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Dakota had agreed to be Jill’s blood brother when they were kids, vowing to honor and protect her—a Cheyenne vow that later included her children, as well. So with that in mind, he hadn’t been surprised when Harold had approached him about adopting Jill’s orphaned boys. The shock had come when Harold had proclaimed, “It’s your duty to marry Annie and give the children a proper home.”
“Mar-r-y Annie?” Dakota had stuttered.
“You want to bed her,” Harold had responded in that stoic manner of his.
Dakota had raised an eyebrow at that, an emotional ache poisoning his gut like a snakebite. It was true, he’d been lusting after Annie for over a decade, fantasizing like a randy schoolboy over the pert little blonde. But he couldn’t bed anyone. His legs didn’t work, and neither did the body part he’d always taken for granted. His crippling injury had left him impotent.
“I’ll adopt the kids, but I won’t marry Annie.”
“It’s your place to do so,” Harold insisted, invoking his status as Dakota’s elder. “Annie needs a husband as much as the boys need a father. I won’t allow her to raise those children by herself. If you refuse to marry her, I’ll find someone who will.”
Dakota stared at his lap, cursing the legs that wouldn’t move. How could Harold expect him to become Annie’s husband?
Because, he told himself several days later, he was supposed to be a warrior. A fighter. A man who had no right to turn his back on a woman and three children, no matter how much the idea of marriage scared him.
Dakota’s life had been spared in that accident, so maybe now Maheo, the Creator, was asking him to give something back. Duty and honor were a part of his heritage he had neglected for far too long.
“If it’s my place, I’ll marry her,” he announced, “but not until I can walk again.” And make love, he added mentally, deciding then and there that he’d be the best damn lover Annie Winters had ever had. All he needed was time. Determination. And plenty of prayer.
So Harold had agreed to keep the arranged nuptials a secret from Annie until Dakota regained the use of his legs. Only Dakota had taken it a step further. “She has to do the asking,” he’d told the older man. “Marrying me has to be her idea.”
Dakota studied Annie’s anxious expression. No, he couldn’t tell her the truth. She didn’t need to know that he had battled his injury so he could play ball with the kids, race through a meadow on horseback, ease himself into her arms on their wedding night.
He swiped his drink and took a huge swallow. He would never reveal that he had been preparing himself to become a husband and father—a family man.
Yeah, right. He scowled and placed the soda back on the table. Dakota Graywolf was, and probably always would be, a troubled cowboy. A rodeo champion who’d been trampled by the orneriest, most infamous bull in existence—a wreck that had inflicted more than just a physical challenge. Dakota had been plagued with anxiety ever since the accident, reliving the fall, over and over in his mind. The only cure, he knew, was getting back on that bull. And he would someday, but for now he had another priority.
“So you’re looking for a husband, huh?” he asked, faking nonchalance.
“Because of the children,” she reiterated.
“When would I have to do this?”
She gripped her soda can a little tighter. “As soon as possible. Are you saying yes?”
He wondered if he should hedge, drag out his answer. If he seemed too eager, she might figure out that he’d been forewarned. “I don’t know, I mean…” He watched her eyes cloud with fear and felt a lump of guilt form in his throat.
“Sure, I’ll do it. You know, for the kids. I am their uncle, and you’re right, in my culture that pretty much makes me their father already. And marrying you won’t be that bad,” he added for effect. “Hell, we’ve known each other for over half of our lives.”
She reached for his hand, touched it lightly. “Thank you. I’m sure Harold will approve. I’ve been so worried about losing the boys, but now…”
Although Annie’s voice quavered, her smile radiated genuine warmth, sending heat flaring through Dakota’s veins. He gazed at her lips, the rosy color and soft texture. She was beautiful. Dangerously beautiful. A feisty kid who had blossomed into an incredible woman.
“We need to make arrangements,” she said.
He studied the length of her hair, the pale color. With her white-blond hair and amber eyes, she reminded him of a lioness, a naturally sexy creature. And she owned a lingerie store, which had him constantly wondering what sort of lacy little under-things she wore. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“We need to set a wedding date, so I can tell Harold. I want to make sure he gets the adoption proceedings started.”
A lioness protecting her cubs, Dakota decided. “Yeah, okay. How about Las Vegas? Weddings are quick and easy there. I know Vegas pretty well.” The National Finals Rodeo was held in Las Vegas every year. He knew that town better than well.
“That’s fine. We should get this done as simply as possible. And I should probably get a sitter for the kids, too. Traveling would only wear them out.” She brushed a lock of hair from her eye. “Besides, it’s not as if this is going to be a real marriage. There’s no reason to make a fuss over the ceremony.”
He cocked his head. “Weddings in Vegas are real, Annie. They’re legal.”
She reached for her drink. “I know. But ours will be just a business deal. No love. No sex. That’s hardly a real marriage.”
Dakota’s heart nearly stopped.
No sex?
“You can’t be serious.”
The stern look she shot him said otherwise. She was serious, all right. She had no intention of sleeping with him.
Dakota righted his posture as a hot fist of anger clenched his gut. Anger to mask the pain, he thought. The disappointment. The horrible rejection.
Did she have any idea how long he had struggled to regain the use of his body? Two years. Twenty-four months of promising himself Annie Winters would be his reward at the end of long, grueling road. She was supposed to become his lover, the woman he would stroke and caress, hold on to at night.
“Fine, Annie. Whatever.” He wasn’t about to beg for his conjugal rights. He’d suffered enough humiliation.
She breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief, and he cursed what he was about to become—a man with a gorgeous wife and a nonexistent love life.
As Annie watched Dakota walk across the airport terminal, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered. He moved like a cowboy—long, lean and just a little bit mean. With a duffel bag slung over his arm, a Stetson dipped over his eyes and Wranglers hugging him like a well-worn glove, he drew plenty of attention. Somehow the slight limp rather added to his don’t-mess-with-me charm.
“There he is.” Mary Graywolf leaned forward. “Hmm. He doesn’t look too happy, does he?”
Annie tilted her head. He looked about as ornery as the bulls he used to ride. She had the feeling Dakota wasn’t particularly pleased about the no-sex clause in their marriage, but she knew their union would end once the adoption was finalized. Although grateful for his loyalty to the children, she wasn’t about to allow Dakota Graywolf to have some fun with her, then toss her aside.
“You know how moody your big brother can be.”
“No kidding. Just look at that macho attitude.”
Mary rolled her eyes, and Annie nibbled on a smile. She adored Mary. Her dear friend, Annie had decided long ago, was the only good that had come out of her father’s short-lived career.
Annie’s dad and Mary’s dad had been rodeo buddies, often traveling the same circuit, a teenage Dakota in tow. So consequently, after Annie’s dad had died, she’d spent youthful summers in Montana with the Graywolf family. The Graywolfs, it seemed, had influenced her life for nearly two decades now. It was through them that she had also met Jill.
Annie turned her attention back to Dakota. He strode toward them, dropped his bag onto the chair beside Mary, then glared down at his sister. She stood and glared back at him. The siblings looked like gunslingers preparing to draw.
He fired first. “What are you, the chaperone?”
She flipped the brim of his hat. “That’s right. I’m here to make sure you behave yourself.”
“Great.” He slipped the hat back down. “Just what I need. My bossy sister along on what’s supposed to be my honeymoon.”
Ignoring both women, Dakota slumped onto a chair and crossed his arms over his chest, long legs stretched out before him.
Mary sat down as well. “They’ll probably let us board soon.”
“Wonderful.” Dakota didn’t try to mask the sarcasm in his tone.
Annie leaned over. “Hello, Kody,” she said, using the nickname the boys had given him. She wasn’t about to let his sour attitude intimidate her. They certainly couldn’t snarl at each other in front of the children, so they may as well learn to be polite now. “It’s nice to see you.”
He reached into his front pocket for a cigarette. The Western shirt boasted whipcord trim and a pearl-snap placket. “Yeah, squirt. Likewise.”
Annie studied his brooding posture. How tall was the man who still insisted on calling her squirt? Well over six feet. Of course, the black hat and scuffed leather boots intensified his threatening demeanor. Even seated, he looked rough and rangy.
“It’s a nonsmoking flight,” Mary said when Dakota lit up.
He scowled. “Do we look like we’re on the plane yet?”
Annie noticed he inhaled as though savoring each drag, a reminder that she would have to enforce the No Smoking rule at home. She insisted on a healthy environment for the kids. Dakota would just have to smoke outside.
He stamped out his cigarette when their flight number was called. As he stood, a huddle of attractive young women craned their necks. For some odd reason Annie wanted to scratch their eyes out. Sex or no sex, he’d still be her husband.
Temporary husband, she amended, calming herself. Six months, tops. Annie chewed her bottom lip, then glanced at Dakota. It wasn’t as though she was purposely deceiving Harold. The children would always have Dakota as a father. But common sense told her the adoption would outlive the marriage. Free-spirited men, much like leopards, didn’t change their spots. Dakota Graywolf would be pining for his freedom in no time.
They shuffled into a line and waited for the passengers who either required assistance or were traveling with small children to board first.
After a frazzled woman boarded with her active toddler, Dakota turned to Annie. “You know, I was thinking that there’s no need for you to take the kids to a baby-sitter this summer. I can watch them.”
Disbelief widened her eyes. “But what about your work? Don’t you have orders to fill?” Since Dakota had retired from the rodeo, he’d turned his silversmith hobby into a business. She knew he planned to set up a workshop in her garage.
He adjusted the duffel bag. “Sure, but how much trouble can three little rug rats be?”
Annie caught Mary’s raised eyebrow and they both erupted into one of their giggling fits. The “rug rats,” ages two, five and eight, each had their own special personality. Besides being adorable—possessive, serious and rambunctious described them to a T.
“What’s so funny?” he asked between clenched teeth.
“You.” Mary bumped his shoulder with a sisterly shove. A psychology major with a minor in theater arts, Mary analyzed everyone and offered advice without being asked. “You have no idea what supervising small children is like. You haven’t seen the boys in two years. Maybe you should consider easing into fatherhood.”
“I call the kids all the time,” Dakota argued. “Every week.”
Mary continued to chuckle. “That doesn’t mean they’re going to behave while you work.”
He dismissed her opinion with the wave of his hand. “Yeah? Just wait and see.” He cocked his head toward Annie. “You, too, squirt.”
Annie ceased her laughter. How many times a day must that annoying nickname surface?
They boarded the plane and sat three across. Dakota ended up in the middle because Mary wanted to look out the window and Annie preferred the aisle.
When they were airborne, a female flight attendant came down the aisle offering a drink and two bags of peanuts. Annie and Mary both ordered a soft drink.
Dakota readjusted his long limbs for the third time. “Give me one of those little bottles of—” he glanced over at Annie and their eyes met “—whisky.”
Uncomfortable, Annie looked away. He used to say a man could get drunk on her whisky-colored eyes. Was he trying to make that flirtatious point now, or did he usually drink his breakfast?
After the attendant moved on, Dakota turned to his sister. “Don’t you dare say a word.”
“Sure.” She popped a peanut into her mouth. “Everybody knows 10:00 a.m. is the perfect cocktail hour.”
When the whisky arrived, he apologized for the inconvenience and asked if he could have a glass of water instead. “I changed my mind,” he said, staring into Annie’s eyes once again.
As his dark gaze moved down her body, she crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, glad the fold-out tray concealed most of her. She had chosen to travel in an almond-colored cotton pant-suit accented with a suede belt and sling-back heels. Annie had a professional yet stylish wardrobe; she had graduated from college with a degree in fashion design.
As Dakota’s gaze seared his approval, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She almost felt as though he were mentally undressing her. Almost. He glanced away before she could be sure. Maybe he got as far as popping open a few buttons, she decided, actually checking the front of her blouse to be sure they were in place.
As her hand crept to her second button, his lips twitched. The fleeting smile had a sensuality attached that made her cheeks feel flushed.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Annie stopped fidgeting with her buttons. “Nothing.”
The twitching smile returned. “Guess what, squirt? I booked us the honeymoon suite.”
Annie glanced over at Mary, hoping she might intervene, but the other woman wore headphones and was tapping in time to the music selection she had chosen.
“Dakota.”
Amusement danced in his black eyes. “What?”
Suddenly she wished he’d go back to his brooding self. “I’m sharing a room with Mary.”
“Yeah, I know. I was just kidding around.” He tore open one of the little peanut bags. “But haven’t you ever wondered about honeymoon suites? Like do they have mirrors above the beds or heart-shaped hot tubs or what?”
Actually she had but wouldn’t dare admit it. “It never crossed my mind.” Images of being with Dakota Graywolf in a honeymoon suite could prove dangerous.
He shifted his legs for what had to be the fourth or fifth time. Definitely too tall for coach, she decided. “Six-one,” she said, thinking out loud.
He answered what he must have thought was a question. “Two. Three in boots. And I hate these coach flights.”
Annie couldn’t resist a smirk. “This suits me just fine. I’m still a squirt.” Teasing about the childhood nickname seemed easier than complaining about it. Besides, maybe it was safer having him regard her as “squirt” rather than a woman.
He finished off the peanuts and stuffed the bag into his empty water cup. “Yeah, you’re still little, but you grew up beautiful. Just like I knew you would.”
Annie turned toward the aisle as the flight attendant neared, grateful for the interruption. Dakota’s hushed tone and gentle words had sounded like a bedroom whisper. Intimate and husky.
The attendant took their empty cups and moved on just as the plane hit a pocket of turbulence.
Several passengers murmured, and more than one pair of eyes popped open as the plane bumped and jarred. Annie, an inexperienced flyer, gripped her armrest for support, unintentionally catching Dakota’s hand.
His fingers curled around hers. “You okay?”
“I don’t like being away from the kids.” She let him hold her hand because the gesture made her feel safe. He had protective hands, large and slightly callused. “If something happened to us…”
He rubbed his fingertips over her knuckles. “Nothing’s going to happen. It’s just a little turbulence.”
“I know. It’s the first time I’ve spent a night away.”
