into his palm. “Get rid of them.”
As though dumfounded, he stared down at his hand. “But I always use protection.”
Annie crossed her arms. “Well, your days of getting lucky are over. You don’t need them anymore.”
This time he actually had the gall to laugh. It rumbled from his chest like a quick blast of thunder. “All right. But you can’t avoid me forever. We’re married, ya know.”
She pushed her lingerie drawer closed. “I was forced into this situation, remember?” As much as she appreciated him coming to her rescue, she wasn’t about to be bullied into lovemaking. Nor did she want protection available for his convenience. “And stop laughing. This isn’t funny.”
He swallowed the last of his mirth and tossed the condoms back onto his duffel bag. “I’ll get rid of them tomorrow.”
“No. You’ll throw them away right now,” she said in her bossiest mom-voice. “And be sure to put them in the big trash can outside so the boys don’t find them. Miles is obsessed with water balloons.”
Dakota grabbed the packets, then burst back into laughter. “You don’t really think…I mean…water balloons?”
Annie caught her husband’s eye only to find herself humored right along with him. Miles was capable of all sorts of odd shenanigans. Dakota would find out soon enough. “Would you just get out of here and throw those away.”
He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat and lunged to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shook her head. The man hadn’t even stopped to slip on a pair of jeans. What would the neighbors think if they saw him taking out trash in his underwear? Oh, good grief. What neighbors? The nearest house sat an acre away.
She cleared the middle drawer and shoved the previous contents into the bottom of her closet to deal with another time. Stretching, she rose to her feet and headed for the master bathroom. The kids were down, and Dakota’s bed was made up on the couch. A much needed bubble bath and a warm bed with her favorite designer sheets awaited.
Twenty minutes later Annie emerged from the bathroom, her skin smoothed and scented, her body draped in a blush-rose nightgown—a modest yet feminine garment she had created for every mom who needed a little luxury in her life. Soft cotton swirled around her ankles, and a hint of lace added texture to a sweetheart bodice.
“I’ve been wondering what you sleep in.”
Annie froze. Dakota, in her bed, dark and masculine amid the floral-printed sheets and hand-painted quilt. She resisted the urge to stroke her bare arms and the goose bumps chilling them. “What are you doing?”
“Admiring you. God, you’re beautiful.”
She ignored the compliment and the husky tone of his voice. “I made your bed up on the couch.”
“I love blond hair. Especially yours. You remind me of one of those movie stars from a long time ago. Silvery-white hair and a body that won’t quit.”
Stop trying to seduce me. She pointed to the door. “Dakota. The couch.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, darlin.’ I had a spinal-cord injury. I can’t sleep on the couch. Doesn’t have proper back support.” He glanced down at the sheet draped over his hips. “Does everything in your house have flowers on it? Daisies in the kitchen, roses in the bedroom…”
She began to pace. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”
He patted the space next to him and grinned. “Right next to your husband, darlin,’ like a good little wife.”
Annie blew an agitated breath. So Dakota had agreed to marry her and adopt the kids. That didn’t mean she had to offer herself to him like a sacrificial lamb. If she gave him an inch, he’d surely take a mile. Or two. “Stop calling me darlin.’ It’s annoying.” And kind of sexy. He had a drawl to die for.
“Sorry, dar—” A low chuckle sounded. “Honey.”
Annie stopped pacing and stared down at him. There he was, his arms resting behind his head, looking like the king of Siam in her bed. Her comfortable, warm bed, with its extrafirm mattress and custom-ordered quilt. The sea-foam-and-mauve room had been decorated just to her liking. A rolltop desk and an antique headboard matched the whitewashed dresser. Lace curtains trimmed with a floral valance adorned both windows as baskets of potpourri sweetened the air. A mirrored vanity laden with perfume bottles sat adjacent to the bed—the very one Dakota lolled in.
She narrowed her eyes. “I should have found another Cheyenne to marry.”
He grinned back at her. “You don’t know any other Cheyenne men. Now quit acting like a baby and get in bed. I don’t bite.”
No, but he could turn her insides to mush with a kiss. And that scared the daylights out of her. “I’m not sleeping with you.” She opened the closet and grabbed her robe. “I’ll survive the couch.”
“No way. That’s not fair. Besides, if you sleep on the sofa every night, the kids will think we’re fighting. And then they’ll tell Harold.”
Annie sighed. Dakota was right, of course. Harold had already called twice since they’d returned from Las Vegas. She certainly didn’t want to create a problem in the older man’s eyes. And she’d hate for the kids to think she and Dakota were fighting. Even though this marriage wasn’t likely to last, she intended to keep Dakota as a friend. The screaming matches that had ended her parents’ relationship still left her cold.
“Come on, squirt.” Dakota moved closer to the wall, away from what he’d apparently decided was her side of the bed. “I’ll be good. I swear. I won’t even pester you for a goodnight kiss.”
“Fine. Let’s just get some sleep.” Annie hung her robe in the closet, turned off the light and climbed into bed without the slightest bit of ceremony. She needed to feign an air of indifference. He’d probably laugh if he knew how nervous she was.
Just as she closed her eyes, he rolled over, taking the blanket with him.
“Dakota!”
“What?”
“You’re hogging the blanket.”
The bed stirred as he sat up. “Sorry. Guess I’m not used to sharing.”
Annie turned toward him, then swallowed her next breath. She should have let him keep the blanket. Moonlight trapped his silhouette, highlighting his movements. His hair tumbled forward as he plowed his hand through it, his extended arm perfectly formed.
She wasn’t used to sharing, either. She had given up men years ago. Oh, right. Now there’s a sacrifice, she thought ironically. A virgin giving up men.
They settled in once again, and she tried to keep herself from breathing too deeply. Deodorized soap lingered on his skin, a masculine scent she wasn’t accustomed to. He must have showered in the bathroom the kids used.
Annie couldn’t sleep. The king-size bed seemed suddenly too small. Dakota’s brawn took up too much space, and her nervous stomach had decided to do cartwheels. As a crush-crazed adolescent, she
