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
