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
