Cold Hearted by Beverly Barton Page B

met and God help him, it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms to comfort her.
    He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then abruptly released her. “I’ll need office space of some type while I’m here.”
That’s it, Carson, stick to Powell Agency business and steer clear of any monkey business
. “Access to high-speed Internet, a fax machine, a copier and printer. Could that be arranged in whatever room you’ve—?”
    “All of it is available in Dan’s study. He used that room as his home office. Feel free to arrange things any way you’d like. I’ll inform Tobias and Vadonna that the room will be yours to use while you’re here.”
    “Are you sure you want me using your husband’s study? I mean, considering that’s where he died.”
    Jordan clutched her hands together and moistened her lips with a quick, light lick.
    Did she have any idea what kind of an effect she had on him? Sure she did. She was playing him and he’d damn well better not forget it.
    “Yes, I’m sure you may use Dan’s study. I — I hadn’t been back in there until yesterday when I interrupted your private conversation with Ryan.”
    “Everyone is a suspect until I rule them out, including you and Ryan. If you have a problem with that, I need to know now.”
    She almost smiled. Her lips curved upward ever so slightly and he noted a faint trace of laughter in her eyes. “Please, call me Jordan. And may I call you Rick?”
    He nodded. What sort of game was she playing?
Please, call me Jordan. And may I call you Rick
?
    A soft rap on the half-open door interrupted them.
    “Yes, come in, please,” Jordan said, as if she was expecting someone.
    A plump, middle-aged woman entered the room, a silver tray in her hands. She set the tray on Jordan’s desk.
    “Thank you, Vadonna,” Jordan said.
    “Yes, ma’am. Will there be anything else?”
    “No, thank you, that will be all.”
    While the woman exited, Jordan indicated the silver pot and accessories on the tray. “Would you care for coffee?”
    Rick shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
    Jordan focused on him. “You laid your cards on the table, Rick, and asked me point blank if I killed my husband. Now it’s my turn to be brutally honest. I don’t like you. I don’t want you here invading my home and my grief, taking away my privacy and questioning my integrity. But if my husband was murdered, I want his killer found and brought to justice. I want you to do your job. However, if you do anything to sully Dan Price’s reputation, I’ll see to it personally that you regret it. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Yes, ma’am. Crystal clear. Any skeletons your husband had in his closet will remain there.”
    She sighed heavily. “I expect to be kept up-to-date on the investigation. For now, a daily report will suffice.”
    The lady was accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. The privilege of wealth — her dead husband’s wealth. “Will every morning right after breakfast be suitable for my daily report or do you prefer for me to report right before bedtime?”
    “Every morning works for me.” A cool, succinct reply.
    When she stood, he stood.
    “I’ll have Tobias show you to your room. If there’s anything you need, please let us know.” As she walked toward the door, he followed. “Dinner is at seven.”
    She opened the door and ushered him out of her study, effectively dismissing him. “If you’ll wait in the foyer, I’ll find Tobias.”
    He watched her as she walked away. She moved with a fluid grace that came as naturally to her as breathing. Jordan Price’s kind of class couldn’t be learned. It was innate.
    If he didn’t watch his step, the lady would have him wrapped around her little finger in no time at all.
    Rene washed hurriedly, removing the smell of sex from her body, then not bothering to dry off, she yanked on her thong and pulled up her slacks. As she hooked her bra, she noticed a bruise on her left breast. J.C. liked to