Free Janelle Taylor by Night Moves Page B

politely.
    “I’m not her son,” Spencer informed the woman and the roomful of strangers.
    Her stomach turning over, Jordan steered him straight to the door, bypassing the sinks despite his protest that his mother always made him wash after using the rest room.
    As she led him out to the car, Jordan told herself to stop being so paranoid. It wasn’t as though she was harboring a fugitive. For Pete’s sake, she was simply baby-sitting her godson for a few days.
    But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension.
    Why hadn’t Phoebe called?
    What if she never called?
    What if she had abandoned Spencer with Jordan and run off forever?
    What then?

Chapter Five
    As Andy Rooney wrapped up his Sixty Minutes report and the show’s closing music began to play, Beau clicked off the television set and stretched. He hadn’t moved from this spot since this afternoon, and it had felt good to kick back and watch some television. But he’d had enough relaxation. He wasn’t cut out to be a couch potato.
    He stood and wandered into the kitchen, opening the sleek, black refrigerator and surveying the contents. Ketchup, mustard, mayo, butter, a few bottles of beer, and a white cardboard takeout Chinese container so far past its prime that he could no longer recall what was inside.
    He removed the container and, without opening it, deposited it in the garbage can. What he wouldn’t give for leftovers from that meal Jordan Curry had served last night!
    Thinking about her chicken cordon bleu made him hungry.
    Thinking about her made him hungry, too, he reluctantly admitted to himself. She hadn’t been far from his thoughts all day, and try as he might, he hadn’t been able to talk himself out of calling her.
    Calling Spencer, he amended.
    But of course, Jordan would answer the phone. They would have to have some kind of conversation. Perhaps she would be friendlier today than she had been when he left last night. Maybe something would click between the two of them and …
    What the heck are you thinking, Beau?
    He didn’t want something to flare up between them. He didn’t want another romantic entanglement. Look what had happened with Lisa. In the end, he had realized he was only using her. It wasn’t fair to her. That was what he had tried to make her see when they broke up. That she deserved better than him. She deserved a man who was willing to build a future. Not one who was shattered by the past.
    His mouth set grimly, Beau strode back to the living room, ignoring the cordless telephone receiver. He reached past it for the newspaper and settled back on the couch.
    He would not call Jordan Curry’s house. At least, not right now. He was feeling too frustrated, too vulnerable.
    For now, he would just sit here and read the paper to take his mind off Jordan and Spencer.
    And it worked.
    Until he stumbled across the photo accompanying an article on the last page of the national news section.
    “Do I have to take a bath? “Spencer mumbled sleepily as Jordan escorted him into the guest bathroom, where she had already started running the tub.
    Did he have to take a bath? Frankly, Jordan had no idea. Phoebe hadn’t said anything about it, and it wasn’t as if he had been rolling around in the mud. But there were faint orange stains around the corners of his mouth from the canned spaghetti he’d had for dinner, and he must have splashed soda or something on a clump of his hair, because it felt like broom bristles.
    “Yes, you have to take a bath,” Jordan said firmly.
    “But I’m too tired.”
    He did look exhausted. And his head had been drooping dangerously close to his bowl of spaghetti earlier at the table.
    Jordan had heated up leftover chicken and greens from last night for herself, but every bite reminded her of the man she’d just as soon forget. It didn’t help that Spencer brought up the topic of Beau and the zoo every chance he got.
    “It’ll just be a short bath,” she