Her fragrance was familiar.

It was the one he remembered from that night in his car—the night that had changed everything.

He’d wanted Angie Montoya from the first time he’d seen her with his brother. He’d wanted her that night, and, damn his soul, he wanted her now.

“Jordan …” Her lush lips shaped his name. “I need …”

He silenced her with a gentle kiss. As her mouth opened in invitation, the kiss deepened. She moaned and stretched on tiptoe to lift her hips closer to his erection. Jordan hauled her upward, grinding her against him. She was gasping by the time he found the zipper at the back of her dress.

That night in the car, they’d managed to stop before things got out of control.

But there would be no stopping now.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to my very first Mills & Boon® Desire™ novel. After a long line of historicals, I’m thrilled to be lending a new voice to these powerful, passionate stories.

While writing this book, I fell in love with my characters. Fiercely independent, Angie carried on when the death of her fiancé left her alone and pregnant. Now, as she struggles to raise her son, can she find happiness with a former enemy—the twin brother of the man she loved?

Jordan had long believed Angie was after his brother’s money. Now her young son, Lucas, is the only surviving link to his twin—and the heir to Justin’s fortune. Jordan is determined to raise the boy as his own. But proud, stubborn Angie is part of the package—and he can’t stop thinking about her.

One of my favorite characters has no lines to speak. He’s a rescue dog, saved from death row by the love of a little boy. I’m hoping Rudy’s story will inspire someone out there to adopt a homeless pet or support a group that works to help these innocent animals.

Before closing, I’d like to thank two of the people who made this book possible—Desire senior editor Stacy Boyd for taking a chance on “something different,” and my wonderful editor Elizabeth Mazer, whose patience and encouragement got me this far and whose gifted touch added the polish to make my story shine.

Love to you all. Enjoy.

Elizabeth

About the Author

ELIZABETH LANE has lived and traveled in many parts of the world, including Europe, Latin America and the Far East, but her heart remains in the American West, where she was born and raised. Her idea of heaven is hiking a mountain trail on a clear autumn day. She also enjoys music, animals and dancing. You can learn more about Elizabeth by visiting her website at www.elizabethlaneauthor.com.

In His
Brother’s Place
Elizabeth Lane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

One

Santa Fe, New Mexico

“You’re sure about the boy—and his mother?” Jordan’s grip tightened on the phone.

“You’re the one who has to be sure, Mr. Cooper.” The private investigator’s voice was as flat as a digitized recording. “The packet’s on its way to your ranch by courier—birth certificate, hospital records, the mother’s address and several discreet photos. Once you’ve seen everything, you can draw your own conclusion. If you need follow-up—”

“No, there’ll be nothing else. I’ll transfer your fee as soon as I’ve seen the documents.”

Jordan ended the call with a click. The packet would be arriving from Albuquerque within the hour. If his hunch was right, it would hold enough legal and emotional dynamite to blast his well-ordered world into chaos.

Stepping away from the desk, he stared out the window of his study, which commanded a vista of open ranchland stretching toward the horizon. In the distance, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, rich with autumn color, glimmered in the November sunlight. This was Cooper land, as it had been for more than a hundred years. When his mother died it would pass to him as the sole surviving heir of the family trust. He was the last Cooper heir—or so he’d thought. But if the report confirmed what he suspected …

Jordan turned away from the window, leaving the thought unfinished. It wasn’t too late to back off, he reminded himself. When the packet arrived, he could burn the damned thing unopened or shove it through the shredder. But he’d only be destroying paper. Nothing could erase the memory of Angelina Montoya or change the reality of what she’d done to his family.

Especially now.

Jordan’s eyes shifted toward the far wall, bare except for a group of framed family photos. The largest showed two young men grinning over a stringer of freshly caught rainbow trout. Their features were so nearly identical that a visitor would’ve been hard pressed to tell which was Jordan and which was his twin brother, Justin.

When the picture was taken the two had still been close. Three years later, Justin had fallen for dark-eyed Angie Montoya, hostess in an upscale Mexican restaurant off the Plaza. His determination to marry her had torn the family apart.

Convinced the woman was a gold digger, Jordan and his parents had taken every action they could think of to separate the couple. The resulting schism between the brothers had never had a chance to heal. Rushing home from a ski trip on the eve of Angie’s birthday, Justin had flown his Cirrus SR22 plane into a storm and crashed into a Utah mountain.

Grief had dragged Jordan’s father into an early grave and made a bitter old woman of his mother. As for Angie Montoya, she had simply vanished—until last week when, after nearly four years, Jordan had come across her name. Searching further, he’d found a picture that had him on the phone within the hour with the best private investigator in the state. He’d wanted answers, and now he was about to get them. The report would almost surely confirm what Jordan had suspected.

Angelina Montoya had not only stolen Justin from his family—she had stolen Justin’s son.

Albuquerque

“You’ve been working hard on that picture, Lucas.” Angie swiveled her chair away from the bedroom computer hutch to give her son her full attention. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Lucas held out the drawing—three lopsided stick figures sketched in crayon on a sheet of copy paper. “It’s our family. This short one is me. This one with long black hair is you.”

“And who’s this, up here at the top?” Anticipating the answer, Angie felt her throat tighten.

“That’s Daddy, up in heaven. He’s looking out for us, just like you said.”

“That’s right. Do you want to put this picture on the fridge to remind us?”

“Okay.” Clutching his masterpiece, the boy scampered down the hall toward the tiny kitchen. Angie gulped back a surge of emotion. It wasn’t easy, living with daily reminders of Justin. But she’d wanted to make sure Lucas didn’t feel fatherless. She kept Justin’s framed portrait at the boy’s bedside and an album of snapshots on the bookshelf, within his reach. His small fingers had worn the pages thin at the corners.

Most of the photos showed Justin and Angie together or Justin alone. There were no pictures of Justin’s family. After the way they’d treated her, she wanted nothing to do with any of them—especially Jordan.

It was Jordan who’d come on her birthday to bring the news of Justin’s death. He hadn’t said much, but Jordan’s manner had made his feelings clear. Weeks earlier, the family had offered her fifty thousand dollars to walk away from Justin. If she’d taken it, Justin would still be alive.

Angie would never forget the bitterness in those contemptuous gray eyes. How could two brothers who looked so much alike be so different? Justin had been warm and loving, quick to laugh and quick to forgive. The thought of Jordan conjured up words like cold, judgmental, mercenary …

And manipulative. She’d had firsthand experience with that particular trait of his.

The sound of the door buzzer broke into her thoughts. “I’ll get it!” Lucas called.

“Stop right there, mister. You know better.” Striding into the living room, she scooped him up in her arms. Their cramped two-bedroom apartment was affordable, but the neighborhood wasn’t the best. When someone came to the door, Angie made it a rule to send Lucas to his room until she knew the situation was safe. Maybe by next year, if her web design business continued to grow, she’d have the money to rent a small house with a fenced yard. Until then …

The doorbell buzzed again, twice. Setting Lucas on his play rug, Angie closed the bedroom door and hurried back down the hall. She didn’t get many visitors here, and she certainly wasn’t expecting company. Any unexpected knock tended to raise her suspicions.

Jordan tensed as the light, rapid footsteps approached. Seeing Angie again was bound to be awkward as hell. Maybe he should have sent somebody else first—someone who could assess the situation without putting the woman on her guard. But no, whatever waited on the other side of that door, he was duty-bound to face up to it. He needed to do the right thing—for his family legacy, for his brother’s memory … even for Angie, if time had mellowed out her stubborn streak enough to let her see reason.

The dead bolt slid back. The latch clicked. Jordan held his breath as the door opened to the width allowed by the security chain.

Eyes the hue of rich black coffee stared up at him—eyes framed by lush, feathery lashes. Jordan had almost forgotten how stunning those eyes could be. He watched them widen, then narrow suspiciously.

“What do you want, Jordan?” Her husky little voice, taut with strain, pricked his memory.

“For starters, I’d like to come in.”

“Why?” She made no move to unfasten the chain.

It seemed her stubborn streak hadn’t mellowed in the slightest. “So I won’t have to stand out here and talk to you through this blasted door.”

“I can’t imagine we’d have anything worth saying to each other.”

Jordan’s thin-drawn patience snapped. “You have a choice, Angie,” he growled. “Let me in so we can talk like civilized people, or I’ll shout loud enough to be heard all over the building. Either way, I’m not leaving until you hear what I came to say.” He paused, reminding himself that it wouldn’t do any good to threaten her. “Who knows,” he added, “this might be something you’ll want to hear.”

He braced himself for a stinging retort. Instead, she simply closed the door. Jordan waited in the silence. Seconds crawled past before he heard the rattle of the chain. Slowly the door swung open.

He willed himself to look at the apartment first. The living room was bright and clean, the walls freshly painted, the slipcovered sofa decorated with red, blue and yellow cushions. But the place didn’t look much bigger than one of Jordan’s horse stalls. The building itself was run down with no security system at all—anyone could walk in off the street, as he had done. And he had seen what was outside—the loitering teens, the gang graffiti on the walls. If this was the best Angie could afford, she had to be struggling financially.

There was no sign of her son. Only a battered copy of Goodnight Moon on the coffee table betrayed the presence of a child in the apartment. She would’ve put the boy out of sight, of course. Maybe that was the reason she’d taken so long to undo the chain latch.

As he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, Angie moved into Jordan’s line of vision. She was dressed in a simple black tee and faded jeans that fit her shapely body without being provocatively tight. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders in silky waves. Her feet were bare, the toenails painted a soft baby pink.

She was still seductively beautiful. But Jordan had been aware of that even before his brother fell in love with her—and afterward, too.

He braced himself against the replay of that unguarded moment in his car, the taste of her tears, the willing heat of her ripe mouth, the sinuous fit of her curves in his arms. It had been a mistake—one that hadn’t been repeated. He’d done his best to block the memory. But forgetting a woman like Angie was easier said than done.

He cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?”

“There’s room on the sofa.” She was clearly ill at ease. He imagined she would have liked to settle herself in a chair on the other side of the room, but aside from the couch, there was nowhere else to sit other than the floor. After Jordan had taken his seat, she perched on the padded arm at the far end, her toes working their way beneath the seat cushion.

Jordan shifted his position to face her. She didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t blame her. But somehow he had to make her listen. He had to make this right—for Justin’s sake.

If he could help his brother’s son and the woman Justin had wanted for his wife, then maybe his brother’s soul would forgive him … and perhaps someday, Jordan could forgive himself.

Jordan hadn’t changed. Angie studied the frigid gray eyes, the pit bull set of his jaw, the unruly brown hair with the boyish cowlick at the crown. If he smiled he’d look a lot like Justin. But she’d hardly ever seen Jordan smile, at least not at her.

The sight of him had sent her pulse careening like a cornered animal’s. Jordan had the face of the man she’d loved. But his heart was solid granite. If he’d taken the trouble to track her down, she could be sure it wasn’t out of kindness.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Internet. Your name was on a web site you’d designed for a printing business. Pure chance that it caught my eye, but after I saw it I was curious. I clicked through to your page and saw the photo of you working at your computer. I couldn’t help noticing you weren’t alone.”

Angie’s heart dropped as his words sank home. A neighbor had taken the picture. At the last second, Lucas had moved in so close that the lower edge of the frame showed the top of his head from the back.

A sick fear crept over her. She could have cropped the photo. Such a simple precaution. Why hadn’t she done it? What had she been thinking?

But the picture couldn’t have told Jordan enough to bring him here. Angie’s temper flashed as the truth dawned. “You had me investigated, didn’t you?”

His jaw tightened. “Where’s the boy, Angie? Where’s Lucas?”

“You have no right to ask!” She was on guard now, a tigress ready to strike in defense of her cub. “Lucas is my son. My son!”

“And my brother’s son. I have a copy of the birth certificate. You listed Justin as the father. I’m assuming that’s the truth.”

Something crumbled inside her. “I did that for Lucas, so he’d know. But Justin …” She gulped back a surge of emotion. “He never even knew I was pregnant. I was going to tell him when he came home for my birthday.”

“So you were never married. Not even secretly.”

“No. You needn’t worry on that account, Jordan. I have no claim on your family’s precious money or anything else. So go away and leave us alone.”

She studied his face for some sign that her words had made an impact. But his expression could have been chiseled in basalt.

“You might have told us,” he said. “It would’ve meant a lot to my parents, knowing Justin had left a child.”

“Your parents hated me! How could I expose my innocent baby to those ugly feelings?”

“I want to see the boy.”

No! Angie’s heart slammed. She’d had no warning, no time to prepare Lucas for this.

“I don’t think—” she began. But it was too late. She heard the opening of the bedroom door and the cautious tread of small sneakers. Evidently, Lucas had grown tired of waiting and decided to check things out for himself.

Short of lunging for her son, there was little Angie could do. She watched in mute horror as Lucas emerged from the hallway and caught sight of their visitor.

His brown eyes opened wide. Then his face lit with joyous wonder. “Daddy!” he cried, racing across the room. “Daddy, you came back!”

Daddy?

It was the last thing Jordan had expected—this pint-size bundle of energy hurtling toward him, flinging eager arms around his knees. A sense of helplessness crept over him. Lord, did the boy think he was Justin?

He lifted his gaze to meet Angie’s. She looked as if she’d been punched hard enough to break a rib. With visible effort she found her voice. “He has Justin’s picture. I’ve told him that his daddy’s in heaven, but he’s so young …” The words trailed off. Her eyes pleaded for Jordan’s understanding.

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

Angie 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.

“My calendar’s clear for tomorrow,” he said. “I was thinking Lucas would like to see more of the ranch—with you along, of course.”

Hadn’t he resolved to keep his distance? Angie squelched the urge to argue. Lucas, she knew, would love an outing. “What a coincidence. My calendar’s clear, too,” she said.

“I know you’ve ridden a little. We can take horses up to the springs for a picnic. You’ll want to hold Lucas on your lap, but I’ve got a gentle old mare that’ll be fine with that.”

“Sounds good.” It was like Jordan, she thought, to plan the day and assume she’d just go along. Justin would’ve come up with the idea, then left her to carry out the details.

The silence had grown awkward. Angie scrambled for a new subject. “I’m surprised you aren’t married by now, Jordan,” she said.

“I was. Three years ago. Needless to say, it didn’t work out.”

“May I ask what happened?”

“About what you’d expect. She wanted a social life. I was always working. I wanted a family. She wanted fun. Somebody else came along.” He took a sip of Cabernet. “Can’t say I blame her for what happened. After eight months we were both ready to pull the plug.”

“You wanted a family?” Somehow that surprised her.

“After Justin’s loss, I felt I owed it to my parents to continue the Cooper line. But it was a bad idea. I don’t have the patience to be a decent husband, let alone a decent father.”

Angie had gone cold beneath her sweater. Was this why Jordan had brought Lucas here—to serve as the ready-made family heir?

It was a monstrous burden to place on a small boy. But then, she should’ve guessed what Jordan had in mind. He wasn’t thinking of Lucas. He was looking for a convenient way to discharge his family duty.

What would that mean for her? Was Jordan planning to ease her out of the picture? What if she chose to leave? What if she met someone and wanted to get married? Would Jordan fight her to keep his brother’s son?

Her first impulse was to confront him. But a blowup on her first night here wouldn’t be wise. She would bide her time, Angie resolved. She would watch and be wary. Any decision she made would be in the best interest of her son.

Even if it meant taking him away from this place.

She stared down at her half-finished plate, her appetite gone. “I should get back to Lucas,” she said, standing. “He might wake up and be frightened.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Jordan had risen, too.

“No, it’s all right. Finish your dinner.” She spun away from the table and plunged into the shadowed living room. With her eyes unaccustomed to the darkness, she could just make out the stairs. She headed straight for them.

“Angie! Wait—!”

Something crashed to the tiles as she stumbled against a side table. Her first frantic thought was that whatever she’d broken had to be expensive. As far as she knew, Meredith Cooper had never paid less than eight hundred dollars for a piece of pottery.

Her second thought was that she’d hurt herself. A sharp throbbing came from just above her knee, where she’d struck the edge of the table. Clutching the spot, she crumpled onto a nearby footstool.

“Are you all right?” Jordan’s face emerged from the darkness. He crouched beside her.

“I’ll pay for what I broke,” she muttered between clenched teeth. “No matter how much it cost or how long it takes… .”

“The damned thing’s insured. Don’t worry about it. Let’s have a look at you.”

Switching on a table lamp, he lifted her hand away from the injury. As his fingertips explored the rising lump, their touch sent shimmers of heat up her thighs. She was acutely aware of his nearness, the scent of his hair, the sound of his breathing. A moist ache stirred in the depths of her body.

“You’ve got a nasty bruise,” he said. “We keep an ice bag in the kitchen. Hang on. I’ll fill it for you.”

“Please don’t bother. I’ll be fine.” Her heart was pounding. She needed to get away.

“No bother. It’ll only take a minute.” Rising, he strode back through the dining room and through the swinging door into the kitchen.

Angie waited until the door had closed behind him. Then she pushed to her feet, limped out to the patio and fled up the outside stairs.

Lucas was asleep in his father’s childhood bed, his hair a dark spill on the pillow. Aching with tenderness, Angie gazed down at him. Her son was so precious, so innocent and trusting, and she was all the protection he had.

All she wanted was what was best for him. But how could she know what that was? Was he safer in this place with no gangs, no sirens, no gunshots in the night … or would he be better off far away from the cool, calculating man downstairs whose agenda hadn’t yet come to light?

The boxes from Lucas’s old room were piled next to the bed. Angie had unpacked his clothes but left his toys, books and other small possessions for tomorrow. Now she found herself rummaging through the cardboard cartons, her fingers seeking then finding the familiar shape, the oval frame surrounding a childproof Plexiglas surface.

The moon gleamed through the window, casting its soft light on Justin’s photograph. Angie’s finger brushed the corner of the smiling mouth. This man was Lucas’s father, not the gruff, scheming imposter who masqueraded behind the same face. She would remember that truth in the days ahead, and she would make sure Lucas remembered it, too.

Setting the photo on the nightstand, she turned it toward the bed, where the boy would see it when he awakened. Then, with a last glance at her sleeping son, she tiptoed out of the room.

Three

Jordan was at the kitchen table, drinking his early morning coffee, when a rumpled elf appeared in the doorway. Lucas’s cowlick was standing straight up. His blue-striped T-shirt was inside out and his sneakers trailed untied laces.

He stared at Jordan for a thoughtful moment. “Are you really not my daddy?” he asked.

“I’m really not your daddy.” Jordan tried to ignore the unaccustomed tug at his emotions. “I’m your uncle Jordan, and that’s what you can call me.” He looked the boy up and down. “I take it you dressed yourself. Where’s your mother?”

“Mommy’s asleep.” His wide dark eyes, so like Angie’s, roamed the kitchen. “I’m hungry. What’s to eat?”

Jordan rose. Most days, coffee was all the breakfast he wanted. Marta wouldn’t be here till after eight, and it was barely seven. He could hardly let a child go hungry that long. “What do you like?” he asked.

“Pancakes.”

“All right, I’ll see what I can do.” There was a box of pancake mix in the cupboard. Gathering dishes and utensils, Jordan set to work. The first three pancakes stuck to the griddle and ended up in the trash. On the next try he had better luck. He was able to drop three respectable-looking pancakes onto Lucas’s plate.

The boy stared at the pancakes and shook his head.

“Now what’s the matter?” Jordan demanded.

“Mommy makes pancakes like a teddy bear. I want a teddy bear.”

Blast it, where was the boy’s mother? Jordan sighed. “So how do I make a teddy bear?”

“Like this.” Lucas arranged the pancakes to form a head and ears. “But the head is bigger and they’re all stuck together.”

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jordan muttered as he spooned batter onto the hot griddle. With careful turning he just managed to get his creation off in one piece. “How’s this?” he asked as he eased it onto the plate.

“Not as good as Mommy’s. But you’ll do better next time.”

Jordan turned off the stove, added butter and syrup to the lopsided teddy bear pancake and poured a glass of milk. Then he sat down to finish his lukewarm coffee. Lucas was digging into his pancake like a little trooper.

Justin’s son.

Jordan sensed impending chaos. He was just beginning to realize how a child—and that child’s mother—would affect his well-ordered life. Having them here wouldn’t be easy. But if anything could be done to repay the terrible debt he owed his family …

“Lucas Montoya! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Angie stood in the doorway, hastily dressed in jeans and a pink T-shirt. Her feet were bare, her hair tousled, her face a thundercloud.

Two thoughts flashed through Jordan’s mind. The first was that, even early in the morning, Angelina Montoya was one sexy woman. He could get used to seeing her like that—uncombed and sleepy-eyed, her feet bare and her shirt clinging to her trim little body. The second thought, more sobering, was that she hadn’t given Lucas his father’s name. Sooner or later, whether she liked it or not, that would have to be remedied.

“Uncle Jordan made me a teddy bear pancake.” Lucas flashed her a syrupy grin.

“Oh?” She frowned. “You didn’t have to do that, Jordan. I’ve made my son’s breakfast every day of his life. There’s no reason that should change.”

She was glaring at him as if he’d tried to kidnap the boy. Jordan got the message. The battle lines had been drawn. “I was here and he was hungry,” Jordan said. “Sit down and I’ll make you some pancakes, too. Do you want teddy bear or regular? I do both.”

“Just coffee. I’ll get my own.”

“Cups are on the second shelf. Help yourself.” Jordan willed himself to be annoyingly cheerful. “Did you tell Lucas we were going out for a ride this morning?”

“A ride? On horses? Like cowboys?” Lucas was all eyes and ears.

“Maybe.” Angie sat down at the table and swirled cream into her coffee. A bewitching spark danced in her mahogany eyes. “First show me how fast you can finish your breakfast, get cleaned up and make your bed. Then we’ll see. OK?”

“OK! I’ll be lightning fast, you’ll see!” He cleaned his plate and dashed for the door. Picking up her coffee, Angie strode after him.

Jordan followed her with his eyes. Angie was a good mother—loving, firm and protective. She’d done a fine job of raising Lucas on her own. But the boy was a Cooper. Justin would want him to have everything this ranch, and the Cooper money, could provide for him.

Jordan was just beginning to realize what he’d taken on. This wasn’t a short-term arrangement. Justin’s son wouldn’t be of age for another fifteen years. As things stood now, Angie had full legal custody of the boy. She could leave tomorrow and take him anywhere she chose. She could even meet someone, marry and allow her new husband to adopt Lucas.

Jordan knew he couldn’t let that happen.

It would take good lawyer to help secure Lucas’s place in the family. The legal process was bound to take time, especially if Angie chose to fight him at every turn. For now, it would be up to him to make damned sure the woman was happy enough to stay put.

He couldn’t bring Justin back or undo the tragic events he’d helped set in motion. But restoring his brother’s son in the Cooper family might, at least, grant him a measure of redemption.

By nine o’clock they were on the trail. The docile bay Jordan had chosen for Angie moseyed along at a plodding gait. Lucas, sitting astride her lap, giggled with delight. What could be more exciting than a ride on a real horse?

The well-worn path wound through piñon-covered hills to descend into a broad arroyo where spikes of yucca and clumps of blooming chamisa rose against adobe-colored ledges. Some distance ahead, Angie knew, the way would narrow, ending where a waterfall cascaded down the canyon wall.

The last time she’d ridden this trail, it had been with Justin. They’d taken a picnic to the waterfall and made love at sunset on the blanket they’d brought. Now it was Jordan who rode beside her on the splendid palomino she recognized as Justin’s former favorite.

Her bruised knee twinged as she shifted in the saddle. Her face flamed at the memory of last night—Jordan’s hand gliding up her leg. In the embarrassment of the moment, she hadn’t really noticed just how intimate it had been, letting him touch her like that. Remembering it now, the intensity of her response shocked her. She tried to tell herself it was because he looked so much like Justin. But that didn’t explain it. Justin was gone, and behind that well-loved face was a very different man.

Today, dressed in faded denims, a western-style shirt and a weathered Stetson, Jordan looked more at ease than Angie had ever seen him. He sat a horse as if he’d begun riding at Lucas’s age, which he probably had.

They said little, depending on Lucas’s chatter to fill the awkward silence. He talked mostly to Jordan, asking childish questions that Jordan answered with surprising patience.

“Are you a real cowboy, Uncle Jordan?”

“I just play at being a cowboy. But there are some real cowboys on the ranch. They work here, taking care of the cows and horses.”

“Can I be a cowboy, too?”

“Maybe not a real one. But you can play at it, like I do.”

“Can I have a horse?”

“Lucas,” Angie warned, “you mustn’t ask Uncle Jordan to give you things.”

Jordan’s gaze narrowed. “Before you get a horse you’ll have to be big enough to take care of it. That’s going to take some time. But you might be old enough for a puppy.”

“A puppy!” Lucas squirmed with excitement.

“Only if your mother says it’s all right, of course.”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Angie gave Jordan an annoyed glance. It wasn’t that she’d mind having a puppy around. Lucas would love a dog. But why couldn’t the man have asked her first?

She needed to have some serious words with him. Just because she’d agreed to move out to the ranch, that didn’t mean that she was going to let Jordan take over her life, or Lucas’s. He had no right to make decisions about her son’s care.

For the sake of Lucas’s safety, she’d live under the same roof with the man. She’d even force herself to be civil. But she wasn’t going to let herself fall for the “concerned uncle” act. She’d continue to monitor every conversation with him with a healthy dose of suspicion.

It didn’t matter that four years had passed. Jordan still had his own agenda. And she could never trust him to be on her side.

Angie’s chance to bring up the puppy came after lunch. They’d spread a blanket on the grass at the base of the waterfall, where they’d feasted on Marta’s cheese empanadas and piñon nut cookies. Lucas’s presence had kept their conversation on neutral ground, but now he was curled on the blanket, fast asleep in the warm sunlight.

“Looks like we could be here awhile.” Jordan leaned back against a boulder and crossed his long, booted legs at the ankle.

“I’m afraid so.” Angie felt strangely tongue-tied. “Wake him now and he’ll be as cranky as a little bear.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” His slow grin was so like Justin’s that Angie felt a lump rise in her throat.

“About that puppy,” she said.

His only response was the subtle twitch of one eyebrow.

“You should know better, Jordan.” She spoke in an impassioned whisper. “Getting Lucas’s hopes up before you’ve cleared it with me—it’s unfair. Worse, it’s underhanded. If I say no, I’ll be the villain.”

His expression didn’t change. “Why say no? The boy could use a playmate. A dog would be good for him.”

“Maybe. But that’s not your decision to make. I’m his mother. I’ll decide when he’s ready for a pet.”

“He’s my brother’s son.” Jordan’s eyes had gone hard. “Shouldn’t I have something to say about that, too?”

“Your brother’s son!” It was all Angie could do to keep from raising her voice and waking Lucas. “You’ve known him for less than a week. How could you possibly know what would be good for him? Were you there when he was born? Did you change him and feed him and walk the floor when he cried all night?” A surge of emotion cracked her voice. She gulped back tears.

“Angie, all I did was suggest we get him a puppy.”

“And now he’s got his hopes up. You should’ve asked me first. I’d have told you to wait.”

“Why wait? A pup would help him settle in.”

Angie glanced down at her sleeping son. “So far, he’s settling in fine. But what if we don’t stay? Do you have any idea how hard it is to rent with a dog? If we had to leave the poor thing behind, Lucas would be heartbroken.”

“Why wouldn’t you stay?” He sat upright, leaning toward her. Angie’s pulse slammed as his steely eyes locked with hers. “I’ve told you to consider this your home—yours and Lucas’s.”

Angie felt the jaws of a velvet-cloaked trap closing around her. She shook her head. “It may sound selfish, Jordan, but I can’t give up my whole life to raise Lucas here—and if opportunities lead me elsewhere, then I won’t be leaving alone. I certainly won’t give up my son.”

“But there’s no reason why you’d have to go away to find opportunities. Nobody said you had to give up your life. You’ll have a car. You can go into town, even work if you choose—and you’ll get the chance to meet new friends. In fact, I’m having a party here this weekend.”

“I can just imagine how I’d fit with your crowd—the poor girl from the barrio who got knocked up by your brother!”

Angie saw his mouth tighten. She plunged ahead before he could respond.

“And what about you? You could easily remarry and have children of your own. Then Lucas and I would be nothing but excess baggage. Your wife certainly wouldn’t want us here.”

“Damn it, Angie, why are you making it so hard for—”

His words broke off as Lucas stirred, whimpered and opened his eyes. “Hi, Uncle Jordan,” he mumbled. “Is it time to go home?”

“Anytime you say, buddy.”

He sat up. “Can I ride with you on your horse?”

Jordan glanced at Angie. “That’s up to your mother.”

“It’s fine.” Angie gathered up the picnic things so Lucas wouldn’t see the aggravation on her face. Jordan could have invented a reason to say no. Instead, he’d made her the potential villain. He was good at that—putting her in a position where she couldn’t refuse without sounding like a meanie.

Jordan boosted Lucas onto the front of his saddle and swung up behind him. Lucas’s grin almost split his small face. Angie sighed. She was already losing the battle to protect her son from this manipulative man—a man who was sure to break his trusting young heart.

Jordan spent the afternoon doing paperwork in his office. He’d hoped to see Angie at dinner, maybe mend some fences with her. But he entered the dining room to find the table set for one.

When asked, Carlos explained that Angie was working on her computer. She’d come down earlier and taken a tray to her room for her and the boy.

The message was clear. He’d blown it this morning, offering Lucas a puppy without asking her first, then trying to justify himself. If he didn’t want the woman to pack up and leave, he’d be smart to apologize—on his knees if necessary.

He considered going up to her room, then thought the better of it. Angie needed her private space where she could feel safe, even from him.

Especially from him.

What had gone wrong this morning? He’d wanted the outing to be pleasant. But Angie had been as prickly as a cactus, and he’d pretty much responded in kind. If Lucas hadn’t awakened, their clash might have erupted into a full-scale blowup.

They’d been on edge all morning. But Jordan knew it hadn’t really been about the dog. It had been about Justin.

The old memory flashed through his mind—Justin’s fist crashing into his jaw, then the slamming of a door. Lord, if only he’d known what would happen next… .

But he couldn’t change the past. He could only try to rebuild the future as best he could. That was why he needed Lucas.

Maybe he should come clean with Angie, tell her the whole story. But that would be a bad idea. If Angie knew the truth about how Justin had died, and his own part in the tragedy, she’d never speak to him again. She’d take Lucas and be gone in the time it took to pack her car.

It was after 10:00 p.m. when Angie carried the dinner tray down to the kitchen. Switching on the light above the sink, she took a moment to rinse and stack the dishes.

In darkness once more, she walked out onto the patio. A whimper escaped her lips as she lowered herself to a stone bench. She hadn’t been on a horse in years and her thigh muscles screamed from the morning ride. The long day had worn her out, but before sleep she needed a few minutes to clear her head.

The old Spanish fountain tinkled in the stillness. Beyond the adobe walls, a waning moon hung above the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The night breeze carried a hint of autumn chill. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jordan’s voice, from the shadows behind her, kicked Angie’s pulse to a gallop.

“I saw the light come on in the kitchen,” he said. “Is there anything you need?”

She shook her head.

“I missed you at dinner. Especially since I’d planned to apologize for my high-handedness this morning.”

An apology from the almighty Jordan Cooper? Her instincts sprang to high alert. “I was working,” she said. “My clients depend on me to keep their websites updated.”

“Something tells me you work too hard.” His hands came to rest on her shoulders, strong thumbs slipping around to massage the knotted muscles at the back of her neck. The voice of caution whispered that Jordan never did anything without a purpose. Until she was sure what he was after, she should avoid accepting any favors from him. And that meant she should pull away. But his touch was pure heaven. She could feel the tension draining from her tired body. She closed her eyes.

“Feel good?” His hands moved lower to ease the tightness between her shoulder blades. She quivered as his fingers skimmed the fastening of her bra through her thin shirt.

“Mmm-hmm …” she purred.

“Since you’re likely hurting from our morning ride, I can offer something even better. The pool’s drained and covered for the season, but there’s a hot tub on the other side of that wall. Be my guest.”

Once again caution reared its head, reminding her of her resolve not to give in to his attempts to win her over. Yet the thought of that warm water easing her misery was like a siren’s call. But better safe than sorry, Angie reminded herself. “It sounds lovely,” she hedged, “but—”

“But you don’t have a bathing suit? No problem. There’s a dressing room close by. My mother kept robes and a basket of spare suits in there for guests. You’re bound to find something that’ll do for a dark night. Go on, now, you’ve run out of excuses. I’ll get it warmed up.”

This was a mistake, Angie chided herself as she rummaged through the oversize laundry basket. Every minute she spent with Jordan ripped away another layer of her defenses, leaving her raw and exposed. He was so like Justin, yet so different—and in all the wrong ways.

As for the swimsuits, most of them looked as if they’d been here since the 1940s. Here was a black bikini bottom that looked as if it might fit her. But the top was impossibly big. Never mind, she’d just wear her pink T-shirt.

Kicking off her jeans and underpants she pulled on the brief. As an afterthought, she unhooked her bra, worked it out from under her shirt and tossed it onto a bench with the rest of her clothes. Draping a white terry robe over her arm she followed the stone path around the garden wall.

Trust the Coopers not to have an ordinary hot tub. This one was built of native stone set low in the ground like a grotto. On one side, desert plants added to the natural setting. The other side was open to a sweeping view of the mountains.

By now the night air had grown chilly. A shimmering curtain of steam rose from the water’s rippling surface.

Angie laid the robe on a stool and stepped down into the delicious warmth. Settling onto the lip of the underwater bench, she sank up to her shoulders and closed her eyes. Heaven.

Smiling blissfully, she opened her eyes. Only then did Angie realize she wasn’t alone. From the far side of the hot tub, Jordan’s face grinned back at her.

Four

“I didn’t know this was going to be a party.” Angie’s voice was edgy, her manner clearly distrustful. Maybe she thought he was out to seduce her.

That hadn’t been Jordan’s intent. He’d only hoped to put her at ease, maybe relax her enough for a civil conversation that wouldn’t end in her storming off to her room. But seeing her like this, with damp curls framing her face and that pink shirt clinging to her skin, was putting all the wrong ideas into his head. Time to defuse the tension.

“Should I have made margaritas?” he joked. “I can, you know. Just ask.”

“I’ll pass, thanks. This is an amazing hot tub. I don’t remember it from before.”

Before, meaning when she was here with Justin.

“I had it built for my mother, to help her arthritis.” And his mother hadn’t used it even once, Jordan recalled. She’d moved out soon after it was finished.

“How was Lucas after the ride?” Jordan changed the subject. “Did he say he enjoyed it?”

“It’s all he’s talked about. That and getting a puppy.” She lifted dripping hands to slick back her hair, raising her breasts above the water. The outline of her nipples through the wet pink fabric sent a stab of heat to his loins. His swelling erection strained the crotch of his swim trunks.

This wasn’t in the plan. He’d been attracted to Angie all along, and would have jumped at the chance to get her in his bed. But she’d been his brother’s girl. Except for that single slip-up in his car, he’d done an admirable job of keeping his thoughts above his belt and his hands to himself.

Now here she was, warm, sexy and no longer Justin’s girl—but still off limits. The irony of it was driving him crazy.

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