In His Brother's Place (8 page)

You’re welcome back anytime. But only on those same terms and only if it’s what you want.

His words came back to mock her. Was that what she wanted, another wild night of recreational sex with no strings attached? Or, heaven help her, did she want it to mean something?

Are you in love with him?

Now it was Raquel’s voice she heard in her head. But the question was useless. Angie knew what love was. She’d loved Justin with all her heart and soul. What she felt with Jordan was more like...what? Lust? Need? A burning ring of fire?

You’re welcome back anytime.

She stood trembling on the rug, heat shimmering through her veins. It would be so easy—and the release would feel so good.

One hand reached for the doorknob, paused then dropped to her side. She knew better, Angie chided herself. Another visit to Jordan’s bed would only weaken her in his eyes—and cheapen her in her own. Aside from a fleeting pleasure, nothing good could come of it.

With a sigh, she reached for her nightgown, pulled it on and slipped into bed. There were things she wanted from life—a home to call her own, brothers and sisters for Lucas and a good man to love her.

That man would not be Jordan Cooper.

Eight

J
ordan began bracing himself as he pulled into the parking lot of the retirement community where his mother lived. Their confrontation was bound to be emotional. But he couldn’t put it off any longer—not unless he wanted to lie.

The
Peralta,
as the place was known, was the most exclusive senior residence in Santa Fe. Located off Canyon Road, within strolling distance of art galleries and restaurants, the gated complex was a maze of pueblo-style architecture, patios and gardens. The wealthiest residents lived in luxury, with staff on hand for their every need.

Last week’s snow had already melted. Jordan’s path took him past the spa, the tennis courts and the club house. There were plenty of activities to be found here, but despite his urging his mother showed no interest in them. Jordan worried that she was sinking into depression. But she refused to socialize or to be seen by a doctor. Meredith Cooper had made up her mind to be miserable.

Taking the elevator to the second floor of the building, he rang her doorbell. She buzzed him in with the remote control she kept by her chair.

“Hello, Jordan.” As usual, she was impeccably coiffed and dressed, her nails freshly manicured, her upswept hair sculpted into platinum waves and her silk blouse tucked neatly into pleated designer slacks. Her balcony overlooked a small lake lined with cattails, where migrating ducks and geese sheltered on their journey south. But drawn curtains blocked the view. Too much sun was the excuse she gave.

He walked across the room and took her hand. She’d always been formal with her sons. “How have you been this week, Mother?”

“So-so.” She shrugged her thin shoulders.

“I thought we could go to lunch at
La Fonda
today,” he said. “The sun’s out, and I’ve reserved a table. Come on, I’ll get your coat.”

She cast him a withering look. “Have you forgotten that today’s the anniversary of your father’s death? How could you even think of going out to eat?”

Actually he
had
forgotten. His only thought had been to get her out of this gloomy suite, to someplace where it might be easier to talk. “I can drive you to the cemetery,” he said. “We could buy flowers on the way.”

“I don’t feel up to going out. And the cemetery would only make me feel worse.” She sighed, clasping her arthritic hands in her lap. “How are things at the ranch these days?”

It was the opening Jordan needed. Pulling up a chair he sat down. “I’ve got some surprising news,” he said. “It seems you have a grandson.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You—?”

“No. He’s not mine. The boy is Justin’s. Angie was pregnant when he died.”

Her face had gone ashen. For the space of a breath she looked vulnerable. Then her features hardened. “How convenient,” she said. “My son dies, and four years later that hussy shows up with a child who could be anybody’s. I suppose she’s asking for money.”

Jordan squelched an angry retort. His mother had endured terrible losses—first her favorite son, then her husband who’d suffered a stroke the week of Justin’s death and lingered, bedridden, for nine months before passing away. He could hardly blame her for being bitter. He willed himself to be patient.

“Angie’s not asking for a thing,” he said. “And she didn’t show up. I tracked her down.” He summarized the story of how he’d found Angie on the internet.

“Did you think to check the birth record?”

“I have a copy in the car. The date fits, and Justin is listed as the father.”

“And you’ve had DNA testing done?”

“No need. Aside from his mother’s coloring, the boy’s all Cooper. You’ll agree when you meet him.”

She pressed her hand to her forehead, as if fending off a headache. “Why should I want to meet him? Haven’t I suffered enough pain already without some illegitimate brat reminding me of my son? Write the woman a check and be done with it.”

Jordan controlled the impulse to leap to his feet and shout at her. He loved his mother, but how could anyone be so callous?

“Lucas is your grandson—an innocent little boy who’s not to blame for any of this mess. If you turn your back on him, Mother, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Her mouth quirked in a bitter smile. “I can see the child’s already won you over. What about the mother? I recall that she was pretty. Has she bewitched you the way she did your brother?”

Jordan had anticipated the question. Even so, his reaction was physical—a flash of heat like a slap to the face. “I’m trying to do right by Justin’s son,” he said. “As the boy’s mother, Angie’s part of the package.”

“Meaning...?” His mother’s eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s.

“They’re living at the ranch—at my invitation.”

Her reaction was exactly what he’d expected. It was as if he’d dropped a live grenade in her lap. But he had to give her credit for a swift recovery.

“That’s unacceptable!” she snapped.

“Is it? If Justin had lived long enough to get married, they’d be his wife and son. Whether you like it or not, they’re family.”

“Not to me. I want nothing to do with them.”

Jordan shook his head. “Look at it this way, Mother. Without them, our family consists of two people—you and me. If I don’t remarry and start siring the next generation of little Coopers—and I don’t foresee that happening—we’re dinosaurs. The Cooper line and Cooper legacy will end for good.”

“This isn’t funny, Jordan. I’d like you to leave now.”

“Fine.” Jordan rose. “Think about what I’ve told you. I’ll give you a call later in the week.”

He’d reached the door when she called his name. He turned back to face her.

“Thanksgiving’s two weeks away,” she said. “You’ll be here to have dinner with me as usual, won’t you?”

Jordan had seen this coming, too. “No,” he said. “We’re having Thanksgiving at the ranch. You’re more than welcome to come. I’ll even send a car for you. But if you choose to stay here, you’ll be eating without me.”

She stared at him, shocked into silence for once.

“Think about it. You can let me know next week.” With that, Jordan was out the door, closing it behind him.

His mother wasn’t a bad person, he reminded himself. She could be generous, even loving when she chose to. But she was protective of her personal wounds, refusing to let them heal. Lucas could be her salvation—but only if she’d let the little boy into her heart.

Jordan was doing his best to make that happen. Today he’d taken the first step. But he was facing an uphill battle. His mother might accept Lucas, who was, after all, her own flesh and blood. But Angie?

Lord, what had he gotten himself into?

* * *

He arrived home to find Angie updating the books in his office. After only a week, Jordan was beginning to wonder how he’d managed without her. His messy male sanctuary had taken on an air of calm efficiency, with everything in perfect order. Something about her presence lent warmth to the cold space. When she wasn’t there, he missed it.

She seemed to be settling in. With his help she’d bought a sturdy four-year-old sport wagon, which she used to come and go as she pleased. She’d also enrolled Lucas in preschool to give him new friends and free up her time. Jordan was learning that the best way to keep Angie happy was to give her plenty of space. For now their fragile truce appeared to be working.

But it was about to be tested.

She glanced up as he stepped into the open doorway, a hint of a smile on her face. Dressed in a lacy pink cardigan over a black shirt, she looked soft and delectable. Since the night of the party, Jordan had managed to keep his hands off the woman. But his thoughts were harder to control. He deserved a black eye for what was going through his mind right now.

She’d tucked a lock of her hair behind one ear, revealing a tiny pearl stud. He pictured himself bending across the desk, catching her silky earlobe in his mouth and nibbling till she moaned, then grazing his way down her throat to the open collar of her blouse and—

“Do you need your desk, Jordan?” she asked. “I can always come back and finish this later.”

Jordan jerked himself back to full attention. His wandering imagination was driving him crazy. If he didn’t get a rein on his thoughts, he’d be in serious trouble.

The hard reality was, he wanted this woman. He wanted her back in his arms and back in his bed. But first she’d have to want him. That was going to take some time.

Meanwhile there were other issues to be faced.

* * *

Jordan wasn’t exactly helping her concentration. Angie tried to focus on the computer, where she was entering receipts and invoices into a programmed table. Because she was getting paid by the hour, and because he hadn’t asked her to leave the office, she could only assume she should go on working. But he wasn’t making it easy.

She could feel his gaze on her. Was he undressing her with those mesmerizing gray eyes, remembering how she’d looked without her clothes? Was he remembering what his hands had touched, what his lips had tasted and how it had felt when his swollen sex had pushed inside her?

She
was. And she had to stop.

Angie forced herself to meet his eyes. “Is there something I can do for you, Jordan?” she asked.

His mouth twitched slightly, and she realized what she’d said.
Blast the man!
She tried again.

“I really want to finish these entries before the van lets Lucas off, so unless you—”

“The entries can wait.” He walked into the room, pulled a chair up to the desk and sat down. “I need a word with you,” he said.

Her pulse skittered. Then she saw the serious expression on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing I hadn’t planned on. I paid a visit to my mother today.”

A leaden sensation stirred in Angie’s stomach. She was just beginning to feel at home here, and Lucas was blossoming. But one word from Meredith Cooper could change it all. “So she knows about Lucas—and about me.”

“She was still in shock when I left. It’s going to take some time for her to come around.”

“
If
she comes around. I can just imagine how she feels about my living in her house.”

“This isn’t about how she feels. It’s about doing the right thing for Justin’s son.”

“Is that what you told her?”

“In so many words. And I made it clear that you were part of the package.”

“I see.” Angie gazed past him to the photo of the two brothers with their string of fish. Jordan had offered to take it down, but she’d told him to leave it. Lucas often wandered into the office, and he loved seeing that picture.

“I invited Mother here for Thanksgiving,” Jordan said. “I won’t have her answer until next week, but I think it’s time she met her grandson.”

“No!”
Angie reacted like a lioness with a threatened cub. “If your mother dislikes me, I can accept that. But I won’t have her venting her spite on Lucas!”

Jordan’s gaze was calm. “My mother prides herself on her good manners. Whatever she might be thinking, she won’t do anything to make a scene.”

“You can’t guarantee that. My cousin Raquel’s invited us to her house. We’ll go there, so you and your mother can have this place to yourselves.”

Jordan’s eyes were storm clouds, troubled and unsettling. “Be still and listen, Angie. There are things you need to understand—things I should probably have told you sooner.”

“Like why you brought us here in the first place?”

“That’s part of it.” He exhaled, shifting on his chair. “This property and most of the other family assets are in a trust. When my father suffered his stroke, the trusteeship passed to my mother. Justin and I were listed as heirs.”

“So all this is about money?”

“Hear me out. I owe it to my brother to do the right thing—the thing he’d want done if he’d lived. Justin’s name is still listed on the trust document. If I can get Lucas declared his legal heir, Justin’s share of the trust will go to him.”

Angie stared at him. “But as things stand, wouldn’t everything go to you, Jordan? Why would you want to change that?”

“Because I owe that much to Justin’s memory.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’ve made plenty of money on my own. It’s not as if I need to be greedy.”

“And your mother?” Angie felt as if her face had gone numb. She forced her lips to shape the question.

“Mother could make things difficult if she chose to. I could probably win in court, but I don’t want to fight her, and I don’t want to wait years for her to pass away. My best hope is that she’ll accept Lucas as her grandson and add him to the trust herself.”

“So that’s why you invited her here.”

“In part, yes.”

“And you’re hoping Lucas will win her over. That’s an awful burden to place on a little boy.”

His gaze and voice softened. “I know, Angie. But it’s not just about the money. I want her to know Lucas for his own sake—and for hers. My mother’s a good woman, but she has a broken heart. Having a grandson to love could make all the difference for her.”

Angie stared down at her hands on the desk. “She could hurt him, Jordan. Hurt my sweet little boy. How can I risk that?”

“My mother is protective, not cruel. Think of the good that could come of this—for both of them.”

“I just don’t know....” She looked up to meet his probing gaze. “How can I be a party to this? Your mother always believed I was after Justin’s money. She’ll think this whole thing was my idea—and she’ll fight it.”

His hand slid across the desk to rest on hers, the palm cool and lightly callused. The contact sent a quiver of awareness up her arm.

“It’s only Thanksgiving dinner,” he said. “There’ll be time for the rest later on, but we have to start somewhere.”

Could he feel her galloping pulse? Angie shook her head. “Your mother blames me for Justin’s death and your father’s stroke. How can I even face her?”

His fingers tightened around hers, their grip almost painful. “If she still blames you, it’s time she stopped. And it’s time you stopped blaming yourself. You didn’t crash that plane, Angie. And you didn’t do anything to my father. Nobody knows that better than I do.”

Angie stared at him, her throat jerking tight. Jordan had been the last one in the family to see his brother alive. Did he know something she didn’t?