Coldhearted

by Beverly Barton

  “What are you doing?”

  Clutching the see-through dress bag she had just taken from the closet and folded over her arm, she whipped around to face her friend. “I’m doing something I should have done a long time ago.”

  Rene walked into the bedroom. “Isn’t that your wedding dress?”

  “It’s one of them. Remember, I’ve had three.”

  “But only one like that, a real fairytale princess gown.” Rene eyed the white satin dress. “You wore a simple, cream-white, knee-length dress when you married Boyd, and a beige suit when you married Dan.”

  “You have a good memory.”

  “I was your maid of honor when you married Boyd and again when you married Dan.”

  “So you were.”

  Rene crossed the bedroom and paused in the doorway. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’m just doing a little closet cleaning and thought I’d start with this.” She held up the clothes bag. “I should have packed it away or given it away or even thrown it away years ago.”

  A loud gasp from the doorway gained their attention. Darlene stood there, her eyes wide with surprise. Roselynne, who stood behind Darlene, patted her on the back and urged her to move.

  “I ran into Darlene in the hall,” Roselynne explained. “I was on my way up here to see how you were doing. We’re all concerned about you, you know, every last one of us.”

  “I’m fine,” Jordan said. She looked directly at Darlene, then glanced at the wedding gown she held. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that this dress doesn’t mean something special to me. It does. It has since the day you helped me pick it out. But…don’t you see, that’s the problem. It has meant too much to me all these years. I’ve held on to it the way I’ve held on to Robby Joe.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with holding on to good memories,” Roselynne said. “That boy was the love of your life. You should keep the dress.”

  “Maybe she shouldn’t.” Rene reached out and fingered the zipper on the garment bag. “Maybe it is time she packed it away.” She held out her hands. “Want me to take it and put it in a box and store it in the attic for you?”

  Jordan hesitated. Do it. Take that first step, no matter how difficult.

  She looked at Darlene.

  “It’s all right, dear. I knew today, at the cemetery.”

  “What did you know?” Roselynne asked.

  Jordan smiled. “Thank you, Darlene.”

  “I’m confused,” Roselynne said. “Did something happen at the cemetery today when they dug up Robby Joe’s coffin?”

  “Nothing you would understand,” Darlene said before she turned and walked away.

  Jordan handed Rene the garment bag. “I appreciate your doing this for me. It makes it a little easier that I don’t have to do it.”

  “No problem.” Rene took the bag, folded it over her arm, and leaned in to give Jordan a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t let the fact that the timing couldn’t be worse stop you from grabbing happiness with both hands.”

  When Rene hurried out of the room, Jordan rushed after her, but Roselynne grabbed Jordan’s arm, stopping her at the bedroom door.

  “Don’t,” Roselynne said.

  Nix Elliott, who was standing guard outside the bedroom, glanced their way. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Price?”

  “Yes,” Jordan replied. She watched as Rene stopped in the hall, lifted the bag and pressed it to her face.

  “All these years, Darlene and I haven’t been the only ones mourning Robby Joe,” Jordan said.

  “I never knew for sure who she loved the most, you or Robby Joe.” Roselynne wrapped her arm around Jordan’s shoulders and led her back into the bedroom.

  “She pretended that she was all right with my dating Robby Joe and even threw us an engagement party. God, how hard that must have been for her. She was in love with him and I didn’t have a clue. And when he died…Why couldn’t I see it at the time?”

  “For two reasons. One, you were so wrapped up in your own grief and in consoling Darlene, you weren’t aware that anyone else was suffering. And two, Rene is almost as good as you are at hiding her true feelings.”

  “Apparently, she’s better at it. I really had no idea that she was in love with Robby Joe, that she still—”

  “She doesn’t still love him, if that’s what you think. What you saw just then with Rene was nothing more than a moment of ‘what-if’ going on.” Roselynne gently clasped Jordan’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re not still in love with him either. You haven’t been in a long time. You just didn’t know it. But something’s happened to make you finally realize it. That something wouldn’t be Rick Carson, would it?”

  “I’m attracted to Rick, but—”

  “Be careful, baby girl.” Roselynne squeezed Jordan’s chin, then released her. “You’ve just buried a husband, miscarried a child, had your personal life exposed to the world, become a murder suspect, and finally said goodbye to your first love. Now’s not the time to do anything stupid. Rick Carson is one fine-looking man and I daresay he knows a thing or two about pleasing a woman, but it wouldn’t pay to trust him.”

  Jordan grabbed her stepmother and hugged her. “Have I ever thanked you?”

  “For what?”

  “For turning out not to be the wicked stepmother I thought you were when you first married Daddy.”

  Roselynne laughed, the sound as boisterous and bawdy as the woman herself. “You’ve thanked me a hundred times over by taking care of me and Tammy and even J.C.”

  “Have you heard from J.C. lately?” Jordan asked.

  She never wanted Roselynne to find out that J.C. had sold the secrets of her marriage and Dan’s homosexuality to The Chatterbox. It would break her stepmother’s heart.

  “He called from Las Vegas a few days ago. He’s got a job out there and he likes it better than the one he had at the casino in Biloxi.”

  “That’s good. I hope it works out for him.”

  Roselynne smiled. “Me, too.” She nodded to the door. “I need to get home before the bottom falls out. I think we’re in for some stormy weather tonight.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing.” Roselynne paused and looked back just before reaching the open door. “You don’t have to trust a man completely to enjoy what he’s got to offer. Just don’t go falling in love and get your heart broken.”

  Jordan didn’t respond. There was no point in denying the effect Rick had on her. She never thought she’d feel this way again. All those smoldering feminine passions she had tried to bury with Robby Joe really hadn’t died when he did. She had repressed them for twelve years out of fear. Her reasoning had been that living without the ecstasy of being in love protected her from ever again suffering the agony of losing that love.

  Of course, she wasn’t in love with Rick and didn’t expect a future with him. Even if by some miracle he was the right man, not only was now the wrong time, it was the worst possible time. But perhaps someday…in the future…

  If she had a future.

  Jordan had identified his body to save Darlene from having to do it. As long as she lived, she would never forget the moment she looked down at the mangled lifeless body of the man she loved. Only hours before the accident, they’d had a stupid, senseless quarrel about Devon.

  “Honey, I know he’s your best friend, but it’s unheard of to have a man as your maid of honor.”

  “Man of honor,” Jordan had corrected.

  “I’ve offered to let him be my best man. That’s a far more sensible solution to our problem.”

  “We wouldn’t have a problem if you weren’t so narrow-minded. You’re more concerned about what people will think than about how I feel.”

  “That’s not true, sweetheart. But you have to admit that in the social circle we’ll be a part of when we’re married—”

  “Maybe we won’t get married!”

  She had stormed out of Robby Joe�
�s apartment, not listening to his pleas for her to come back, knowing that if she didn’t put some distance between them, she might really call off the wedding. And that’s not what she wanted. She loved Robby Joe. He loved her. And he was very fond of Devon. But sometimes he could be such an old-fashioned man. Of course, some of those old-fashioned masculine traits were part of the reason she loved him.

  He had been on his way to her apartment later that evening for makeup sex. He had phoned her and apologized and told her that if she had her heart set on Devon being her man of honor, then so be it.

  “You love me that much, huh?” she’d said.

  “That much and more.”

  “Why don’t you come over here and spend the night?”

  “I’m hanging up right now,” he’d told her. “Light some candles and put on some soft music. And wear that pink teddy I bought you for Valentine’s Day. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Thirty minutes later, she had called his apartment. No answer. She had called his cell phone. No answer. An hour and a half later, when she was almost out of her mind with worry, she dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and grabbed her shoulder bag on her way out the door. As she was locking up, she heard her phone ring. She managed to unlock the door, open it, and run back into her apartment by the time the phone rang the sixth time. At the precise moment her answering machine picked up and she heard Darlene’s hysterical voice, she grabbed the phone off the hook.

  “Darlene, what’s wrong? Is it Robby Joe?”

  “Oh, Jordan…Jordan…” Darlene had kept saying her name over and over again.

  “What’s happened? Is Robby Joe all right?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Everything that happened after that became a blur and to this day was still a blur. Somehow she had managed to do all the things that were required, undoubtedly working on automatic pilot, her emotions thankfully frozen. She had identified Robby Joe’s body, had made the funeral arrangements, had stayed at Darlene’s side day and night, had held it all together from the moment she’d been told the love of her life was dead until over a week after they buried him.

  She had awakened in the middle of the night, her body drenched in sweat, her heart racing alarmingly, her emotions hot with pain and anger. The agony she endured during the following weeks had nearly destroyed her.

  And then she had accidentally overdosed on prescription medication.

  While recovering in the hospital, she had made a solemn vow, a promise to herself that she had kept these past twelve years. She would never allow anyone or anything to ever hurt her that way again. Whatever she had to do to protect herself, she would do. If that meant never falling in love again, she had considered it a small price to pay. If it meant living half a life instead of a whole life, she had accepted that fact.

  And not since that day when she’d walked out of the hospital, had she shed a single tear. Not for Boyd Bran-non. Not for Dan Price. Not for her sweet lost baby. Not even for herself.

  Rick had heard her when she got out of bed. He’d been lying there listening to her tossing and turning for the past hour. When he had come upstairs for the night and relieved Nix Elliott, Jordan had already been in bed and either asleep or pretending to be. He had grabbed a quick shower, put on the pajama bottoms he never wore when at home, and tried to get comfortable in the daybed. Eventually, he had fallen asleep, but he seldom slept soundly, not when he was on guard duty. He woke the minute Jordan began stirring.

  Lying there in still silence, he watched as she walked across the bedroom, moving slowly toward the French doors that opened onto the balcony. He tossed back the covers, sat up, and reached for his wristwatch lying under the bed, alongside his holstered Smith & Wesson. He checked the lighted digital face and noted that it was three-eighteen.

  Don’t get up. Don’t follow her. She’s safe.

  He sat on the edge of the daybed and listened. He heard rumbles of distant thunder, the tick-tock of the mantel clock in Jordan’s bedroom, and then the distinct creak of the French doors opening.

  She’s going outside for a breath of fresh air. She doesn’t need you. She wants to be alone. Give her some space.

  Was she thinking about Robby Joe Wright?

  Probably.

  Rick rose to his feet, walked into the bathroom, and, in the dark, turned on the faucet. He cupped his hands together to catch the flow and threw cold water into his face.

  A streak of lightning flashed, illuminating the small window in the bathroom and giving him a quick glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. His face was darkened with beard stubble and his hair was too long. He definitely needed a shave and a haircut.

  He tried to talk himself out of checking on Jordan; but instead of crawling back in bed and leaving her alone, he entered her bedroom and halfway to the French doors, he stopped and looked at her. Both doors stood wide open. The wind blew the sheer curtains, billowing them into waltzing fluffs of fabric. Another rumble of thunder, louder and closer, followed the slash of lightning that momentarily brightened the dark sky.

  Rick’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Jordan, her slender body covered with a floor-length, silk gown. Pink. No lace. No ribbons. Pencil thin straps. Cut almost to her waist in the back, revealing her shoulder blades.

  He gripped his hands into loose fists, opened them, and then repeated the movement a couple of times. He wanted to touch her, to put his hands all over her, to feel every creamy inch of her skin.

  As if sensing he was watching her, Jordan glanced over her shoulder. Only the pale glimmer from the outside motion-sensor, security lights, activated by the high winds, prevented total darkness.

  Rick swallowed hard.

  Their gazes met and locked.

  He moved toward her. She watched him until he was within a couple feet of her, then she turned her head and looked away. He came up behind her, almost touching her. He felt her heat. Smelled her sweet femininity. Sensed the need she couldn’t hide.

  When he touched her, his hands moving over her shoulders, she gasped, then sighed heavily. He slid his hands down her upper arms, slowly moving into her, bringing her back against his chest, her hips against his erection. As he slipped one hand across her waist and covered her breast with the other, she whimpered and leaned her head back against his collarbone. He rested his jaw against her temple and strummed his thumb across her tight nipple, stroking it through the thin silk.

  He nuzzled the side of her face. He kissed her temple. And then he moved lower until his open mouth pressed against her neck. Moaning softly, she shuddered. While he toyed with her nipple, he trailed his other hand down over her belly. Slowly. Driving himself crazy with his hunger for more. He pressed his hand over her mound and shoved his fingers between her legs, plastering her gown against her inner thighs. When he rubbed her intimately, she covered his hand with hers.

  He nibbled on her neck as he clutched the sides of her gown and drew it up. Bunching the shimmering silk in his hands, he lifted it high enough to touch the triangle of curls nestled at the apex of her thighs. When he inched his fingers through the soft dampness and discovered her sensitive nub, her breathing quickened with excitement. The edge of her gown draped his wrist as he fondled her.

  She sighed. She whimpered. She moaned.

  He loved every sound. He loved the feel of her beneath his hands and the taste of her on his tongue. Her moisture gushed around his fingers. She was slick and wet and hot. So very hot.

  “Come for me,” he whispered huskily, his lips against her ear. “Let go. Let me feel you falling apart.”

  Her entire body tensed. He increased the pressure and the tempo as he gently bit her shoulder. She cried out when her orgasm hit. Shuddering with release, she reached on either side of her and grabbed his thighs for support.

  As she climaxed, the first hard, heavy drops of rain fell. But he didn’t rush her into the bedroom. Instead he let her float down from the sensual high by slow degrees. When he eased his hand up and unde
r her gown, caressing her belly, she shivered and he knew her skin was sensitive to the touch.

  By the time her breathing returned to normal and the aftershocks of her orgasm subsided, they were both drenched. He draped his arm around her waist and turned her to face him. She looked up at him. Until the day he died, he would never forget how beautiful Jordan was at that very moment.

  Without saying a word, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Leaving the French doors open, the rain blowing inside and the curtains fluttering, Rick put her on her feet when they reached the bed. When his gaze traveled from her face, down her throat, across her breasts, over her stomach and down her legs, she reached for him. Her fingertips caressed his face and then slid down his throat. When she spread her open palms flat against his damp, naked chest, he groaned. Her mouth opened with a surprised smile. He grasped her gown where it stuck to her hips, pulled at the wet material and brought it up and over her head.

  He looked at her. Her full, round breasts high, her nipples peaked. A thatch of thick dark blond curls covered her mound.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “It’s not too soon after…the baby?”

  “No. I—I…it’s not too soon.”

  He looked in her eyes. “Then say it. Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you.” Her voice was raspy with emotion.

  He shrugged off his pajama bottoms, stepped out of them, and left them on the floor as he pushed her back, then lifted her up and onto the bed.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told her. “I’ve got some condoms in my shave kit.”

  Smiling, she nodded, and then seductively slinked across the satiny cotton sheets and into the middle of the bed.

  Rick made a mad dash into the bathroom, unzipped his shaving kit and upended the contents in his haste to find the three condoms. Clutching them in his hand, he returned to the bedroom, tossed two down on the nightstand and ripped open the other.

  Jordan sat up halfway in the bed, her gaze on his penis, and watched him. Feeling her looking at him excited him. With the condom in place, he got in bed and came down over her, his knees on either side of her legs, his arms braced against the mattress, keeping his weight off her.