In His Brother's Place

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.”