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
