Cheyenne Dad

“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.”

As the plane steadied and the other anxious passengers relaxed, Annie’s gaze locked with Dakota’s, and an awkward silence stretched between them. Although their fingers were still entwined, neither attempted to break the connection.

Annie watched his chest rise and fall, wondering if the contact had made his heart beat as erratically as hers. Not likely, she thought. Things like rapid heartbeats and stomach butterflies didn’t happen to men. Not men like him, anyway.

She slid her hand away and immediately folded up the tray and latched it, telling herself that her reaction had been perfectly normal. Just airplane jitters. She hadn’t been electrocuted by six foot plus of beautifully sculpted male. Tall and sinfully handsome didn’t affect her anymore. Her ex-fiancé had curbed that craving long ago.

Mary popped her headphones off and grinned. “That was fun, wasn’t it? That roller-coaster action.”

“Yeah.” Dakota clasped his hands in front of him as though ensuring they wouldn’t collide with Annie’s again. “We’re having a blast, aren’t we, darlin’?”

“Oh, sure.” Annie nodded, hoping she appeared calmer than she felt. Her heart had yet to resume its steady rhythm.

Two

Annie sat beside Mary on a gold-flecked bench in the tiny waiting room of the chapel, gazing at the decor. “This place is—”

“Gaudy,” the other woman provided with a smirk.

Annie nodded. Gaudy fit. Everything, including the textured wallpaper, had been gold-leafed. The design on the maroon-and-royal-blue carpet clashed with the green drapes, the kind, Annie mused, Scarlett O’Hara had fashioned a dress from. In her opinion, Scarlett’s imaginative dress certainly looked better than the windows here did. She gazed around again and winced, then widened her eyes when Dakota entered the room, carrying a bouquet of white roses and a yellow corsage. He slipped the corsage onto his sister’s wrist and handed Annie the roses.

“They sell flowers here,” he said by way of explanation, his shoulders rising with a slight shrug.

Pleasantly surprised by the thoughtful gesture, Annie thanked him, while Mary reacted like a dutiful sister and stood to fuss with his hair. As Mary brushed a stray lock from Dakota’s eye, Annie hugged the delicate bouquet to her chest and studied him. Not only had the groom provided flowers, he’d worn a suit, one that appeared tailor-made for his wide shoulders and slim hips. The black jacket intensified the depth of his eyes as a white Western shirt, adorned with chain-stitch embroidery and tiny glass beads, emphasized the copper glow of his skin. In lieu of a tie he wore an engraved silver bolo.

As Mary attempted to right Dakota’s hair, Annie noticed it appeared to have a mind of its own. When the tousled chunk his sister had meticulously finger combed came falling back onto his forehead, she couldn’t help but smile. Annie liked the way his hair rebelled, thinking it fit his renegade style. Even impeccably dressed, Dakota Graywolf had an untamed quality.

Eventually Mary gave up on her brother’s hair, choosing to peck his cheek with a quick kiss instead. Much to Annie’s amazement, Dakota responded favorably to his sister’s affection, returning her kiss with a hug. Apparently the rough-and-tumble cowboy hadn’t outgrown the need to be mothered.

Mary spoke quietly to her brother, then turned to Annie. She looked pretty, her black hair flowing like a river of silk and her strong features softened by an artful hint of makeup. The yellow corsage matched the flowers sprinkled on her chiffon dress, reminding Annie of prom night rather than a tacky Las Vegas wedding.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Mary said. “I need to powder my nose.”

“Okay.” As the other woman headed in the direction of the ladies’ room, Annie chose not to follow. She’d powdered her own nose quite enough. She’d labored over her appearance far longer than necessary, especially considering the circumstances surrounding this wedding.

Besides, if she wanted to peer at her carefully coifed image, all she had to do was gaze into the gilded mirror that, at the moment, reflected the back of Dakota’s head and the thick black mass brushing his collar.

Why were men always graced with the longest eyelashes and most luxuriant hair? An impressive gene pool had certainly given Dakota both. And more. Unfortunately, even his imperfections, like a crooked eyebrow interrupted by a narrow scar, managed to bewitch her.

Dakota tapped a booted foot while Annie nibbled her bottom lip and watched his patience wear thin. The wedding prior to theirs had gotten a late start.

“Shouldn’t be much longer,” she said.

He stopped tapping and looked down at her, dark eyes roving. With an impassive gaze, he examined her from the top of her loosely styled hair to the tips of her satin pumps. She knew what he eyed in between was white silk embellished by a strand of pearls. Annie had chosen a simple yet elegant dress for her unconventional wedding. The timeless style complemented her figure without flaunting the abundant curves she often struggled to conceal. In her opinion, fashionable women should appear lithe with long graceful lines, not top-heavy with hips better suited to a fifties pinup.

Dakota sat beside her, and Annie glanced down at the simple bouquet on her lap, recalling the lavish details of what had almost been her first wedding: the carefully chosen china patterns, the gilded invitations, the Victorian-style gown she’d burned just hours after she’d caught Richard in bed with Sheila Harris.

Three days before their wedding date, she’d stumbled upon her fiancé, her college sweetheart, in bed with a former lover. Richard, a gifted quarterback, had been a popular man on campus with his California tan and easy smile.

Annie had been young and naive where Richard was concerned, believing she could change him. She’d known about his wild flirtations but was certain “the right woman” would make a difference. Annie had fallen into an age-old trap—the good girl hell-bent on redeeming the handsome bad boy.

A good girl. A virgin. That was her, all right. Since she had saved herself for a traditional wedding night, she’d convinced Richard to wait until they were married to consummate their union. And after that devastating relationship had faltered, she’d spent the following years nit-picking anyone who could have been a potential partner. Till this day, she still hadn’t come across a man worth giving herself to.

Annie sighed. Richard had apologized profusely after she’d caught him cheating with his old flame, claiming it had happened in a “moment of weakness.”

Yeah, right. It seemed every man she knew had experienced a weak moment or two with Sheila Harris. Including Dakota.

“Annie, where’d you go?”

Rather than turn to the sound of Dakota’s voice, Annie continued to stare at the roses on her lap. “What?”

“You were zoning out.” He drummed his fingers against his chair. “I guess you were thinking about him, huh?”

“Him?”

“That Joe-college jock you were engaged to.”

Annie flinched, hating that Dakota had tapped into her thoughts. Why, damn it, couldn’t she just forget all the pain associated with her last wedding? The gut-wrenching ache of betrayal? “You know darn well his name was Richard. And I wasn’t thinking about him. I was just wondering what’s taking them so long to get to us.”

“Liar.”

True, she thought. She had lied. And if there was anything she despised it was lies, betrayals, half-truths. “Being here like this reminds me of what happened,” she said, struggling to steady her voice.

When Annie glanced up, Dakota trapped her gaze. Like polished onyx, his eyes reflected the light spilling from the chandelier. A man had no right being that striking, she thought, that physically appealing. Especially a man like Dakota.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Annie looked away. Was he apologizing for his involvement with Richard’s old girlfriend? For that awful night both he and Richard had made her cry?

Dakota and Richard had met for the first time at Jill’s twenty-first birthday party. And as Annie recalled, they’d despised each other on sight. From the moment she had introduced them, tension filled the air. Anyone within breathing distance could feel their testosterone levels rising. And to make matters worse, they had nearly come to blows over Sheila Harris—the sultry coed who had crashed the party just so she could keep an eye on Richard. The very woman who had ultimately worked her way back into his bed. After she’d tumbled into one with Dakota.

Annie and Richard had quarreled that evening. She had been angry that her boyfriend cared about who his ex-lover had attached herself to, and Richard had insisted that Dakota had hit on Sheila just to taunt him. Sheila, on the other hand, had behaved accordingly. She’d clung to Dakota like a curvaceous vine, flaunting her handsome catch.

Annie had cried herself to sleep that night, believing both Richard and Dakota should have respected her enough to avoid a public scene over Sheila Harris. Of course, like a naive little fool, she’d forgiven Richard just days later, when he’d presented her with a diamond ring and a proposal of forever.

Annie glanced at Dakota. How could this be happening? How could she be minutes away from marrying a man just like Richard?

She took a deep breath and told herself to relax. She wasn’t in love with Dakota, nor had she promised to keep herself pure for him. The wedding night of her dreams wasn’t going to happen with Dakota Graywolf. This was only a marriage of convenience—a business arrangement.

She gazed around the gaudy room, then closed her eyes. And it couldn’t possibly last.

The small wedding party gathered at the back of the chapel as The Reverend Matthews, a white-haired man cloaked in a jeweled robe, took them through a brief narration of the ceremony. Although Dakota’s concentration wavered, he caught what he considered the gist of it. Bea, the minister’s equally tinseled wife, would provide the music, while Dakota stood at the flamboyant altar and waited for Annie to walk down the lavishly carpeted aisle. Mary would be there, as well, serving as witness and bridal attendant.

When the minister lifted his satin-draped arm and explained at what point the rings would be exchanged, Annie piped up. “We don’t have any.”

“I do.” Dakota reached into his pocket and produced a white-gold band set with a marquee-cut diamond and an intricate inlay of semi-precious stones.

Annie studied the ring glinting against his hand. “Is it one of yours?”

He nodded. He’d designed it for her for this day, but he couldn’t tell her that. He doubted she’d be pleased about the secret he and Harold had been keeping. But then Dakota wasn’t about to reveal the role she’d played in his recovery. He would rather die than suffer the mortification of her knowing the truth. Overcoming his paralysis and the impotency that had accompanied it wasn’t something he could discuss with Annie. The loss of his virility, no matter how temporary, had made him feel like less of a man.

Annie leaned in close, drawing his attention back to the ring. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, “but you didn’t have to give me something so extravagant. I didn’t expect a ring at all.”

Her floral scent drifted to his nostrils, reminding him of how long he’d been waiting to bury his face in the fragrance of her hair.

Dakota shrugged and made a fist, pressing the diamond into his palm. “It’s no big deal.”

It was, of course. It hurt that she didn’t want to make love with him. And now he couldn’t help but wish that he’d kept his mouth shut about her other wedding. Richard had cheated on Annie with the same woman that Dakota had been with only months before. Mary had told him how upset Annie had been over that ordeal, how she’d felt as though Dakota had betrayed their friendship by “getting involved with Richard’s old girlfriend.”

Dakota shook his head. His “involvement” had been one stupid night that he’d regretted every day since.

Sheila had been a brazen one. Wearing a skimpy red dress designed to make a man drool, she’d sashayed up to him at that party and tossed her head, spilling golden waves around her shoulders. His immediate thought had been that she’d looked like a harder version of Annie. Blond and luscious, only lacking the inborn grace. But that hadn’t mattered at the time, especially since Annie had been milling around the party with her Joe-college boyfriend.

Sheila made her first move by pressing her hand to Dakota’s forehead. “You’re hot for Richard’s little girlfriend, aren’t you? Burning right up with a fever.”

Dakota’s knees nearly buckled. No one had ever challenged him about his sexual attraction to Annie, the all-consuming ache he couldn’t seem to shake. “Yeah, right. I’ve known her since she was a kid.”

“Well, she’s hardly a kid now,” the blonde purred. “And you get excited just watching her breathe.”

Dakota jerked away. “What the hell do you want?”

Sheila’s painted lips curled into a naughty smile. “To make you forget all about her.”

He should have walked away then. Game playing wasn’t his style, but he wanted nothing more than to get Annie out of his system. Destroy the heat that surged through his blood every time he laid eyes on her.

The night had gone from bad to worse with Richard getting in his face, hissing words that were much too true. “What’s the matter?” the jock had snarled in a quiet, menacing voice, “Are you stuck with my leftovers because you can’t get the real thing?”

Blinded by rage, Dakota had lunged at the other man, knocking him against a wall. Richard had the woman he wanted, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it. Nothing but take Sheila up on her offer. An offer that had made him sick and remorseful the following morning.

Swapping Sheila for Annie hadn’t worked. And in the process he’d humiliated Annie and disgusted Mary and Jill, the women he cared most about.

“Looks to me like you folks are ready.” The minister’s voice boomed in Dakota’s ear, jarring him from his disturbing thoughts.

Ready. Right. To marry a woman who had no intention of making love with him, of forgiving him for his sins. Annie had to suspect how many Sheila Harrises had slithered in and out of his bed. But that was his past, Dakota thought, the type of man he was before the accident.

“Sure,” he said, faking a smile. “We’re ready.”

They took their places quietly, and when Bea began to plunk out a wedding march, brother and sister both turned to view the bride. As her hourglass figure swayed, Dakota’s blood tingled. Annie Winters looked like a goddess: white-blond hair, a flowing white dress and a bouquet of white roses. As unique and pure, he decided, as a freshly fallen snowflake.

She stood beside him and stared straight ahead as the organ music ended and The Reverend Matthews began to speak. Dakota focused on Annie, on the way the sunlight streamed through the windows, highlighting her hair and illuminating her skin with a warm glow. The moment she repeated her vows and her gaze met his, his chest constricted. Her voice was soft and barely audible, but the words sounded sincere, as though they should have been spoken for another man, one she wanted to marry.

Dakota said his vows in the same near whisper, then removed the white-gold band from his pocket. The ring slid easily onto her finger.

“I pronounce you husband and wife,” The Reverend Matthews said in a clear, strong voice, then smiled at Dakota. “Mr. Graywolf, you may kiss your bride.”

Dakota turned toward Annie, and their eyes met. She looked sweet, he thought. Warm and girlish, yet womanly. He leaned in close and swallowed. “I’m supposed to do this,” he whispered, praying she wouldn’t flinch at his touch.

He skimmed his fingers down her back. Her whisky eyes grew doelike, but she didn’t pull away, so he caressed her skin through the silk.