TYCOON WARRIOR Page 11

  "Oh, honey. It doesn't sound foolish at all."

  Kathy scooted to the edge of the sofa. "Then you understand why I left?"

  Violet pursed her lips. "I suppose I do. Except it's a little difficult for me to accept because he's my son. I want to believe that Dakota was a perfect husband, even if he wasn't."

  Kathy's eyes turned misty again. "I never stopped loving him."

  Violet squeezed her hand. "Now that part I truly understand. I know it's possible to love a man who always has other priorities. Who makes you feel like you're second-best in his heart."

  Unable to conceal her curiosity, Kathy blinked away her tears. "Dakota's father?"

  Violet nodded. "If Jack Lewis wasn't caught up in an important business deal, then he was attending a social function with his wife." She released a heavy sigh and went on, "I realize that I shouldn't have been involved with a married man, but I honestly believed he was going to divorce his wife and marry me. Jack and Sharon had one of those society marriages. There wasn't any real love between them."

  "We've never talked about this before." Kathy knew Violet had been Jack's mistress, but she had no idea Dakota's mother had wanted something more. "I assumed you were comfortable with the arrangement."

  "No, I never was."

  "But you were with him all those years."

  "Yes, all those years, and he was still married to Sharon. They even died together."

  A boating accident, Kathy recalled. "I'm sorry. I had no idea." Which seemed disrespectful to Dakota's mother. Most women would prefer to be a wife than a mistress.

  "I was nineteen when I met Jack. Nineteen and naive. I left him once, though. I was devastated that I was about to give birth, and my baby's father still hadn't made arrangements to marry me. So I went to South Dakota to stay with a friend." She sent Kathy a woman-to-woman smile. "Two months later I came back to Texas."

  Kathy returned Violet's smile. "And presented Jack with a son."

  "An illegitimate son. Something Dakota never let himself forget."

  Both of their smiles faded. "But he hasn't made an issue of it, at least not to me. I was under the impression it didn't matter to him all that much."

  "It mattered." Violet reached for her coffee, then took a sip. "Being the illegitimate son of a prominent man wasn't easy, even if Jack treated him well. Dakota tried very hard to legitimize himself, to be accepted by his father's peers. And I suppose serving his country was a way of proving his worth. Dakota enlisted at seventeen, a boy on the verge of manhood."

  And now Kathy understood why her husband didn't enjoy high-society events. They reminded him of a time when he wasn't welcome. "It must have made things easier on Dakota that Jack and Sharon didn't have any children. At least he was Jack's only son."

  "That's true, but his father being intimate with two women was still a problem. I don't think Dakota understands the true concept of marriage – how much work is involved or how much a couple has to give of themselves. In that respect, Jack was a poor role model."

  Kathy nodded. It made sense. All of it. Unlike his father, Dakota had remained faithful to his vows, but be still didn't consider marriage the number-one priority in his life. His career had always come first.

  "Dakota still doesn't know why I left. I can't seem to bring myself to say the words out loud. At least not to him." And that sounded like an excuse, Kathy thought. Feeble and unfair. But there was the baby she had wanted so badly – the part of her heart she had lost.

  Violet frowned. "Has he asked? Has he questioned you about it at all?"

  "No."

  "Then maybe he isn't ready to face the past. Maybe he needs a little more time to sort out his feelings."

  Kathy cocked her head, considering the possibility. "I hadn't thought of that." She hadn't thought of anything but her guilt, her secret, her own loss. But what Violet suggested provided a small measure of relief. Kathy wasn't ready to talk about the past, and Dakota wasn't ready to hear about it. "After I left, did he confide in you? Did he say anything?"

  "Not a word," the other woman responded in a soft, almost sad voice. "At first he closed himself off completely, and later he threw himself into his work, doing all of those dangerous things that he does."

  Kathy lifted her coffee. Dangerous things. She understood that phrase well. "So he—" As a pair of boots sounded on the Spanish tile, she nearly spilled the hot drink.

  Dakota.

  "He's home." She looked up at Violet, and they both waited for him to enter the room.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  While Kathy battled a bout of nervousness, Violet stood and approached her son. Had he overheard their conversation? Kathy wondered.

  She stole a quick glance and decided he hadn't. It wasn't in Dakota's nature to eavesdrop.

  "Mom." He hugged her, then stepped back. "It's good to see you."

  "Kathy said you were in Lubbock."

  He nodded. "I had some business to take care of with Dad's properties."

  Kathy shifted on the couch. Strange, she thought, how Dakota still hadn't taken mental possession of the shopping centers Jack had left him. He still referred to them as his father's – a man who had influenced him more than she had realized.

  Violet resumed her seat, and Dakota turned toward Kathy. "Hi."

  "Hi." She met his gaze, her heart leaping into its teeter-totter mode. Why couldn't she look at him without experiencing a physical reaction? "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

  "I had a meeting this morning, but it ended early."

  He held her gaze, and her heart continued to flutter. He wore a tan T-shirt, faded blue jeans and distressed leather boots – clothes too casual for a business meeting. Apparently he had changed before coming home.

  Kathy chewed her lip. Were those the Wranglers he had worn during their telephone conversation? Unable to help herself, she glanced at his fly, then back up to his face. He flashed a bedroom smile and made her hot all over.

  Are you wearing jeans?

  Yes.

  Are they unzipped?

  As far down as they'll go.

  Violet cleared her throat, and Kathy felt like a teenager who'd been caught lusting after an older boy. Her nipples tingled against her bra, not a good thing to happen when the older boy's observant mother occupied the same room.

  Dakota looked away and pulled a hand through his hair. "So, Mom, what's going on? What made you stop by?"

  "Do I need a special reason to come to your house?"

  "No, of course not."

  Violet's eyes, Kathy noticed, sparkled with amusement. But her big, strong, Comanche son revealed something rare – an embarrassed flush coloring his bronzed cheeks. Of course, he had been caught behaving like a teenager, too – sending Kathy a provocative, I'm-thinking-about-sex smile.

  Dakota moved toward a leather recliner and sat. Careful, it seemed, not to cast his gaze in Kathy's direction. He focused on his mother instead.

  Unwelcome silence ensued, and Kathy wished her heart would quit bumping against her breast Violet couldn't possibly know that she had climbed into Dakota's bed while he was gone, or that his shirt had brushed decadently between her naked thighs.

  Two or three minutes passed, but still no one spoke. They just sat there, Kathy and Dakota avoiding eye contact, and Violet splitting her amused gaze between them.

  "Actually I did stop by for a reason," she admitted finally.

  Grateful for the reprieve, Kathy's breath rushed out of her lungs. Dakota, too, seemed grateful his mother had decided to let them off the hook. He leaned forward in his chair.

  "As you know," Violet said, "I'm on the board of directors at the West Texas Indian Center, and we need some volunteers to help out with an event next Saturday."

  "What kind of an event?" Dakota asked.

  "A carnival to raise money for the Foster Care Mentor Program."

  Apparently more relaxed, Dakota strode to the bar and poured himself a soda water.
"Oh, yeah. You mentioned that program before."

  Violet explained to Kathy. "Since we're not able to place all of the children in Indian homes, we're trying to secure weekend foster parents. It's actually called respite care, but we prefer to think of it as our Mentor Program."

  "That sounds wonderful," Kathy responded. "Role models are important." Especially to kids from troubled homes, she thought sadly.

  "So you'll help out at the carnival?" the other woman asked.

  "I'd love to."

  Violet looked at Dakota, and he placed his drink on the bar. "Sure, Mom. Me, too."

  "Good." She smiled at both of them. "I should get going. I still have more volunteers to recruit" She hugged Kathy, then took her son's arm as he walked her to the door.

  Kathy busied herself carrying coffee cups and the leftover pastries into the kitchen. A minute later, Dakota came in and grabbed one of the sweets.

  "I enjoyed visiting with your mom," she said before the lone moment trapped them into another awkward spell.

  "I imagine she was surprised to see you. I should have called her and told her you were staying here."

  "That's okay." Kathy didn't want to think about telephone conversations, not when she couldn't get the other night out of her mind.

  She rinsed the cups and placed them in the dishwasher, then turned to see Dakota licking icing from a cinnamon roll.

  He smiled that sexy smile, and she swallowed.

  "Do you want a bite?" he asked.

  She wanted to bite him. Kiss and nibble. Taste that warm, dark, tantalizing skin.

  Struggling to respond in a dignified voice, she cleared her throat and then remembered why Dakota's mother had done that earlier. "No, thank you," she managed.

  Sugar trotted into the kitchen and saved Kathy's sanity. The dog made a wide circle around Dakota to get to her.

  "She still doesn't like me," he said.

  Kathy opened a can of dog food, glad the Maltese had given her another busy task. "I know, I'm sorry. I just don't understand it."

  "I do." He leaned against the counter, his shoulder nearly brushing hers. "Sugar isn't used to men."

  And he was definitely a man, she thought, cursing her quavering heart. Dakota Lewis was as rugged as his gender came.

  She filled the dog's bowl, hardly blaming Sugar for being nervous around him. "Then I suppose it will take time."

  Time she wouldn't allow herself to have. Soon she would have to find another place to live.

  * * *

  Dakota knew he didn't have much time. Several days had passed since he'd returned from Lubbock, and he'd barely seen Kathy. She spent every free moment looking at rentals. How was he supposed to win his wife back once she moved out?

  Call her? Make love on the phone?

  The idea had merit, but it wasn't the same as a flesh-to-flesh encounter. He missed holding her, missed being her husband.

  And his progress with Sugar was slow, too. He opened the box of dog treats he kept in his room and stuffed a few in his pocket. He bribed the Maltese whenever Kathy wasn't around, although it didn't appear to do him much good. The dog still wouldn't get close enough to take the treat from his hand. He would set it on the floor, and she would wait until he backed away before nabbing it.

  He strode down the hall, then entered the kitchen where he found Sugar with Mrs. Miller. The dog danced happily around the older woman's feet as she cleaned.

  He assessed the situation. Little white dog. Big, dark Comanche man. Unless he got some outside help, his chances were slim to none with that pooch.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Miller."

  She looked up from her sponge. "Hello, Lieutenant."

  He stood at attention, but why, he couldn't be sure. Mrs. Miller was hardly his superior. "I need a favor from you."

  She took a break from her chore. "Yes, sir. What is it?"

  "I want you to help me make friends with the dog." He eyed Sugar and noticed her ears had perked. "I'm not having much luck on my own."

  Mrs. Miller cocked her head, giving him the same curious look as the dog. "What seems to be the trouble, Lieutenant?"

  Dakota didn't ease his stance. At the moment he felt far from casual. What he felt, he realized, was tense. Out of his element. "Sugar doesn't appear to like men."

  "Oh, my. That could present a problem."

  She glanced at the dog, then back at Dakota, her bottom lip quivering. Was she suppressing a smile? he wondered. No-nonsense, never-cracks-a smile Miller?

  "I don't suppose we can put you in a dress," she said, her lip quivering just a bit more.

  Dakota raised an eyebrow at her. He supposed the image was funny, but he hadn't pegged the housekeeper as the smart-aleck type. Deciding he liked this side of her, he grinned. "Why not? I've got great legs."

  She finally smiled. And when she did, her entire face came alive. "I hope it won't come to that." She reached down and scooped up the dog. "Say hello to her. How you talk to an animal is important."

  Okay, now he felt stupid. Sugar, her gold hair bow angled like a crown, looked like the queen bee in Mrs. Miller's arms, just waiting for him to make an ass out of himself.

  "Hi, Sugar," he said.

  The dog turned her white fluffy head away, and Mrs. Miller snorted. "Your voice is too deep."

  Dakota frowned, wondering what in the hell he had gotten himself into. "It's called testosterone. I can't help it." Hadn't they already discussed the fact that he was a man?

  "Of course you can help it," she scolded. "Haven't you ever talked to a baby?"

  A baby? "Actually, no." His lifestyle didn't lend itself to pink and blue bundles. Dakota didn't know diddly about kids, especially the diaper-clad variety.

  Mrs. Miller tsked, and he wondered if she had given up on him. She placed the Maltese on the floor, then asked, "So what have you been doing to get Sugar's attention?"

  He reached into his pocket and produced the doggie treats. The older woman made another disapproving noise. "I think we can do better than that."

  "Better than that" turned out to be pan-fried bits of filet mignon. "Grandma's making you something special," Mrs. Miller told Sugar, who sat sniffing the air.

  Grandma? Dakota shook his head. He sure as hell hoped that didn't make him the dog's—

  "Daddy's going to help," the gray-haired lady added, shooting him a you-better-get-involved glance. "Aren't you, Lieutenant?"

  Daddy seasoned the steak, thinking he'd just lost his mind. All this fuss for a five-pound mutt.

  They waited for the meat to cool. Sugar let out a few anxious yips, wiggling impatiently on the floor. Dakota didn't make a move without Mrs. Miller's instruction. The housekeeper had taken charge, giving orders the way his mother sometimes did, outranking him with feminine skill.

  "Now you can feed her," she told him. "One piece at a time."

  He knelt and offered the treat. As badly as Sugar wanted the steak, she didn't forget herself. She looked up at Mrs. Miller and whined, clearly pleading for help.

  "Go on," the older lady urged. "He won't hurt you."

  The dog inched closer and took the meat. Dakota grinned, feeling like he'd just scaled a mountain. He continued hand feeding Sugar, and by the time she'd devoured the last piece, the pooch was sitting on his lap.

  Mrs. Miller smiled. "You realize we've just spoiled her for life?"

  "It's for an important cause."

  "I know," the woman said gently. "It would be nice if Kathy and Sugar moved in permanently. I like your wife, Lieutenant You're good for each other."

  "Thank you." His heart went soft. "I think so, too."

  * * *

  On Saturday morning, Kathy woke with the sun. It was too early to get ready for the carnival, so she brushed her teeth and slipped on her chenille robe, preparing to start a pot of coffee.

  Sugar roused from her spot on the bed and followed Kathy into the hall . But as they passed Dakota's room, the dog nudged open the crack in the door.

  "Sugar, no!" Kat
hy's warning came too late. The Maltese had already darted inside.

  Without a second thought, Kathy went after her, then stopped when she neared the bed. Dakota was still asleep, the sheets tangled around his waist, the quilt kicked away from him. His face, she noticed, was dark and angular, the tiny lines around his eyes prominent in the morning light. Black hair spiked against his pillow, and beard stubble shadowed his jaw.

  He looked warm and touchable, she thought. Like the man she had married, yet slightly changed. She wanted to tame his hair, skim his cheek. But she knew better. He wasn't hers anymore. Too much time had passed, too much heartache. And he was still a soldier. Soon there would be another mission. Dakota wouldn't remain idle for long.

  So why was she here, standing in his room, longing for what could never be? What had possessed her to get this close to him?

  Good grief. Sugar. One long, stolen glance at Dakota and she had forgotten about the dog.

  "Sugar," she whispered, looking around the room. "Come on, sweetie, we have to go."

  A movement from the bed caught her eye, and a familiar being emerged from beneath the rumpled quilt – two black eyes, a mass of silky white fur and a half-cocked metallic bow.

  Kathy sent the dog a scolding glance, keeping her voice hushed. "What are you doing in his bed? You don't even like him."

  As if determined to defy Kathy's words, Sugar picked her way around the tangled sheets and settled herself right next to Dakota, snug against his bare chest.

  Kathy had to smile. The big man and the little dog were an odd, but tender sight. Sugar's white paw rested on Dakota's arm, and he nuzzled closer, stirring in his sleep.

  She turned to leave them alone, but only got as far as the door.

  "Kathy?"

  She turned back to see Dakota squinting at her. She should have known he would awaken. Dakota was a light sleeper. She assumed it came from his military background, night after night of sleepless combat. "I'm sorry I disturbed you. I was looking for Sugar."

  "She's right here. Did I oversleep?"

  "No. It's still early."