Tycoon Warrior

Kathy wasn’t ready to talk about personal matters, wasn’t sure if it would even matter. Retired or not, Lieutenant Dakota Lewis was, and always would be, the ultimate soldier—a man drawn to the heat of battle. A wife longing for babies and domestic bliss had no place in his life.

Dakota reached for his wine, and Kathy toyed with her salad. But before the silence threatened to swallow them, he spoke. “Tell me about your relationship with the royal family.”

“I consider Queen Nicole a friend,” she answered, relaxing a little. “She is part American and enjoys having another American woman to talk to. Although she was born in Asterland, she was educated in the States and has a fondness for our culture.”

“When were you assigned to the consulate in Asterland? You’ve been in Washington for the last three years.”

So he knew where she had been. Well, of course he did. She couldn’t very well hide from a man like Dakota, nor had she intended to. She had wanted him to come to her, wanted him to profess that she was more important than his work, that he would retire for good.

“I wasn’t assigned to Asterland. I was brought in to handle a situation that involved Prince Eric.” Queen Nicole’s young son, a dark-haired little boy who had stolen Kathy’s heart. “Prince Eric had gotten into trouble at a prestigious New England boarding school. He was on the verge of being suspended because his classroom behavior was too disruptive. And since the school officials weren’t being particularly cooperative, Queen Nicole requested that an American consular assess the situation and report to her.”

Dakota cut into his meat. “Your report must have impressed the queen.”

“Prince Eric turned out to be a delightful child, which led me to believe his classroom behavior needed further investigation.” Kathy adjusted the linen napkin on her lap. “With the queen’s approval, I brought in an educational psychologist. And the psychologist diagnosed Prince Eric with attention deficit disorder. Personally, I feel the boy had been treated unfairly. A learning disability isn’t something that warrants a suspension.”

Dakota smiled. “You’ve always been tuned in to kids. You could have been a teacher.”

Or a mother, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Prince Eric had come into her life soon after the miscarriage, and bonding with the young boy had helped ease the pain of losing her own child. “The queen transferred him to a boarding school that specializes in learning disabilities. He’s doing well now. A determined fifth-grader.”

“It’s hard to believe Prince Ivan came from the same family.”

“I know.” Kathy pictured Prince Ivan. He was Eric’s older brother, a grown man who abused his power and shamed his family. He had also been a menace to the town of Royal, a threat to the Cattleman’s Club. But in the end, a cowardly act had consumed him. Rather than return to Asterland to face his family, the prince had committed suicide. “Ivan is dead now.”

Dakota placed his fork on the table. “But he’s still creating trouble. Or his past deeds are. He’s the one who convinced the king to appoint Payune to the position of Grand Minister. Payune and Ivan were thick as thieves.”

And at one time, the king, clearly blinded by parental love, had intended to abdicate the throne to Ivan. “Prince Eric is nothing like his brother. He will make a fine king someday.”

“That’s good to know. But if we don’t stop Payune, young Eric will never get that chance.” Dakota trapped her gaze, his dark eyes riveting. “I hope to God Payune buys my cover. And yours, too. I’m going to have to convince him that you’re a double agent.”

Kathy tried to look away, but couldn’t. Dakota held her there, caught in his magnetic gaze. She wasn’t able to respond; her mouth had gone dry. She reached for her wine, took a small sip.

His husky voice sounded gentle, low. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I hate doing this to you, but I don’t know how else to reach Payune.”

Sweetheart. Kathy felt a pool of warmth settle deep in her belly. Dakota had used that endearment the first time they’d made love.

Show me what you like, sweetheart. Put my hands—

Oh yes, those hands. Those strong, callused hands—fingertips stroking her breasts, sliding lower, slipping between her thighs. He used to watch her climax, smile and watch, masculine pleasure alight in his dark eyes. Afterward they would kiss, and he would enter her, push himself deep inside, make it happen all over again. Every explosive, glorious sensation.

“Kathy?”

She started. “Yes?”

“Are you all right? Did that upset you?”

Yes, she wanted to say. It unnerves me that I can’t stop thinking about us. That I can recall your touch, your smile, the feel of your mouth covering mine, the weight of your body, the rock of your hips. “No. I came into this mission knowing we would have to fool Payune. I’m prepared to play my part.”

“You’re absolutely sure? You don’t have any second thoughts?”

“I’m ready for this assignment,” she said, struggling to maintain her composure. “Aaron briefed me on all of the details.” Dakota would present himself as a Texas billionaire willing to fund Payune’s revolution for personal gain. And she would be painted as Dakota’s shrewd wife—a woman who used a government job to her best advantage.

“Don’t worry about me,” she added. She wouldn’t allow her thoughts to stray, wouldn’t allow those disturbing images to cloud her mind. Because recalling Dakota’s touch was possibly more dangerous than the mission.

Two

Kathy wore her hair up again, Dakota noticed, but the dry Texas wind had disturbed it, loosening several long, bright strands. She wore casual clothes—jeans and a short-sleeved cotton blouse, her shoulder nearly brushing his.

A bronze statue of Tex Langley, the founder of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, stood like a monument behind them.

They sat on a park bench, but they weren’t lounging on a leisure day. This was business, another meeting place where they wouldn’t be overheard.

Sheikh Ben Rassad and his wife, Jamie, sat on the other side of the bench, a newly married couple looking far too much in love. Dakota resisted the urge to move closer to Kathy, to allow their bodies to touch. Although last night’s dinner hadn’t been a failure, it wasn’t a complete success, either. They weren’t exactly used to each other yet.

Dakota dug a booted heel into the grass. Maybe he should just kiss her and get it over with. Pull her onto his lap. Tug her hair loose. Slam his tongue into her mouth and devour the woman he had married.

After all, she was still technically his wife.

He glanced up at Ben Rassad. Yeah, right. Kiss Kathy now, here at the park, in front of his happily married friend. What the hell was he trying to prove? That he was an egotistical, envious idiot?

Dakota lifted a bottle of water and brought it to his lips, wetting his mouth and cooling his thoughts. Strange how things had worked out for Ben. The sheikh had been assigned to watch over Jamie when she needed protection, then ended up falling for her in the process. The feisty young woman had originally been a mail-order bride for Albert Payune, a union arranged by Jamie’s father and Payune himself.

Luckily, Payune had backed out of the deal and never pursued Jamie any further. Which, in turn, had prompted this meeting—second-guessing Payune’s actions—the man Dakota intended to take down.

“So, do either one of you have any idea why Payune had advertised for an American wife?” he asked, dividing his gaze between the other couple.

Jamie shook her head. “No, but we’ve talked about it. Tossed ideas back and forth.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“Vanity, perhaps,” Ben said. “Payune may have desired a young wife to boost his ego. Texas women are renowned for their beauty.” He reached for Jamie’s hand and held it lightly. “But there is also the possibility of revenge. Payune might blame the town of Royal for Ivan’s suicide, and he planned to take one of our women as payment.”

Dakota mulled over Ben’s words, deciding anything was possible where Payune was concerned.

“I tend to think Sheikh Rassad was right the first time,” Kathy said. “That Payune’s ego was involved.”

“Really?” When Dakota turned toward her, his hand brushed hers—an accidental touch that sent an electrical charge straight to his heart. He forced himself to concentrate on the discussion, but failed miserably. He noticed Kathy’s hand was bare. She wore no rings. The wedding band he’d placed on her finger was gone.

Dakota looked over at Ben and Jamie. Both sat patiently as though waiting for Kathy to expound on her theory. Apparently he was the only one losing his train of thought. Damn it. He knew better than to allow his heart to get tangled up in this mission. Kathy had left him, and that was that.

Tightening his jaw, he turned toward her again. “So you think Payune wanted an American wife to make himself look good?”

She nodded. “It would enhance his public image in Asterland. Queen Nicole is well received in her country. And since she is part American, Payune may have been trying to find a wife he considered comparable to her.” She shifted her gaze to Ben. “A beautiful Texan, just as Sheikh Rassad pointed out.”

Dakota frowned. “If that’s the case, then why did Payune let Jamie go? My contact in Asterland says he’s no longer pursuing a wife, American or otherwise.”

Kathy smoothed the wind-blown strands of her hair. “I don’t know. But I’ve always had the feeling that Payune is enamored of Queen Nicole. Of course she’s madly in love with her husband. She isn’t the kind of woman to have an affair, and I’m sure Payune knows that.”

“But he wants her.” And in Dakota’s opinion that made Albert Payune even more dangerous. Could there be an assassination plot brewing? If the king were killed during the revolution, Queen Nicole would be left a widow, free to accept Payune’s affection. And if Payune controlled the queen and Prince Eric, then, in a sense, he would control Asterland, too.

Dakota figured Payune had three options: overthrow the Asterland government through a revolution, dispose of the entire royal family or kill the king and marry Queen Nicole.

But how could Payune possibly think the queen would turn to him? If she loved her husband, she wouldn’t embrace the man who had assassinated him.

Or would she? Was Kathy wrong about Queen Nicole? Maybe the queen wasn’t as madly in love as she claimed to be.

Wives, it seemed, changed their minds about such matters. Dakota knew firsthand that love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

They were both experienced flyers—more than experienced. Kathy had lived abroad most of her life, and Dakota was a pilot, a man who belonged to the sky. But not today. Although they rode on a private, luxurious jet owned by a prominent member of the Cattleman’s Club, they were anything but relaxed.

The pilot, thank God, was another retired air force officer, someone Dakota trusted implicitly. Flying to Asterland with Kathy was difficult enough, and the last thing Dakota needed to concern himself with was the competency of their pilot.

Kathy sat across from him in a cushioned chair. The jet offered an upscale, home-like setting, a penthouse apartment in the sky. Kathy fit right in. Dakota supposed he did, too—on the outside at least. He’d been born into money, even if he was the bastard son of a hard-nosed land baron, a man who’d left him a sizable inheritance. Dakota didn’t fashion himself after his father, but he’d done his damnedest to earn the older man’s respect.

Kathy paged through a magazine. It wasn’t difficult to assess that she wasn’t absorbed in its contents. Her mind was elsewhere. And rightly so, Dakota supposed. This mission had sucked both of them in, drawing them into an imminent vacuum.

Placing the magazine on a table, she looked up and asked, “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

Good God. She had second thoughts? Now? They were halfway to Asterland. “What do you mean?”

“Not involving the king and queen. I don’t like deceiving them.”

“We’re not deceiving them. We’re keeping this mission under wraps to protect them. The less people involved, the safer we’ll all be.”

Kathy frowned. “But it’s their country.”

And she was thinking with her heart instead of her head, Dakota thought. Her friendship with the queen was blinding her judgment. “Kathy, we don’t know how many cabinet members are actually part of the revolution plot. If the king or queen put their trust in the wrong person, it would blow our operation sky-high. We can’t take that chance.”

And Dakota had some concerns about Queen Nicole and Albert Payune. “Besides, how well do you really know the queen? She could have stumbled into an affair with Payune. That might be the reason he quit looking for a wife.”

Kathy narrowed her eyes. “Queen Nicole hasn’t stumbled into affair, Dakota. I already told you she wouldn’t do something like that. She loves her husband.”

And I thought you loved me, he wanted to say. “So women don’t cheat on their husbands? They don’t get themselves tangled up with other men?”

“Some do, I suppose. But not most. That’s a man’s game.”

She picked up the magazine again, and Dakota kicked his legs out in front of him. A man’s game. Right. He hadn’t even looked at another women since she’d been gone. He studied Kathy’s professional attire, her slim, fashionable figure. When she flipped a page, he caught sight of a gold band glinting on her finger. She wore her wedding ring, the diamond and emerald design he’d had custom made for her.

Don’t take that as encouragement, he told himself. She’d put it back on for show, for the sake of their cover. “So have you been with anyone?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Did you leave me so you could sleep with another man?”

Kathy’s complexion paled. “I can’t believe you’re asking me something like that.”

He felt his muscles tense. Technically, they were still married. Neither had filed for a legal separation, much less a divorce. He had a right to know. “Well?”

“Of course not.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze, her eyes locking onto his. “What about you? Have you been with someone?”

“No.” He shook his head and made light of his loneliness, the years he’d waited for her to return. “The way I figure it, we’ve still got that piece of paper between us.” As well as the vows they had taken.

For better or worse. Until death do us part. He had meant every word.

She let out an audible breath, her eloquent vocal skills suddenly failing her. “I suppose it was best that we…discussed this issue. I…we…don’t need any personal distractions on this mission.”

Yeah, and wondering if your spouse had a new lover would certainly fall under the category of a personal distraction. “I agree. Now that it’s out in the open, I won’t mention it again.”

“Good.”

Her smile was tight, but the fear in her eyes had faded. Fear that he had been with another woman. The thought made him a little smug, as well as confused. If things like that still mattered, why hadn’t she come home before now?

Dakota dragged a hand through his hair. She isn’t home, Lieutenant Lewis. This is an assignment, a fake reconciliation. Get your facts straight.

They remained silent for the next twenty minutes, she, occupying herself with another magazine, he, staring out the window at the night sky. He would have rather been piloting the plane than sitting idle, thinking about how much he missed a closeness with his wife. Sure, they had spent some time away from each other, but due to the nature of his work, those separations couldn’t be helped. And their reunions used to be nice. Damn nice. Nothing like this one.

“Dakota?”

He turned away from the window. “Yes?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me the Lone Star jewels really existed?”

While he’d been thinking about her, she’d been thinking about the recovered jewels. Well, at least one of them had her mind on the mission. “Only those associated with the Texas Cattleman’s Club were supposed to know they existed.”

“Because of the legend?”

“Yes.”

“So the story about that soldier is true?”

Dakota nodded. A Texas soldier had found the jewels during the War with Mexico and had brought them to Royal after the war, intending to sell them and make his fortune.

“When he came home, oil was found on his land. So he believed just owning the stones was lucky, and that they should remain in Royal.”

“And now the Cattleman’s Club protects them, and everyone else thinks their existence is just a legend. A story passed down from generation to generation.”

“Yes, but Payune came across the truth somehow.”

Kathy leaned forward, clearly engrossed in their conversation. But then she loved jewels, and the Lone Star gems were a rare, stunning collection. Too bad she would never see them, he thought. He would enjoy watching her eyes glow—those gorgeous green eyes.

“Any idea how Payune found out about them?” she asked.

“It’s possible Prince Ivan had something to do with it. When he was in Royal, he asked a lot of questions. It would stand to reason that he heard about the legend. He probably told Payune about it.”

“And Payune discovered the legend was true, from his comrade, Robert Klimt—the man who had stolen the jewels.” Kathy reclined in her chair. “I’m so glad they were recovered. They haven’t been safeguarded all these years to end up in the wrong hands.”

“Funding a revolution no less.” Dakota rose and headed toward a small wet bar. “Do you want a cold drink?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Then how about a cup of hot tea?” He knew she added one teaspoon of sugar and a splash of cream to her tea. He wondered if she remembered little details about him or if she had chosen to forget. It wouldn’t be hard to recall that he drank his coffee black or that he considered hot sauce a breakfast staple.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

He poured himself a tall glass of soda water and returned to his seat.

Kathy placed the magazine on her lap. “Are you concerned about the queen’s ball? I know how much you dislike social functions.”

Dakota cocked an eyebrow at her. He didn’t dislike all social functions, just the ones that required a tuxedo and served champagne instead of beer.

“No, I’m not concerned about it. I’ve been to plenty of fancy affairs.” And they made him uncomfortable as hell, even the familiar Texas Cattleman’s Club events. Dakota had spent more years in war paint and combat gear than he had in uniform. This ball, he figured, would be the worst part of the mission. Next to Kathy, he would probably look like a big, snorting Brahma. James Bond he wasn’t. Not all undercover agents were that damned debonair.

“So you don’t want me to brief you on royal protocol?” she asked.

Dakota scowled. “No, Miss friend-of-the-queen, I don’t. I know how to behave around royalty. As you might recall, I spent twenty years of my life serving in the United States Air Force. I’ve picked up a few manners along the way.”

She nibbled her bottom lip, then broke into an amused smile. “Miss friend-of-the-queen?”

He couldn’t help but return her smile. Kathy knew him better than anyone. She knew darn well how he felt about attending the queen’s birthday ball. “If the glass slipper fits, Lady Katherine.”

She tossed her magazine at him. He ducked and shot her a playful grin, recalling how many times he used to tickle her on the living-room floor.

Dakota picked up the magazine, his grin fading. Somehow those tickling sessions would inevitably turn into foreplay. Hot, sexy kisses. Rubbing against each other through their clothes.

He looked over at Kathy and noticed her smile had disappeared, too. Just as well, he thought. The less tender memories they made, the better. Because when this assignment ended, they wouldn’t be going home together.

The cottage the queen provided sat on a grassy cliff, the ocean below crashing upon a private stretch of beach. A cool, yet comfortable, sea breeze misted the May air, and clouds drifted lazily across an azure sky.

Kathy had stayed in the isolated cottage on several other occasions, and she adored the quaint, European charm. Window boxes displayed an arrangement of colorful flowers, and leafy vines clung to a white trellis. A scattered-stone walkway led to the front door. Inside was a collection of art and antiques, a cozy living area, two bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen and two bathrooms decorated with hand-painted fixtures. French doors in each bedroom opened onto a lush, well-tended garden. A wrought-iron table sat amid perennial blooms in what Kathy considered an outdoor breakfast nook—a place to sip coffee and breathe the sea air.

The first thing Dakota did was search the cottage for concealed microphones, but Kathy expected as much. A frown furrowed his brow, she noticed. Was he preoccupied with the mission, or had he noticed the romantic ambiance—the vases of long-stemmed roses, the extravagant chocolates placed upon the master-bedroom bed? The big, quilted bed the queen’s servants must have assumed Kathy and Dakota would be sharing?

He completed the search, and she stood beside their luggage. “We won’t have daily maid service,” she said. “There’s a little bungalow behind the garden that was built as servant’s quarters, but it’s vacant. We’ve been provided with enough food, towels and linens to last through the week.”

“Good. The less people around the better.” He turned to look at her. “How did you manage that, anyway?”

“I informed the queen we wanted to be alone. She’s fanatical about seeing to her guests’ personal needs.”

He frowned again. “Of course, our cover. Sorry, it was a stupid question.”

With an answer that made them both wary, she realized. A married couple requesting privacy meant long, sensual baths, sipping wine by candlelight, feeding each other aphrodisiacs.

“I’ll take the smaller bedroom,” he said.

Kathy didn’t respond, instead she followed him as he lifted her luggage and carried it to the master bedroom.

He placed her suitcase and garment bag on the bed, then turned toward the French doors and gazed out. “It’s pretty here.”

She moved to stand beside him. “There’s a fountain in the center of the garden.” And she thought of it as her own private wishing well, even if her wishes had yet to come true. “This cottage is in a world of its own.”

“But it’s not our world.” With rigid shoulders, he turned away from the view, his mood switching from light to dark in one abrupt motion. “I have to meet with my contact soon. We can’t get caught up in flowers and fountains. We’re not on a holiday.”

“I’m well aware of why we’re here.” Angry now, she continued to study the foliage. She wouldn’t allow him to spoil the allure of her garden, a place where mystical creatures made magic. She wanted to believe that fairies fluttered around the flowers, and mermaids splashed in the ocean below.

“Kathy?”

She turned toward him with a hard stare. “What?”

He handed her one of the chocolates from the bed, an apology in his voice. “Truffles. They’re your favorite.”

She bit into the candy and savored the richness, the gentleness in his tone. “Is that why you offered me this room?” A silk-draped room with all the elements Kathy adored—scented candles, fresh-cut flowers, lace-trimmed sheers.

He smiled, but it fell short of reaching his eyes. He was worried, she realized. Worried about the mission, worried about being in an isolated cottage with his estranged wife. There was still so much distance between them, so much unnamed hurt. But how could she tell him that he hadn’t loved her enough? That she needed more?

“You should unpack and get settled in,” he said.

“I will.” She searched his gaze. “Who is your contact, Dakota? Have I met him before?”

He shook his head. “No, but he’s someone I’ve known a long time. A former intelligence officer, another skin.”