In His Brother's Place (2 page)

With a firm hand, Jordan peeled the boy off his legs and
boosted him onto the edge of the coffee table. The investigator had included
some pictures in his packet, but they’d all been from a distance, at skewed
angles as the photographer tried to avoid attention and stay out of sight. This
was his first good, clear look at the boy.

If he’d had any doubts the child was Justin’s, they vanished at
once. Lucas had his mother’s vivid
Latina
coloring,
but aside from that he was all Cooper. The straight nose, the dimpled chin and
unruly cowlick at the crown of the head mirrored Justin’s features—and
Jordan’s.

Identical twins were genetic copies of each other. This boy
could be his own son.

Lucas regarded him with adoring eyes, but his lower lip
quivered, as if he sensed something was wrong. Maybe he was wondering why his
long lost father wasn’t happier to see him.

Jordan suppressed the urge to jump up and leave. He’d never
spent much time around children, didn’t understand them or even like them much,
truth be told. But the situation called for some kind of response. He cleared
his throat.

“Listen to me, Lucas. I’m not your father. I’m your uncle
Jordan, your father’s brother. We look alike, that’s all. Do you
understand?”

A single tear welled, then trickled down Lucas’s cheek. Jordan
glanced toward Angie. Pain was etched on her lovely, sensual face. From the
moment he’d met her, he’d found himself wondering how it would feel to kiss
those lush, moist lips. Then he’d found out...to his everlasting regret.

“Come here, Lucas.” Angie gathered her son close. Clasping him
fiercely, she glared at Jordan over the boy’s head. “You still haven’t told me
why you’re here,” she said in a glacial voice.

Jordan exhaled. Where to start? He’d rehearsed his speech in
the car. The words he’d chosen struck him as stuffy and arrogant now, but
nothing better came to mind.

“I have a duty to my brother,” he said. “Justin would want his
son to have all the advantages money can buy—a home to be proud of, a quality
education, social and cultural opportunities—advantages you can’t afford to give
him.”

She pulled her son closer. “I can give him love. And when my
business picks up I’ll be able to give him other things, too. If you think I’d
accept one cent of your money—”

“Money isn’t what I had in mind, Angie.”

Her eyes flashed in unmistakable horror. Did she think he was
plotting to take the boy away from her? Picking up on his mother’s distress,
Lucas whimpered.

“Hear me out,” Jordan said. “I’m inviting you and Lucas—
both
of you—to come and live at the ranch. There’s
plenty of room in the house. You could have as much privacy and independence as
you need. You could even continue with your web design business, if you choose
to. As for Lucas—”

“Stop right there! It’s out of the question.” Angie had gone
rigid. Lucas squirmed in her arms, looking as if he were about to cry.

“I said, hear me out. When I’m finished you can make up your
mind.”

With a sigh she boosted Lucas off her lap. “Go back in your
room and play,” she said. “If you’re good, we’ll make popcorn and watch cartoons
tonight.”

As the boy scampered away, she turned back to face Jordan.
“What were you thinking when you came up with this idea?” she demanded. “Your
mother would barely speak to me when Justin was alive. Having me in the house
now, even with Lucas, would be miserable for her—and for us.”

Jordan shook his head. “Two years ago, after my father died, my
mother moved to a retirement condo in town. She says she’ll never go back to the
ranch. Too many memories.”

“So you’re there alone?”

Jordan wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. The
two of them alone together in the house at night with Lucas asleep.... He
squelched the idea before his imagination could seize on it and run off to
forbidden places. He had every reason to despise this woman. But that didn’t
mean he wouldn’t relish having her in his bed. Not that that would ever happen.
She hated him for that single, amazing, train wreck of a kiss just as much as he
hated himself.

“The ranch is never lonely,” he said. “You’d be there with the
housekeeping staff and the stock hands, and of course, you’d have a car. You’d
be free to come and go as you like.”

She glanced down at her hands. In the awkward silence, he read
her unspoken question.

“You wouldn’t see that much of me,” he volunteered. “I spend
three or four days a week at my office in town. And I do a lot of traveling.
Even when I’m home, I don’t wander around looking for company.”

The only sign she’d heard him was the rise of color in her
cheeks. He knew what she must be thinking. Hell, he’d been thinking the same
thing from the moment he saw her.

He took a slow breath. “Let me make this clear. If it’s me
you’re worried about, know that I won’t lay an improper hand on you or do
anything to make you feel uncomfortable. All I want is what’s best for my
brother’s son.”

Her head came up. “If you want what’s best for him, you’ll go
away and leave us alone.”

Jordan squelched the impulse to reach out and seize her
shoulders. “Blast it, woman, look around you. In this neighborhood, your boy
can’t even go outside to play. Think of the life he could have on the ranch—open
spaces, animals, caring people to look after him—”

“No!” She flung the word at him. “I’m not going to sit here and
let you tell me that I’m not capable of raising my son on my own, with my own
resources. This apartment may not be the lap of luxury, but we’re doing just
fine here without the help of you or anyone else. Listen to me, Jordan. My
parents were migrant farm laborers. They worked in the fields from sunup to dark
so their children could have a better life. Sometimes we slept on the ground.
Sometimes we barely had enough to eat. But the one thing we never did was accept
charity. And I’m not accepting your charity now.”

Jordan’s impatience surged. What was wrong with the woman?
Didn’t she understand that what he was offering wasn’t a handout? The ranch was
Lucas’s birthright, and he had just as much right to it as Jordan did. “This
isn’t charity,” he snapped. “Lucas is my brother’s son. He’s entitled to—”

“He’s entitled to learn the value of hard work and have the
satisfaction of earning his way in the world. I can give him that much, at
least.” She rose, trembling. “So take your offer and go. We don’t need your
help. We don’t want it.”

Jordan stood, looming over her. Angie’s head barely came to his
chin, but she looked capable of drawing blood. Time to retreat and regroup.

Scowling down at her, he nodded. “All right, I’ve made the
decent gesture. Because you won’t accept my help, all I can do is leave. But if
you change your mind—”

“I won’t. Goodbye, Jordan.”

Without another word he strode out the door and closed it
behind him. Heading down the hall, he heard the rattle of the chain latch and
the click of the closing dead bolt.

What a proud little thing she was. Jordan couldn’t help but
admire her spirit. But in rejecting his offer, she’d made a foolish decision.
She didn’t deserve another chance.

But Justin’s son deserved every chance, and giving him that
chance was Jordan’s responsibility. He remembered the joy on Lucas’s face when
he thought his father had returned. Now that he’d seen the boy, Jordan knew he
couldn’t just turn his back and walk away. Maybe he couldn’t force Angie to
accept his offer. But he
could
make sure she had a
way to reach him in case she changed her mind.

With a sigh, he fished a business card out of his wallet and
scrawled his private number on the back. Turning around, he slipped the card
under the door. Angie would probably tear it up. But that was a chance he’d have
to take. There was more at stake here than a woman’s pride—far more than
Angelina Montoya could ever know.

Two

A
ngie lay in a tangle of sheets and blankets, her eyes staring up into the darkness. Through the cheap plastic blinds, floodlights cast dingy streaks on the far wall. Out on the street, a motorcycle coughed, roared and faded into the night.

Jordan’s card lay on the nightstand. She should’ve torn it to pieces or, better yet, burned it. She’d have no need to contact him because she had no intention of accepting his offer. She and Lucas were doing all right. They had a roof over their heads, enough to eat, enough to wear and enough spare change to put a few gallons of gas in the ’96 Toyota she drove as little as possible.

But uncertainties dogged her every waking hour. What if her business failed? She’d be lucky to find a job that would pay enough for decent day care. What if she got sick or, worse, what if Lucas did? She could barely afford baby aspirin, let alone medical insurance. What about the years ahead? Could she pay for sports, trips and music lessons? Could she pay for college?

And how would Lucas feel when he found out his father’s family was wealthy, and she’d raised him in poverty rather than take their help?

Today she’d received an offer that could end those worries. Her pride was only part of the reason she’d shown Jordan the door. To give her son a better life, she would have been willing to humble that pride. Maybe if the offer had come from Jordan’s mother, she would have taken it, ignoring the way it would have burned to accept anything from a woman who’d treated her like she was no better than dirt.

So why had she really turned Jordan down?

As if she didn’t know.

The memory of that fateful New Year’s Eve opened in her mind like a big-screen movie. An old schoolmate of the twins had thrown a party at her home. Angie and Justin had driven there together. Jordan had come later, alone.

By the time Jordan arrived, Justin had downed enough liquor to put himself in a party mood. Their recently divorced hostess had been paying him far too much attention. Worse, Justin hadn’t seemed to mind the woman’s advances. After discovering the two of them in the kitchen, locked in a sloppy clinch, Angie had had enough.

Stalking toward the front door, she’d passed Jordan in the entry. Despite their past animosity, he’d appeared like a rescue beacon in a storm. Driven by desperation, she’d asked him to drive her home.

Jordan had found her coat and guided her outside to his waiting Mercedes. The night had been cold, she remembered, but the car was still warm. As she buckled herself into the cushiony leather seat, Angie had felt herself falling apart.

That very morning, in her bathroom, she’d stared in disbelief as the plus sign materialized on her home pregnancy test. She’d spent the rest of the day in shock, wondering when and how to tell Justin. Now what was she going to do?

As the motor purred to life, she’d wiped away a furious tear.

Jordan passed her a tissue box from under the dash. She hadn’t told him what was wrong, but it appeared he’d drawn his own conclusion. “Sorry,” he’d muttered, pulling the car onto the street. “I love my brother but when he gets a few drinks under his belt, he can be a real jackass.”

Angie had huddled in silence, sniffling into the tissues he’d given her. She’d heard that pregnancy made women more emotional. Now she believed it. By the time the Mercedes pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment, she was blubbering like a fool.

Jordan had switched off the key and turned toward her. “Will you be all right, Angie?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.

She’d raised her face to the light, revealing swollen eyes and drizzly streams of mascara down her cheeks. Her throat jerked. Her lips moved in a wordless effort to speak.

He’d mouthed something that might have been a curse. Then, suddenly she was in his arms, sobbing against the shoulder of his leather coat.

He’d held her lightly at first, his lips skimming her hair as he muttered half voiced words of consolation. The manly aroma of his skin, like sagebrush after a rain,
surrounded her with an aura of warmth and safety. His arms were strong, his breath a comforting murmur against her ear. She had no reason to like Jordan Cooper. But tonight she needed him.

She needed him in ways she couldn’t have imagined an hour earlier.

Had it been because her hormones were out of control? Angie wondered, thinking back. Had it been because Justin had hurt her, or because her emotional state had awakened some long-buried urge? She would never know. But even now, she couldn’t deny that she was as much to blame as Jordan for what happened next.

Her face had tilted upward, lips parting expectantly. It had seemed natural that he should kiss her. But she hadn’t anticipated the hungry heat that exploded in the core of her body to race like wildfire through her veins.

A growl of surprise escaped his throat as he felt her response. As the kiss deepened, his arms tightened around her. Whimpering, she caught the back of his head, pulling him down to her. Her fingers raked his thick hair. Her mouth opened to welcome his probing tongue.

His hand had found its way inside her coat. Through the thin silk of her dress, his caresses triggered whorls of exquisite sensation. Angie moaned as his palm cupped her breast. She was spiraling out of control, drunk with wanting more, wanting him. As his fingertip traced a line beneath the hem of her short skirt, her thighs had parted in open invitation...

But something wasn’t right, an inner voice shrilled. This man had never even pretended to be her friend. Scheming, opportunistic Jordan would stop at nothing to break his brother’s engagement.

Suddenly it had all made sense. Jordan meant to sleep with her, tell Justin about it, then celebrate his victory as Justin dumped her and walked away.

And she was playing right into his hands.

“No!”
She’d twisted away from him. Her palm had struck his face in a wrenching slap. Calling him the worst names she could think of, she’d scrambled out of the car. Jordan had made no move to stop her as she fled up the walk.

The following morning Justin had appeared at her door with flowers and apologies. Even after they’d made up, Angie had been hesitant to tell him about her pregnancy. And she’d never told him what had happened in Jordan’s car.

The next time she’d seen Jordan was on her birthday, when he’d come to tell her Justin was dead.

Turning over, Angie punched air into her flattened pillow. She’d never known Jordan Cooper not to have an agenda. And there was no reason to doubt he had one now.

What did he want? Not her. Not sex. An attractive, powerful man like Jordan would have no trouble getting women. The issue was more likely control—legal and financial control over his brother’s son and maybe over her, as well. Whatever Jordan’s game, she’d be a fool to play along. When it came to pulling strings, the man was way out of her league.

Bottom line—she didn’t trust him.

And she wasn’t sure she trusted herself, either.

From the parking lot, curses and the sound of running feet broke into her thoughts. A gunshot rang out, followed by two more. One bullet chunked into a panel below the window. Another cracked through the glass and chipped the door frame on the far side of the room.

“Mama, I’m scared.” Lucas stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching his teddy bear. The bullet had almost hit him.

“Get down! Now!” Angie dived out of bed and pulled her son to the floor. Heart pounding, she lay on the rug, protecting him with her body as another shot shattered the window and slammed into the mattress. An eternity seemed to pass before she heard sirens wailing down the street. Gang fights happened in this part of town, but she’d never known one to come this close.

Lucas had begun to sob. “The police are on their way, Lucas,” Angie whispered. “Lie still. We’ll be safe soon.”

And they
would
be safe, she vowed. She would get her precious son out of this neighborhood and give him a decent life—even if it meant making a deal with the devil.

Inching forward, she switched on the bedside lamp, found Jordan’s card and fumbled for the phone.

* * *

Angie stood on the balcony, gazing down into the courtyard of the rambling Cooper home. The last rays of sunset cast an amber glow over hundred-year-old adobe walls. The tinkle of an ancient stone fountain blended with the distant call of a desert quail.

She’d been here before. But with the sadness of losing Justin coloring her memories, she’d forgotten how enchanting this place was. Justin had told her about the time, money and love his mother had lavished on refurbishing the historic
hacienda.
Everything here was perfect, from the stately, exposed
vigas
that supported the roofs to the Chimayo rugs, the priceless Pueblo pottery and the two Georgia O’Keefe paintings that flanked the great stone fireplace.

Now Jordan lived here by himself. Was he aware of the beauty around him, Angie wondered, or only of its value? What, exactly, made Jordan Cooper tick?

Last night, when she’d phoned him, he’d answered at once; but his manner had been so brusque that she’d suspected he wasn’t alone. At first light, a pickup had arrived with two men from the ranch. They’d boxed up Lucas’s toys, Angie’s computer and their other personal things and had them on the road in less than an hour. Angie, with Lucas in her car, had followed the truck to Santa Fe and from there to the ranch.

Marta, the graying housekeeper, had fed them cheese
quesadillas
and shown them to their rooms on the second floor of the newer guest wing, where their boxes were waiting. The woman had been coldly polite, which puzzled Angie until she remembered that Marta had watched the twins grow up. Justin had been her special pet.

It wasn’t going to be easy living in this house where people viewed her as the enemy. But Lucas seemed happy to be here. She owed it to her son to make this work.

Jordan had yet to show his face. He’d promised to leave her alone, but a word of welcome would have been reassuring. Now, as the twilight deepened around her, Angie couldn’t help feeling like a stranger, unwelcome and unwanted.

* * *

Jordan paused in the shadowed doorway, studying Angie where she stood against the wrought-iron balustrade. She wore a simple turquoise sheath with flat-soled shoes. A white cardigan wrapped her against the evening chill.

For a moment Jordan found himself wishing he could erase the past, stride forward and meet her for the first time. But that was fantasy. Reality was Justin’s absence and Justin’s child—and the misstep that had changed everything.

Stepping into the light, he cleared his throat. “So here you are. Dinner’s on the table. Where’s Lucas?”

“Lucas had a bowl of cereal and went to sleep an hour ago. It’s been a long day for him.”

“Is he all right with the move?”

Her laugh sounded strained. “As far as Lucas is concerned, this place might as well be Disneyland. I’ve never seen him so excited.”

“And how about you?” As she fell into step beside him, Jordan checked the impulse to brush a hand across the small of her back.

“This isn’t about me. I’m here for my son.”

“I didn’t bring you here to punish you, Angie. What do you need?”

“Time, maybe. It’s not your job to make me happy, Jordan. I’m a big girl. I can work things out for myself.”

They’d reached the stone steps that descended to the patio. As she moved ahead, her perfume drifted up to him—a light floral fragrance with a sexy undertone that slammed into his senses, spinning him back in time.

He’d only meant to comfort her that night in his car. But before he knew it the situation had grown too hot to handle. By the time his fingers brushed Angie’s bare thigh, Jordan’s manly urges had taken over. Hang the consequences, he’d wanted her.

Angie’s blistering slap had brought him back to his senses. He’d deserved her rebuke that night, and he’d done his best to accept it as a lesson learned.

But the sweet, hot feel of her had burned into his memory—and into his conscience. Now the damage was done, and there could be no going back.

“I need to apologize for waking you up last night,” she said. “I’d have waited till morning, but after that scare—”

“No, you did the right thing. And you didn’t wake me up. I was just...busy.”

“Oh.” There was a world of knowing in that single syllable.

“I’d have shown up this morning to help you move, but I had some important business in town. I only just got home.”

“Business.” She shook her head. “Justin always said your business was the great love of your life. He claimed that sometimes it was all he could do to drag you away from your desk to spend time with him and your parents.”

They’d entered the older, central part of the house. The living room had been left dark, but lamplight glowed through the open door of the dining room on the far side.

“There’s more than one way to see to family,” Jordan said. “If it weren’t for my investment business, we’d be selling off parcels of land to keep this place solvent. Picture ugly housing tracts in all directions.” He paused, dismissing the subject. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

Jordan’s smile was forced. Just being with Angie ripped open old wounds, probably as much for her as for him. They were both playacting tonight, making believe the past didn’t exist. But how long could they keep up the pretense before the masks fell away?

* * *

The hand-hewn table was medieval in size, a relic of the days when the ranch had entertained flocks of guests. Tonight Angie and Jordan sat alone at the end nearest the kitchen, eating chicken and sausage paella with crisp green salad and red wine. Carlos, Marta’s shy young nephew who’d served the meal, had been friendly. But, then, he hadn’t been here four years ago, Angie reminded herself. Odds were he and Justin would never have met.

Her gaze shifted to her dining partner. She’d never had a problem telling Justin and Jordan apart, mostly because of how they’d behaved toward her. But tonight, with Jordan making an effort to be pleasant, the resemblance was uncanny. Except for the awkwardness that hung between them, it could’ve been Justin sitting across from her, smiling and making small talk.