Текст книги "Cold Hearted"

Автор книги: Beverly Barton

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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.

She’d had no choice but to kill him. He hadn’t deserved to live.

And Dan hadn’t deserved to die, but she’d had no choice but to kill him, too. She supposed she could have waited until his disease had progressed, but dealing with the news of Dan’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis would have added undue stress to their lives and might have affected the pregnancy. She couldn’t risk anything happening to the child they had wanted for such a long time.

When she had left him that night, alone in his study, she’d thought for sure she had convinced him that suicide was his only course of action. Oh, she hadn’t come right out and suggested that he kill him self. No, she was smarter than that. But she had made subtle references to how a man in his position might want to spare those he loved from going through hell with him, day after day, year after year.

She had gone back to check on him later and found him passed out drunk. Everyone else had been upstairs asleep, so no one had seen her reenter the study. She had sat there, waiting for the right moment, watching Dan as he slept. As soon as he began to stir and mumbled in his sleep, she had slipped on her gloves and picked up the gun from the desk. It had been relatively simple to lift his hand and put the gun in it, then hold his hand in place and raise the gun to his temple. His eyes had opened for just a second before she pressed his index finger down on the trigger.

He had smiled at her.

She hadn’t smiled until later, after she had left the study and knew that she had solved all their problems once again.

Nicole Baxter Powell hung up the phone after a brief conversation with her cousin Claire, then rolled over in bed and snuggled against her husband who had just tonight returned from his trip to England. It had been the first time they’d been apart more than a couple of days since they married last year and she had missed him terribly.

Griff slid his arm under her shoulders and pulled her close as he lowered his head and kissed her. “From the frown on your face, I’d say that was business and not chitchat with Claire.”

Nic sighed. “You’d be right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You know that Ryan and his sister-in-law Jordan hired Powell’s to do a private investigation, to look into the circumstances surrounding Dan Price’s death.”

“Yes, you explained all of that during one of our daily phone calls. Ryan doesn’t believe his brother would commit suicide.”

“Well, it seems that Rick, just doing his job, asked Maleah to have Powell’s do a thorough background check on Jordan Price and he discovered some info that helped him form a theory about who might have killed Dan Price.”

“And this is bad? Having a suspect has upset Claire?”

“It’s not having a suspect that has upset her and Ryan, it’s who the suspect is that has them both very concerned.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

Griff grinned at his wife. His sexy, irresistible smile issued her an invitation she wanted to accept immediately.

“Oh, Griff, the last thing I want to do is talk business on your first night home.”

“Then just spit it out. The sooner we deal with the problem, the sooner you can get down to giving me my welcome home present.”

She punched him on the arm. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?” She planted kisses all over his face.

He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her to arm’s length, holding her securely. “Who does Rick think killed Senator Price?”

“His wife.”

“Jordan Price?”

“It seems he thinks she might be some kind of black widow because her first husband and a former fiancé and a former boss all died accidentally and she profited monetarily from each death.”

“Sounds like a motive to me. What do Claire and Ryan think?”

“They’re ready to fire Rick. They’re a hundred percent sure of Jordan’s innocence. Claire said that Jordan could no more have killed Dan than she could have.”

“So call Rick in and send out another agent to replace him.”

“But what if Rick’s right?”

“If he is, another agent will come to the same conclusion and if that happens, maybe Claire and Ryan will change their minds.”

Nic lifted her arms up and around Griff’s neck. “I’ll call Rick in the morning. Right now, I have something far more important to do.”

Griff’s smile widened. “And just what would that be, Mrs. Powell?”

She unbelted her robe, slipped it off her shoulders and tossed back the covers. Then she crawled on top of him, naked body on naked body.

“Welcome home, husband.”

Chapter 10

Rick’s cell phone rang at five forty-five, waking him from a deep sleep. It took him a full minute to realize where the noise was coming from and to react accordingly. He rolled over, tossed his arm out and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. First he glanced at the time and then the caller ID before answering.

Griff Powell.

Something had to be wrong for his boss to call him this early in the morning.

“Rick Carson here,” he said and braced himself for bad news.

“Tell me how the Priceville Daily Gazette got hold of the information that Jordan Price has lost one husband to suicide and another husband, a fiancé, and a former boss to accidents, and even a father to a supposed heart attack.”

Holy shit! “I have no idea,” Rick said as his mind tried frantically to assimilate this news.

“I just got off the phone with Ryan Price. It seems the Daily Gazette’s publisher is an acquaintance and the man had the decency to forewarn Ryan what today’s front page headline would be. Want to take a guess what it says?”

Rick reacted by immediately going into defensive mode. “I did not leak any information to the press.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Griff told him. “Who, other than Mrs. Price and Ryan, did you talk to about Jordan’s past?”

Crap! He’d told Lt. Haley McLain. But why would she go to the press with the info? What possible reason would she have to betray his confidence? Maybe it wasn’t Haley. But who else could it have been?

“I spoke to a member of the Dade County sheriff’s department and asked her opinion about how she interpreted the info about Jordan Price’s past. I needed someone outside of Powell’s I could trust to use as a sounding board.”

“Maybe you trusted the wrong person,” Griff said. “Find out and report back to me. But first, tell Mrs. Price what’s happened. It will be better if she hears it from you. If she believes that you are the source of the leak, I’ll have no choice but to replace you. Ryan is spitting mad and ready to fire you, but I assured him that the Daily Gazette did not get their info from you.”

“Did he believe you?”

“He’s keeping an open mind for the time being.”

“I’ll call you when I have something to report.”

“You have to know that once this information runs in the local newspaper, the media will bombard Jordan. I suggest securing Price Manor immediately. Get in touch with local law enforcement ASAP. Maleah and Holt will arrive by noon today. If you find that you need more agents, I can have half a dozen there by tomorrow.”

Conversation over. The End.

Rick flung off the covers, got up, and went straight to the bathroom. He shaved with his electric razor, something he did only when he was pressed for time, took a three-minute shower, and dressed hurriedly.

No matter whether Haley leaked the news or someone else did, the end results would be the same. All hell was about to break loose. Jordan Price would be caught in the middle of some nasty accusations. And it was his fault.

Someone called her name. Her eyelids flickered as she tried to wake. Suddenly bright sunlight poured into her room and even with her eyes partially closed, she realized someone had opened the blinds.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, still half-asleep.

“Wake up, Jordan.” Devon approached the bed.

As she sat up, the covers dropped to her waist, revealing the top of her blue silk pajamas. She looked at Devon and gasped. The expression on his face told her that something terrible had happened.

“Take a look at this.” He handed her a folded newspaper. “It’s unbelievable that anyone could be so vicious.”

Jordan took the newspaper, unfolded it, and looked at the front page.

The headline read: IS JORDAN PRICE A BLACK WIDOW?

Her entire body went numb. Even though Devon was talking to her, all she heard was the roar of her own heartbeat. She scanned the article quickly. Her past tragedies were laid out like a blueprint of murder and mayhem despite the fact that not one accusation had been made against her. But if she were John Q. Public, she would read this article and believe that the woman who had lost almost every important man in her life and had profited from each death was probably a cold-blooded murderer.

“How did this happen?” she asked. “Who would have given this information to the Daily Gazette?”

“It had to have been Rick Carson,” Devon told her. “He’s the one who had the Powell Agency dig up all your ancient history. And he’s the one who suspects you and I killed Dan. Who else could it have been?”

Rick Carson? No, she refused to believe that he would deliberately hurt her this way. And it was apparent that whoever had leaked this info intended to harm her.

Get real, Jordan. You hardly know Rick. You have no idea what he’s capable of doing.

But he had been so caring last night, so gentle and considerate. She had sensed the goodness in him. Had it all been an act? Had there been an ulterior motive behind his kindness? Had he hoped she would trust him enough to confess her sins?

“I don’t think Mr. Carson would betray a client,” Jordan said, trying to convince herself as well as Devon. “He has to know that if he did such a thing, he would lose his job.”

Devon nodded. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense. But if not Mr. Carson, then who? No one in the family and certainly none of your close friends would ever go to the press with such a ludicrous story.”

“Did you read the article?” Jordan asked. “It’s not a ludicrous story. From what I read, it simply states the facts as they are and leaves the rest up to the reader’s imagination. Only the headline implies that I murdered both of my husbands and my fiancé.”

“Oh, God, Jordan, this is bad. Really bad.”

“Don’t fall apart on me,” she told him. “Not now.”

Her poor, sweet Devon. So sensitive, so highly emotional, so easily hurt. Losing Dan had nearly destroyed him. As his best friend, she always tried to protect him, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible. Now, with this new development, how was she going to keep the vultures at bay and protect not only Devon, but herself and her unborn child?

She threw back the covers, got out of bed, and hugged Devon. He clung to her, doing his best to offer her his support while he drew strength from her.

A loud rapping noise gained their immediate attention and both turned just as the door opened. Rick Carson stood in the doorway glaring at them. Devon tried to pull away from her, but Jordan slipped her arm around his waist. She had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of, certainly not her relationship with Devon.

“Please, come in,” Jordan said.

Rick entered the room and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the newspaper lying on the bed. “You’ve seen it.”

“Yes,” Jordan said. “I take it that you know all about the front page article. A rather damning headline, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t seen the newspaper.” Rick crossed the room, reached out, and picked up the Priceville Daily Gazette. He cringed when he read the headline. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured under his breath.

“If you hadn’t seen this morning’s paper, then how did you know about the article?” Devon asked.

“My boss, Griffin Powell, telephoned me. It seems that the publisher of the Daily Gazette contacted Ryan earlier this morning to warn him about the article, and Ryan called Griff.”

Jordan looked him square in the eye, hoping that she could tell if he was lying to her. “I’m going to be as brutally honest in asking you a pointed question as you were with me a couple of days ago.”

He nodded.

“Did you leak the information about my past to the press?”

“No, I did not.”

She released a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding and then swallowed the lump of tension in her throat. Heaven help her if she was wrong, but she believed him. “It’s only a matter of time before the phones will start ringing off the hook and the media swarms the house. We have to do something—”

“It’s being done,” Rick said. “I’ve ordered the gates at the front entrance to be closed and no one allowed onto the private drive without permission from either you or me. I’ve put in a call to Sheriff Corbett. We’ll need some deputies to keep order at the gate. Two more Powell agents will arrive by noon today. And I woke your assistant and told her what’s happening so she can take care of the phone calls.”

“I need to see Ryan and Claire.” Jordan pulled away from Devon and took a tentative step toward Rick. “I have to explain that—”

“Ryan is ready to fire me because he thinks I leaked the information. Your brother-in-law seems to have complete faith in you, so you shouldn’t be concerned about what he and his wife might think. Apparently, they’re a hundred percent on your side.”

Of course, she should have known that she could count on Ryan and Claire’s support. Over the past three years during her marriage to Dan, they had learned to trust one another. They had become as dear to her as the other members of her adopted family.

“Oh, mercy! Darlene and Roselynne will both go ballistic and worry themselves sick about me. And when this information spreads to the state and then national news media, Kendra and Wes will have to deal with their classmates’ taunts about their stepmother.”

“Try to stay as calm as you can.” Rick came toward her, but stopped short of touching her. “Your getting upset isn’t good for you or your baby.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Yes, of course you do.” Rick looked at Devon. “Why don’t you gather the family downstairs in the parlor so we can tell everyone at once about what’s happened and how we’re going to handle the situation. Do you think you can do that for Jordan?”

Devon’s misty eyes widened as if uncertain how to react to Rick’s request. He glanced at Jordan before replying. “If that’s what Jordan wants me to do.”

“Yes, please,” she replied.

“I need you to trust that I can and will handle things,” Rick told her. “But in order for me to do some damage control and keep you safe and away from the press, I have to ask that you allow me to be in complete charge, to make the decisions and issue the orders.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Devon said. “After all, how do we know for sure that you’re not the one who leaked this information about Jordan to the Daily Gazette?”

With her gaze glued to Rick, Jordan placed her hand on Devon’s arm. “It’s all right, Devon. I trust Rick.” She pivoted and smiled at Devon. “Round up the herd and corral them in the parlor. I’ll be down shortly.”

Hesitantly, Devon nodded, returned her smile, and headed for the door. He gave Rick an if-you-hurt-her-you’ll-answer-to-me glower.

Once alone in her bedroom with Rick, Jordan suddenly realized that she was standing there in front of him wearing nothing but her silk pajamas. She shifted uncomfortably on her bare feet.

“I – I need to get dressed,” she said.

“Do you really trust me?” he asked.

She breathed deeply, steadying her nerves, and then answered. “Yes, I do.” Oddly enough, she really did trust him. She felt certain that Rick had not leaked the info about her past and she had no qualms about him being in charge. “I trust you enough to put myself in your capable hands.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

“I… uh… should put on some clothes,” she told him.

They stood facing each other for a full minute before Rick broke eye contact and said, “I’ll just let myself out and wait for you in the hall. Take your time. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

“Thank you.”

Why was it that she felt as if Rick truly could protect her from everything and everyone? Something deeply primitive and totally feminine urged her to run into his arms.

Instead of acting on impulse, she said, “I won’t be long,” as she rushed into her dressing room.

Ryan and Claire arrived at Price Manor shortly after Rick escorted Jordan downstairs to alert her family of the upcoming media frenzy that would soon consume Jordan and everyone associated with her. Sheriff Corbett arrived at Price Manor before nine, accompanied by Lt. Haley McLain and two male deputies, Wilson and Burgess. The deputies were posted at the closed gates at the end of the long drive where news crews from area newspapers and television stations had begun congregating by seven that morning.

Steve Corbett spoke to Jordan and then to Ryan, reassuring both of them that, as sheriff, he would see to it that his deputies took care of crowd control,.

“And we’ll cooperate with the Powell agents,” Corbett told Ryan. “We can coordinate this any way y’all want us to.”

While the sheriff continued his conversation with the Price family, Rick went over to Haley and as inconspicuously as possible, grabbed her arm and dragged her out into the hall. She huffed and glared, but didn’t utter a word of protest until they were alone.

“What’s the manhandling all about?” she demanded.

He released her. “Want to tell me how the Priceville Daily Gazette got hold of the information about Jordan’s past?”

Taking a defensive stance, she glared at him. “If you’re implying what I think you are, then—”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m point blank asking you if you contacted someone at the Daily Gazette and gave them the information I shared with you last night.”

“Why would I leak the information? What possible reason would I have to do such a thing?”

“You think Daniel Price was murdered,” Rick said. “And after what I told you last night, you’re probably convinced that Jordan killed him.”

“Like you’re not.”

Ignoring her comeback, he outright accused her. “You leaked the info in the hope you could get the case reopened and the senator’s death ruled a homicide. Am I right?”

“Yes, you’re right about my wanting the case reopened, but you’re wrong about my betraying your confidence and deliberately leaking info about Mrs. Price.”

Rick didn’t believe her. Logic dictated his certainty that she was the guilty party. “If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

She relaxed a little, lowering the protective barrier she had erected between them. “I have no idea. Maybe someone overheard us talking last night at the restaurant. Or maybe someone at the Powell Agency—”

“It was not a Powell agent.”

“Then I don’t know.”

“If I find out that you’re lying to me—”

“You’ll do what, big man?” With her protective barrier in place again, Haley shot him an eat-dirt-and-die glare. “I’ve told you I wasn’t the one who leaked the info. You can believe me or not. Your choice.” Without a backward glance, she whirled around and went into the parlor.

Usually, his gut instincts were pretty accurate, but lately they seemed to be off. Way off. He should believe Haley. She was a law enforcement officer, someone sworn to protect and defend. He had no reason not to trust her. On the other hand, Jordan Price’s background all but proclaimed her to be a killer, a woman who had murdered at least four men. So why was it that his instincts told him that Haley was lying and that Jordan was innocent?

When Rene informed Jordan that Jane Anne Price had been one of the numerous callers who had left a message for her to get in touch, Jordan excused herself from the parlor where she’d been trapped since early morning. The entire family was here, except for her stepchildren, and she had begun to feel smothered with so much loving support. Although she dreaded speaking to Dan’s ex-wife, she found that she would gladly use any excuse to get away from the inter-family chaos the news headlines had created. When she shut the study door behind her, she leaned back and closed her eyes, wishing she could blot out the nightmare her life had become as easily as she shut out the light. She was tempted to lock the door. But what was the use? If anyone wanted her, they would knock until she let them in. There was no privacy in this house, no privacy in her life.

Although she’d had more than enough people hovering around her, each one doing his or her best to comfort her, Jordan realized that the person she had wanted to turn to for understanding, to lean on for support, had been busy doing his job, doing what needed to be done.

Of course, her desire to seek comfort from Rick wasn’t logical. He was little more than a stranger, a man who doubted her innocence, the person others thought might have betrayed her. And yet her feelings were what they were. Maybe it was nothing more than foolishness to want a strong shoulder to lean on, to long for someone to take care of her instead of her carrying the burden alone. She felt as if she’d spent a lifetime looking after everyone else’s needs and neglecting her own.

Except for when she was engaged to Robby Joe.

He had been her rock. A strong, gentle, caring man who had loved her as much as she had loved him. Her one true love. Her only love.

Releasing a cleansing breath, Jordan opened her eyes. The plantation blinds that covered the windows were closed, blocking the outdoor light. Her study caught the afternoon sunshine since the back of the house faced southwest. With a frantic rush, she opened one set of blinds after another, flooding the room with the light and heat.

If only she hadn’t lost Robby Joe…

But she had. He was dead and buried. Lost to her forever.

Boyd Brannon had been a decent man and she had cared for him, but neither he nor she had gone into their marriage expecting grand passion. He’d been a widower more than fifteen years her senior, with two young children he was raising on his own. They had met when his company had hired the Peachtree Agency as their PR firm. Their relationship began as friendship and in all honesty that’s what it had remained, even after they married. He had wanted a mother for his children, a congenial companion, and a wife who would be an asset to an ambitious executive. Looking back, she realized she shouldn’t have married him, but she had thought she could find fulfillment in motherhood. At first Boyd had suggested they wait to have a child of their own, but after a year of postponements, she had confronted him.

“I’m sorry, Jordan, but I don’t want another child. Why can’t you be satisfied with helping me raise Wes and Kendra? They’ve grown to love you like a mother.”

Boyd’s decision for them not to have a child had broken her heart, but she had accepted the hand she’d been dealt and tried to make her marriage work. Even when she had discovered he’d been unfaithful to her, she hadn’t left him because of the devastating effect it would have had on Wesley and Kendra.

When Boyd was killed in a senseless hunting accident, she had mourned the loss of the children’s father, but not the loss of her husband.

Jordan sat down at her desk. She couldn’t use the land-line because Rene had been forced to disconnect the phone. The calls had poured in, one after another, keeping the phone ringing off the hook all morning.

She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulled out her cell phone and laid it atop the desk. She had turned it off, per Rick’s instructions, earlier today.

Call Jane Anne and get it over with.

There was no way she could leave Price Manor today or tomorrow or possibly even the day after to meet Jane Anne. She would be followed everywhere she went, her every move scrutinized.

She wondered if Dan had ever loved Jane Anne, even in the beginning of their marriage? Maybe she’d been a different person then, a better person, or at least Dan must have thought so or he wouldn’t have married her. In a way, Jordan supposed she understood why Jane Anne had been so bitter about the divorce, why she had reacted as she had. But if she had loved Dan, truly loved him, she would have forgiven him and accepted the truth without seeking revenge. Even now, twelve years later and with Dan dead, Jane Anne posed a threat to his good name, his unblemished record, his part of the Price family legacy, and to the future of the child Jordan carried.

She turned on her cell phone and the moment it picked up a signal, she dialed Jane Anne’s number.

“It’s about time you returned my call.” Jane Anne laughed. “But I suppose you’ve been busy trying to convince everyone that you really aren’t a black widow who has killed two husbands.”

“Is that why you called, to ask me if I killed Dan?”

“Hell no. I don’t give a damn if you killed him. The son of a bitch deserved what he got, don’t you agree?”

“No, I don’t agree, but then I loved Dan and apparently you never did.”

“Jesus! You’re such a liar.”

“I assume your reason for calling has to do with the arrangement we made for us to meet,” Jordan said. “I’m afraid that will be impossible right now. I’m virtually trapped here at Price Manor. I need a few more days, maybe a week—”

“You can’t get out, but I can get in. All you have to do is add my name to the Please Admit list and I can come to you.”

“I don’t have the amount we agreed on here at the house.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take a check.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“Look, you can’t talk me out of this,” Jane Anne said. “I want my money and the sooner the better. I’m doing you a favor taking a down payment instead of demanding the entire million up front. Now more than ever, you certainly don’t want me telling the world about your arrangement with Dan, do you?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Then see to it that I can get past the front gates this after noon and have my check ready.”

“Please, can’t this wait a few days?”

“Each day you delay means the price goes up. In a few days, I may want two million. Or maybe I’ll just contact Devon and see if—”

“Leave Devon alone!”

Jane Anne’s self-satisfied laughter angered Jordan. The woman was deriving pleasure from taunting her.

“So protective. Like a mother hen. You’d do just about anything for Devon, wouldn’t you? You must love him a great deal.”

“Be here at five. Go to the back gate. You know where it is. I’ll meet you there and let you in.”

“You don’t want anyone to see me, do you? That’s fine by me. I’m willing to stay completely in the background as long as I get my money.”

“You’ll get it. I promise.”

Rick hadn’t gotten a chance to talk privately with Jordan again and it was probably better that he hadn’t. Whenever he had glanced her way during this long, exhausting day, she had looked at him with an expression of longing in her cool blue-gray eyes. He’d told himself that it was his imagination, that he’d seen what he wanted to see. He wanted her to need him, wanted her to depend on him, and he wanted to be her champion. God knew she didn’t have anyone else, not really. Yeah, sure, she had a bunch of people smothering her with attention, but their actions simply masked their own need for Jordan to soothe their worries. Except for Ryan and Claire, the rest of them depended on Jordan for either financial or emotional support or for both. But who could Jordan depend on?

At the end of the day, maybe she turns to Devon Markham. Maybe he holds her in his arms and comforts her. Maybe he tells her that he’ll take care of her.

Maybe, but not likely.

Rick sensed that, whatever their relationship might be, Jordan and Devon were not equals. She was the stronger of the two by far, and a woman such as Jordan needed a man who was her counterpart in every way.

What was there about her that made a guy go all goofy in the head? He had to question his own common sense. He knew damn well there was a definite possibility she was a ruthless killer, and yet he couldn’t control some gut-level need to take care of her.

Right this minute, his first impulse was to look for her, just to check on her and see how she was holding up. With Maleah and Holt here at Price Manor, he had been able to relinquish some of his duties to them, but that didn’t mean he had time to search for Jordan. He had spent part of his day working with Rene Burke to formulate a game plan, one they had already set in motion. Rene had cleared the press release with Jordan, a simple statement from Ryan Price saying emphatically that he had complete confidence in his sister-in-law and supported her without question.

What Rick really needed about now was some fresh air. Dinner this evening was bound to be a three-ring circus. He hated the thought of watching Jordan try to force down food she didn’t want simply to keep others from worrying about her. He’d speak to her before dinner and suggest she request her meal be sent to her room.