Cold Hearted by Beverly Barton

She didn’t look over her shoulder to see if he was following, but she knew he was. Not only could she hear his heavy footsteps, but she could feel his presence as if it were a shadow hovering over her. Watching her. Examining her.
    The man made her nervous.
    She didn’t pause when she reached the open door that led into her private sanctuary. This room had once been part of a back porch that had spanned the length of the house, but sometime in the past 50 years, a section of the porch had been enclosed and divided into two rooms. A glass encased sunroom filled with antique white wicker lay on the right side and her study on the left. A wall of windows faced the back courtyard. The ceiling and two walls boasted old beaded board painted a pale peach and what had once been the exterior wall was white-washed brick. She had decorated the room herself and had chosen each item, each piece of furniture, with great care. This was the only room in the entire house that was hers alone. Even though she had not shared a bedroom with Dan, her room, like the others in this old mansion, held priceless antiques and had been professionally decorated.
    Jordan paused in front of the beige-and-brown striped settee, then turned slowly to face her guest. Their gazes clashed. Jordan swallowed.
    “Please, take a seat,” she told him as she eased down onto the settee.
    “Yes, ma’am.” He took the rust-colored easy chair across from her. “Is there some kind of problem?”
    “I hope not, but if there is, I think we need to resolve it as soon as possible. Agreed?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Ryan trusts you because you’re employed by Nicole and Griffin Powell and normally I trust Ryan’s judgment. But I need to be certain that I can trust you to keep any personal information you uncover during your investigation completely private and never reveal it to anyone other than Ryan and me.”
    “I can assure you that, unless I uncover something that directly incriminates either you or Ryan in your husband’s death, all information will be kept in strictest confidence.”
    Jordan’s heart stopped for a millisecond. Was this man saying what she thought he was? Was he implying that — No, surely he wouldn’t dare suggest that either she or Ryan might have been responsible for Dan’s death.
    “Mr. Carson, are you actually suggesting that Ryan or I might have—”
    “Look, let’s lay our cards on the table right now. I’m a straightforward kind of guy and since you’re paying for my services through the Powell Agency, you have a right to know that my only goal is to find out if your husband was murdered and if he was, who killed him. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, I understand. That’s why Ryan and I hired you.”
    When he leaned forward, Jordan instinctively withdrew, pressing back against the sofa, her body unconsciously trying to escape from the threat she sensed he posed.
    “Then you won’t object if I ask you one simple question, will you?”
    Her heart raced at breakneck speed.
    “Ask your question,” she said.
    He looked her square in the eye, his dark, penetrating stare pinning her to the spot. “Mrs. Price, did you kill your husband?”
     
Chapter 4
     
    Rick could tell that his question had not surprised Jordan Price. She glowered at him with those cool blue-gray eyes, her expression an odd mixture of hurt and anger. But she stayed perfectly calm. Only the telltale clenching of her jaw and the hard glare revealed any emotion.
    “Would you believe me if I told you that I did not kill my husband and that I cared deeply for him?”
    “Cared deeply? Odd choice of words, Mrs. Price.”
    “Honest choice of words,” she said. “I loved Dan, but not in some silly, youthfully passionate way. Our marriage worked for both of us. In our own fashion, we were quite content.”
    “Another odd choice of words.”
    “But once again an honest choice.”
    “You’re not much for deep, passionate feelings, are you?”
    She stared at