In His Brother's Place by Elizabeth Lane Page A

had to do right by her and Lucas—and by his mother, too. He could never make up for the terrible loss they’d suffered. But trying could be his only hope of redemption.
    * * *
    In her room, Angie stripped off her sweater and jeans. She was weary to the bone but her pulse was still racing.
    Had it been a mistake, calling Jordan back to thank him? They’d snarled at each other most of the way home. And he’d been none too friendly when she’d faced him in the hallway. But even as he scowled at her, something had been there—and she’d responded like a hormone-crazed teenager. It was as if every part of her body remembered last night in his bed and was craving more of the same.
    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