TYCOON WARRIOR Read online

  But those were glorified fantasies, she reminded herself. This was reality. Kathy looked away from Dakota. In two weeks they would discuss their decisions. Two weeks. What could possibly change in such a short amount of time, other than Thunder's details about Dakota's next mission?

  "I guess I better get these planted," he said, indicating the trays of potted herbs.

  Kathy should have nodded her head and used this moment to escape, but suddenly she didn't want to. She wanted to lift the plants to her nose and inhale each sweet, earthly fragrance.

  "Do you need some help?" she heard herself ask.

  "I—" He paused to look at her, move his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her Italian shoes. "In those clothes?"

  She lifted her chin under the tight scrutiny. "I'm wearing jeans." And a white cotton blouse with a lace collar. And butter-soft leather flats sporting a designer label. She should have said that she intended to change, but that seemed dull and proper, like a child who didn't have enough spunk to make the freeze bell enjoyable. "Yes, in these clothes. My blouse can be laundered." She slipped off her shoes and stood in her bare feet. "And I like the feel of dirt between my toes."

  He arched a black brow. "More like mud since we're going to be watering these plants."

  She shrugged. "That's okay."

  "All right." He didn't smile, but he sounded amused. "Then let's get to it."

  Sugar, her nose and paws still covered in compost, sent Kathy a doggie grin when Dakota turned his back to retrieve the plants. Surging with excitement, she patted the dusty Maltese. Her first gardening experience. She felt like an eager virgin.

  Dakota set the trays near their work area. "I hope you know more about this than I do."

  She placed her shoes out of the line of fire. "That depends on how much you know."

  "Gee, I'm so glad you offered to help," he said, his voice tinged with pleasant sarcasm. "Now I know we're going to kill every last one of these. By tomorrow morning they'll be needing a decent burial."

  "We'll do no such thing." She lifted a plant she thought was dill, then checked the label with a smug expression. "They're going to be healthy and happy. We'll even talk to them if we have to."

  Dakota shook his head. "If you say so."

  "I do." She sniffed the dill. "This one makes a fabulous dip."

  "It's good for an upset stomach, too," he added. "My mom used to make a tea out of it with white wine."

  "See." Kathy smiled and placed the pot back on the tray. "We know more than we think we do."

  "A barefoot woman, a dirty dog and three bags of compost." He handed her a pair of work gloves and grinned. "What more could a man want?"

  "Nothing, Lieutenant Lewis." She grabbed the gloves and stole his hat, her heart tagging longingly after his. "At the moment you've got it all."

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  «^»

  Dakota was nervous. He hated to admit it, but it was true. Kathy had promised to be home by 1500 hours. And he sure as hell hoped she was on time. This afternoon, patience wasn't his strongest virtue.

  Jake and Jenny were due to arrive at 1530. This would be their first unchaperoned visit with Dakota. Seven-year-old twins. What in God's name had he gotten himself into? What did he know about mentoring second graders?

  He checked his watch and cursed. He couldn't do this without Kathy, at least not today.

  Striding into the kitchen, he removed a half gallon of milk and considered taking a swig from the carton. It used to burn his mom when he did that during his teenage years. But what good would it do to defy her in his own house? She wasn't even there.

  He retrieved a glass and shook his head. Great. Now he was punishing his mom for nudging him into the mentor program. He poured the milk and swallowed it in one long, thirsty gulp.

  A feminine sound rapped his attention. He cocked his head. The sexy snap of high heels on the entryway. Dakota left his glass on the counter and followed the clicking noise.

  Catching sight of Kathy, he stopped. A cream-colored jacket nipped her waist and a matching skirt exposed long, slender legs. Suddenly aroused, he glanced at her feet, not surprised that she made a pair of professional-looking pumps sound wicked.

  He moistened his lips, and she adjusted the briefcase in her right hand. How many of these silent, hungry moments would he be forced to endure? Dakota couldn't think of a damn thing to say. In fact, he couldn't think at all, not beyond the visceral emotion of wanting her.

  Almost a week had passed since their agreement, six days of torture. Neither seemed any closer to a solution. He wanted her to remain his wife; she wanted him to be content giving up his work.

  "I did my best to get here on time," she said.

  Dakota's mind stumbled for a moment, then kicked into gear. The kids. She had come home to help him mentor. "I appreciate it. How was your day?"

  "Fine. I'm still interviewing." She placed her briefcase on a small antique table in the foyer. "How are you doing?"

  "Okay."

  "Are you sure? You seem tense."

  He pulled a hand through his hair. "I'm a little nervous about this, I guess. You know, having the twins here." It was, he supposed, the center of his anxiety this afternoon. That and wanting his wife. Missing her. Praying she wouldn't divorce him.

  She stepped closer. "You shouldn't be. You've already spent time with Jake and Jenny."

  "At their house, with Bob, his wife and the social worker present. Somehow, this doesn't feel the same."

  "But you've been approved for the Mentor Program. That has to mean something."

  He wished his misgiving wasn't so obvious. It made him feel inadequate. But he supposed his limited experience with children spoke for itself. He couldn't pretend that being certified as a weekend foster parent made him an expert.

  "I'm anxious to meet them," she said.

  "I'm glad." He needed her today, more than ever. "They're twins, but they don't seem that much alike. But there is the boy-girl thing, I suppose." He led Kathy into the living room. "I'm worried that they're a little small for their age. When I first saw Jake I thought he was around five. But he and Jenny are seven."

  "Children develop in stages." She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure they'll catch up."

  Dakota worried more for Jake then Jenny. He remembered some of the smaller boys in school being picked on. But that wasn't a cross he'd had to bear. The unkindness he'd endured had come in the form of whispers and unclean looks. Not so much from kids but from adults. His mom may have been an active PTA parent, but she had also been sleeping with a prominent member of the community – a married man.

  Kathy glanced at her watch. "I should change."

  Dakota nodded. "Slip on a pair of jeans and boots. The kids are interested in seeing the horses." Which he hoped would be his saving grace. At Bob's house there had been all sorts of toys to entertain the twins.

  She moved past him, the picture of professional beauty, her wild hair coiled in a tidy topknot, her designer suit simple yet elegant.

  Sugar roused from her favorite napping spot and followed Kathy. She stooped to greet the dog, and Dakota tilted his head. Too bad, he thought, that Kathy hadn't leaned forward. He would have enjoyed a little more leg, a glimpse of thigh. Cradling himself between those creamy thighs occupied a good portion of his thoughts these lonely, troublesome days.

  The doorbell pealed. Dakota let out a breath and answered the summons.

  "Hi." He invited Bob and the children into the house. Bob wore a mail carrier's uniform, signaling the end of a workday. The kids were dressed for the ranch. Jenny had a dark-haired doll with her, and Jake had his hands in his pockets. Both stared up at him with curious faces – wondering, he supposed, how much fun he was going to be.

  Dakota smiled, wishing he were more like Bob. The other man had a relaxed, easy manner, an unmistakable dad-like quality.

  They chatted in the entryway and, before Dakota knew it, Bob hugged the kids and said goodb
ye, leaving Dakota on his own.

  He guided the twins into the kitchen and offered them a soda. He had asked Mrs. Miller to stock up on kid-type food, so now the cupboards were filled with crackers, chips and snack cakes oozing with gooey filling.

  "My wife is getting her boots on," he said. "Soon as she's ready, we'll head out to the barn."

  Jake wiggled and hummed while he drank an orange pop, and Dakota was glad the boy hadn't chosen one of the caffeine colas.

  Jenny, her dark-brown hair fashioned in two long ponytails, placed her doll on the counter.

  Dakota studied the toy. "Hey, she's wearing boots. And fringe, too." The doll appeared to be attired for a Texas hoedown. "What's her name?"

  The girl gave him a look that said he had just asked the dumbest of dumb questions. "Barbie," she replied.

  And everybody, including Dakota, knew who Barbie was.

  Insecurity looming over him, Dakota wondered if he should ply the kids with snacks. Or would that spoil their dinner? Mrs. Miller had suggested hamburgers with a side of macaroni and cheese, then ice cream for dessert.

  Kathy entered the kitchen and saved the moment. "Well, hello." She flashed a radiant smile. "I've heard a lot about the two of you."

  Five minutes later they walked to the barn. And as Jake bubbled with excitement and Jenny reached for Kathy's hand, Dakota's heart gave a warm, yearning lurch. With a light breeze blowing and spring blooming, he felt a sudden, amazing sense of family.

  Kathy held Jenny's hand, wondering how many times she had dreamed of moments like this. Herself and Dakota enjoying the ranch, dark-eyed, dark-haired children beside them.

  Jake, who carried a bag of carrots for the horses, had a charming grin, just crooked enough to make him look mischievous. And Jenny, precocious, ladylike Jenny, was a child beyond her years. They were both delightful, enchanting in their own special way.

  Upon entering the barn, Dakota directed them to the first occupied stall. "This is Kathy's mare," he said. "Her name is Serenity."

  The horse came forward and poked her head out, pleased by the introduction.

  "Can I give her a carrot now?" Jake asked, eager to make friends with Serenity.

  Dakota smiled. "Sure. But let me get you something to stand on, then show you how to feed a horse correctly." He found two empty crates and placed them on the barn floor, helping each twin onto one. Next he cautioned both children to keep their hands flat and offer the carrot in their palms. "Otherwise the horse might nip your fingers."

  Jake laughed as Serenity took the treat from him, and Jenny held perfectly still watching the animal with curious intensity. "She has spots like a leopard," the girl said.

  Dakota glanced at Kathy, and she could see that Jenny's observation impressed him. "That's because Serenity is a leopard Appaloosa. All Appaloosas have spots, but the leopard appy is white with dark spots, kind of like the jungle cat."

  Jenny turned toward the next stall. "What kind is this one? It doesn't have any spots."

  "Nomad is a quarter horse. He's my personal favorite, the one I ride most of the time." The horse snorted and Dakota stroked its nose.

  "Nomad wants a carrot, too," Jenny told Jake, moving her crate so the boy could accommodate the animal. She assumed the role of the older, wiser sibling, even though she had entered the world only minutes before her brother.

  Taking a step back, she looked up at Dakota. "You called Serenity a mare. Does that mean she's a girl?"

  "Sure does."

  "What's a boy horse?"

  "Nomad is a gelding."

  "Oh." She stood quietly for a moment, pondering his answer. "Then what's a stallion?"

  Dakota's head whipped up to catch Kathy's gaze. She smiled and shrugged, amused by his shocked expression. Apparently he had no idea how bright and curious a young child could be. He would have to handle this one on his own, she thought. Jenny and Jake were his charges.

  He frowned, then let out a heavy breath. Jenny waited patiently for his response, her head cocked.

  "A stallion is boy, too."

  "So Nomad is a gelding and a stallion?" Jenny prodded, confused by his simple answer.

  Dakota swallowed, and Kathy placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, wondering if she should come to Dakota's rescue. The big, tough soldier looked as though he had lost his voice.

  "No," he said finally. "Nomad isn't a stallion. He's called a gelding because he—" Dakota paused, possibly rethinking his statement. "He won't ever be a father."

  Jenny studied the horse with an expression bordering on pity. "So Serenity and Nomad can't have babies together?"

  "That's right. But Serenity could have a foal with a stallion if she wanted to." He appeared to notice Jenny's sympathy for the quarter horse. "And most people ride geldings instead of stallions. So you don't have to feel bad for Nomad. He's not particularly interested in being a dad."

  Her worried expression softened. "A foal is a baby horse?"

  Dakota nodded, relief bringing a smile to his lips. "You don't miss anything, Jenny. Do you?"

  "Neither do I," Jake interjected in typical kid fashion, making sure he didn't lose out on any attention. "Can I ride Nomad, Dakota?"

  "Not today, sport. I'd have to give you some lessons, and I can't do that without making sure it's okay with your social worker first."

  "You can ask our mom, too." Jake pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Mrs. Newberry takes us to see her every other weekend. You can come with us."

  Kathy assumed Mrs. Newberry was the social worker. She glanced at Dakota and waited for him to answer.

  "I'll talk to Mrs. Newberry," he said. "And we'll let her decide when I can meet your mom. All right?"

  "Kathy, too," Jake added. "I want Kathy to meet our mom, too."

  Her heart tugged. Being included in something so important to Jake felt wonderful, but it tied her to Dakota in a way that made her sad. Next week they were supposed to discuss their marital status – the choices they needed to make. Choices Kathy was afraid to face. If she asked Dakota to give up his work, he would. But she couldn't see basing their reconciliation on a forced issue, on his desperation and guilt.

  She met Dakota's gaze, and he smiled, making her heart hurt even more.

  He hoisted Jake up, and the boy laughed. Kathy still had her hand on Jenny's shoulder, the connection easing her a bit. Today was for the children.

  "In the old days, one of the first things a Comanche kid learned to do was ride," Dakota said. "Both girls and boys were taught to ride with and without a saddle. But the boys had to try harder because they were expected to do tricks."

  "How come?" Jake asked, interest alive in his dark eyes.

  "Because it was part of their training to become warriors. When a boy was young he had to learn to pick up objects from the ground while his horse was running full speed. At first, these were small, light objects." Dakota placed Jake back on his feet and continued. "But as the boy grew older, heavier things were used. So by the time he became a man, he was able to rescue an injured warrior. Pick him up from the ground and swing him across his horse."

  "But that must have hurt the guy who was bleeding," Jake said, clearly searching for the logic in Dakota's story.

  "Maybe, but it was better than leaving him there to be killed by the enemy. And usually two men performed this task together, both lifting the fallen warrior at the same time. There wasn't much else they could do. They didn't have ambulances in those days."

  Jenny gazed up at Dakota. "Can you ride like a warrior?"

  He smiled at the little girl, then knelt to bring himself to her level. "I've never rescued anyone on horseback, but I can do a few tricks."

  Kathy struggled with her next breath. Maybe he had never lifted a fallen comrade onto his horse, but he had spent a good portion of his life flying into enemy territory and rescuing downed airmen who would have otherwise died. And hostages, Kathy thought. How many innocent civilians had he rescued? Dakota Lewis was more than a warrior. To those he had sa
ved, he was a hero.

  "Will you ride for us?" Jenny asked. "Show us some tricks."

  "Sure."

  He winked at the girl, then glanced at Kathy. She managed a shaky smile and told her lovelorn heart to be still. Now wasn't the time to miss him.

  * * *

  Jake and Jenny went home and evening brought moments of reflective silence. Although sadness had edged portions of the day, Kathy couldn't deny how much she had enjoyed watching Dakota with the children.

  He would have made a loving, attentive father.

  She excused the thought and concentrated on loading the dishwasher instead. She had no business drifting over that emotional line.

  Dakota came up behind her. She heard his booted footsteps, smelled the faint note of his cologne blending with the earthy scents of hay and horses.

  She turned to look at him, unable to control the attraction rising inside her. The excited flutter. The yearning. The need to hold and touch.

  "Would you like to sit outside for a while?" he asked. "Maybe have a glass of wine?"

  "That sounds nice." She dried her hands and released the top button on her blouse, certain fresh air would do her good.

  He poured two glasses of zinfandel and offered her one. She accepted the drink, and he opened the backdoor. Wine in hand, she slipped past him, leading the way to the courtyard.

  Just as she'd imagined, the air was cool and fresh. She took a seat at the wrought-iron table and tipped her head to the sky. "It's a beautiful night." A vast strip of velvet showcased a glitter of stars, and a three-quarter moon shone with a silvery haze.

  Dakota settled across from her, angling his chair so he could stretch his legs. The heel of a boot scraped the courtyard's Spanish tile. "It was a beautiful day, too."

  Kathy nodded and studied her husband. The illumination from the patio lamps highlighted his eyes and shadowed those arresting cheekbones. She thought his face resembled that of a nineteenth-century warrior, a man marked by a hardened lifestyle, the risks that had become part of his nature. When he lifted his wine, it struck her how delicate the glass seemed in his large, callused hand.