going to get Mrs. Wright. You need—”

She grasped his arm. “No, please. I’ll be fine. Just stay with me a few minutes. Please.”

She needed him. Wanted him.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked.

“I have a mini-refrigerator in my dressing room—” she indicated the direction “—and there are colas in it. Would you mind getting one for me?”

“Sure thing. Do you want ice?”

“No. Just open the bottle for me, if you would, please.”

He found the mini-fridge tucked neatly under the wall-to-wall vanity in the large dressing room. The refrigerator was stocked with a variety of items, including several small bottles of cola. He retrieved one of the bottles, closed the fridge and twisted off the easy-open cap. As he walked across the room, he caught a hint of Jordan’s delicate perfume where it lingered on the upholstered vanity stool and on her robe hanging on the back of the door. Subtle, flowery, and no doubt outrageously expensive perfume that probably cost more per ounce than a week’s pay for the average Joe.

When he returned to the bedroom, he found Jordan lying on the bed, her head resting on several pillows that she had propped against the headboard. He handed her the cola. She smiled at him as she accepted the bottle.

That’s a Helen of Troy smile. A smile that could launch a thousand ships. A smile that could send an army of men to their doom.

Her fingers touched his in the exchange, a momentary brushing that ended before it had begun. She lifted the cola to her lips and took a couple of quick sips, then sighed.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“This being pregnant is quite an experience,” she said. “I’ve heard other women talk about what it’s like, but…” Her smile wavered. “I’ve wanted a child for a long time and I’d almost given up hope. I never thought I’d be going through this without Dan.”

She seemed genuinely sincere, but if this child was Devon Markham’s… If? Did he have any doubts? Yeah, he did. Far too many doubts where Jordan was concerned. His opinion of this woman vacillated practically minute by minute. Right now, he tended to think she just might be the saint that so many people thought she was. Half an hour ago, he’d been convinced she was a cold-hearted murderer.

“You have family and friends,” Rick reminded her. “I know that no one can take a husband’s place, but you have Ryan and Devon Markham who can step in and act as substitute fathers.”

“My child will be fortunate to have so many people love him or her.”

She drank more of the cola, quickly emptying half the bottle, then she set the bottle atop a decorative coaster on the nightstand.

“Feeling better?” Rick asked.

“Much.” She reached out and took his hand. “You’ve been very kind to me, Rick. I appreciate your taking such good care of me. I’m not accustomed to being… uh, let’s just say that usually I’m the caretaker, the one looking after someone else.”

“Then it’s time somebody looked after you, isn’t it, considering you’re pregnant and that you recently lost your husband.”

She squeezed his hand, then released it. “I’ll be all right now, if you want to go.”

“I can stay for a while longer, if you’d like.”

She patted the side of the bed. “Sit and talk to me. Just for a little while. Talk to me about anything except Dan’s death and the investigation. Tell me about yourself. Your family. How you became a Powell agent.”

Rick hesitated before sitting down on the bed. Being alone with her, within easy touching distance, might be a really bad idea. After all, she was a beautiful woman and even if her husband wasn’t cold in the ground, Rick sensed an attraction between them, on her part as well as his.

“I was in the military for a few years,” he told her. “Then I bummed around the world, took odd jobs here and there, and finally settled back in the U.S. An acquaintance mentioned that the Powell Agency was hiring. I filled out an application, went for an interview and now I’ve been with them for nearly five years.”

“Do you like your job?”

“Yeah, I like it well enough. It pays the bills.”

“I worked for the Peachtree Agency, a PR firm in Atlanta, before I married Dan. I’d worked for them before and during my marriage to Boyd.”

“You gave up your career for the senator?”

“When I agreed to marry Dan, I knew that he would need me at his side in Washington as well as when he came home to Georgia.” She stared at Rick. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Ever been married?”

“No.”

“Is there someone special—?”

“No. I fly solo. No emotional baggage. I hook up with somebody occasionally. Nothing serious for either of us. It’s the way I like my life. Simple and uncomplicated.”

“And lonely.”

“Being alone and being lonely are two different things,” he told her.

“Yes, of course, you’re right.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “I’ve seldom been alone and yet I’m often lonely.”

Okay, time to leave. He was on the verge of making a fool of himself over this woman. If he stayed much longer, he’d kiss her and that’s the last thing either of them needed.

He eased off the bed and stood. “If you think you’ll be okay, I guess I’d better head for my room.”

She scooted to the edge of the bed. “I’ll be fine. I think I’ll take a long, relaxing soak in the tub and maybe afterward read for a while.”

He walked backward a few feet, making his way to the door. “If you need me…”

“I won’t. Not tonight.”

Stop staring at her as if she were your favorite dessert.

Rick smiled. She smiled. He turned and all but ran out of her bedroom.

Dan had come to her after dinner that evening more than three weeks ago and asked to speak to her for a few moments. He’d taken her to his study and closed the door.

“I need you to help me,” he’d said.

“Yes, of course. You know I’ll do anything you need for me to do.”

“Dr. Carroll has diagnosed me with the early stages of Alzheimer’s.”

Amazed at how calmly he’d told her, she had tried not to burst into tears. He had put his arm around her shoulders. So like Dan to comfort her when he was the one who had been diagnosed with an incurable disease that would take his life away from him by slow, humiliating degrees.

She had been shocked at first, then as the reality of the situation set in, she had been deeply saddened. During their years with Dan, they had been very content. He was a good man who had made a reasonably good husband and his great wealth afforded them a life of true luxury. And he wanted a child, just as they did, something Boyd Brannon had not wanted. Boyd had two children of his own and at forty-five, he hadn’t wanted to start a second family. Although they’d been disappointed, they accepted his decision because they believed he was a good man. And they’d had his children to love. But Boyd had proven a great disappointment. He had done something unforgivable. He had committed adultery. They couldn’t forgive him for such a grievous sin. He had sworn it was only once. A one-night stand that had meant nothing. But they knew that if a man cheats once, he’ll do it again.