than respond, Dakota studied her through those dark, indiscernible eyes. She felt his gaze on her face, her hands, her nervous fingers as they gripped the soda. Once again she became aware of the tousled bed, the dimness of the room, the breadth of his shoulders. Now she wanted to throttle him for answering the door half-naked. A gentleman would have slipped on a shirt and fastened his jeans.
“Damn it, Dakota, say something.”
A column of dusky gray ashes gathered on the end of his cigarette. He squinted through the haze of smoke, then flicked the ashes, nearly missing his mark. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Annie lifted her chin, feigning a sense of bravado she didn’t quite feel. This was, by far, the most humiliating experience of her life. “I’m asking for the sake of the kids.”
He stared at her again, another long, thoughtful stare. Annie exhaled a shaky breath. Was he going to refuse? Say, Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy. I like my freedom. A wife will cramp my style. Marrying you is going above and beyond the call of duty.
All she was asking for was a marriage of convenience. She would never expect a man like Dakota to be a real husband. Besides, that wasn’t what she wanted, either. What she wanted, Annie decided, was to turn and walk away. Yet she couldn’t. She had three little boys depending on her. And those children were far more important than her pride.
Dakota stamped out his cigarette, then dragged a hand through his hair. The unsettling look in Annie’s whisky-colored eyes told him plenty. She was worried he would brush her off with without a second thought.
Well, she was wrong. He intended to accept her proposal. But then why wouldn’t he? He’d known it was coming long before Annie did. He’d known for two years.
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
