TYCOON WARRIOR Page 4
"Oh, okay." She moved to allow him room at the butcher-block isle.
He came forward, grazing her shoulder as he reached for the bread. She slipped by him to rinse a tomato. And when she turned back, her robe fell open.
He wasn't a painter, a man who made images come to life, but at this moment, this incredible, breathtaking moment, he sought to immortalize her. Kathy's nightgown was as filmy as a lace curtain, as sheer as a summer rain. Her nipples brushed the surface, and he imagined the fabric cool and sleek against her skin.
He lifted his head, and their gazes collided. The tomato fell from her hand and rolled onto the butcher block. And then nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.
"What's happening?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He heard her, yet he didn't. Her robe was still open, and heat rose between their bodies like steam. He knew they fought to breathe the same air.
Outside the wind grew angry with lust, forcing its way through the trees. He could hear it raffling the windows.
He fought the urge to push her to the floor, tumble and roll, tear at the wisp of silk and lace she wore. Wild, forbidden lovemaking. The wind was challenging him to take her. His loins hardened, his pulse quickened, his mouth went dry. He moistened his lips and imagined tasting hers.
What's happening?
The wind howled again, and Dakota gripped the counter. Damn the wind. Damn the ache in his groin. He stared at Kathy; she stared back at him. Her eyes shone like emeralds. Sensual. Catlike. Damn her.
Damn them both.
"Nothing's happening," he said, masking the arousal in his voice, the huskiness that nearly made him hoarse. "Your robe came undone, and..."
She moved like lightning, a blur before his eyes. When he focused again, her robe was belted, snug and secure. She picked up the tomato as though trying to backtrack, make that other moment disappear.
She glanced at him quickly, then looked away. She couldn't meet his gaze, yet only moments ago those green eyes bore brazenly into his.
This was so damn awkward, he thought. It shouldn't be, but it was. He had seen every inch of her, caressed her most intimate places. They had showered together, licked beads of water off each other's skin. They weren't sexual strangers. Yet they were. Three years spanned between them – an eternity.
"Maybe we should talk about it."
"There's nothing to talk about." She studied the tomato she had cut into even little slices. "We're making sandwiches."
"I'm not hungry. I only said I wanted a sandwich so I could get close to you. But I'm okay now. I got through it, and so did you." He tossed his bread in the trash. "This is only our first night. We'll feel better in the morning. Normal." The wind would calm and the sexual pull would pass. Daylight would make everything all right
She glanced up. "Do you think so?"
He could hope. "Sure. We just have to get used to each other."
Much to his relief, Kathy smiled – a small, delicate tilt of her lips. "Maybe I'll pass on the sandwich, too," she said. "It's been a long day, and I could use some sleep."
* * *
Dakota finally slept, not a deep, soundless sleep, but enough to help him function the following morning. He knew he would find Kathy in the kitchen. He could smell breakfast, the homey aroma of bacon sizzling and eggs frying.
He stood at the bathroom sink and splashed water on his face. A shower could wait. He couldn't recall the last time Kathy had cooked for him. It was a good sign, he thought. Apparently she had decided to put what had happened behind them.
As casually as possible, he entered the kitchen. "Good morning. Is there anything I can do to help?"
She turned away from the stove, and for a moment, a suspended moment in time, their eyes met. And held.
He stood, riveted to the floor, the tiles cool against his feet. Don't let it happen again. Not now. Not today.
She blinked, and the air in his lungs whooshed out.
"You can set the table."
"Sure. Okay." He opened the appropriate cabinet and removed the dishes. "The bacon smells good. A great aroma to wake up to."
"I figured we could both use a hearty breakfast" She motioned to the coffee pot "It's strong and dark, just the way you like it"
"Thanks." Sidetracked now, he left the table half set. Pouring himself a mug of freshly perked coffee, he leaned against the counter and sipped. Was Kathy worried about his meeting with Payune? Was that the reason for this special treatment? Or was she trying to prove how normal staying in the same house could be?
Her hair was coiffed to perfection, he noticed, the fiery tresses twisted neatly, two pearl combs making an elegant statement. Her skin glowed flawlessly, her makeup applied with skill. She wasn't dressed to go out, but he sensed she would be before long.
Realizing breakfast was ready and he'd neglected his domestic duty, he gathered some silverware and napkins. The kitchen table matched the butcher-block isle, and a bay window presented a spectacular view.
She filled their plates and took a chair. He sat across from her and smiled. She had placed his favorite hot sauce on the table. Apparently she had supplied the queen's servants with a list of foods to provide, right down to brand name selections – items imported from a variety of continents.
He lifted the bottle, then poured the spicy sauce over his eggs. "You remembered."
"Of course," she responded in an easy voice. "How could I forget? You practically refuse to eat breakfast without it."
Was she as relaxed as she seemed? Or was she drawing from her social skills to fool him? Dakota thought Kathy would make a hell of a poker player. She could bluff with the best of them. He had no idea what was actually going on in her mind.
His one-track mind, on the other hand, had taken a dangerous turn. He imagined destroying her proper hairdo, bathing her lips with strawberry preserve, then licking it off with slow, erotic strokes. Apparently his social skills, as well as his table manners, weren't enviable qualities. It didn't take much to fuel his sexual appetite – a sunny kitchen and a tasty breakfast did him just fine. Now last night's haunting didn't seem quite so odd. The woman had been wearing see-through silk.
"Do you have an appointment later?" he asked.
"Tea with the queen. The palace is sending a car for me this afternoon."
A long, black limo, no doubt. He cocked his head. "That sounds downright snooty. Why didn't you tell me before now?"
She buttered her toast. "I always have tea with the queen when I'm invited to Asterland. This is nothing out of the ordinary. It won't arouse suspicion."
He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth and swallowed, enjoying the trappings of a home-cooked meal. "Routine or not, you still have to keep me informed about everywhere you go, everything you do. Don't take anything for granted while we're here. Okay?"
She nodded solemnly. "Okay."
Dakota savored a slice of bacon, and Kathy added cream to her coffee, a drink he assumed she had diluted with extra water. He knew she preferred a milder brew.
She studied her cup, and he assumed her mind was on her audience with the queen.
Today they would both slip into their respective roles.
* * *
Hours later Dakota arrived at Albert Payune's home. A crenellated gateway, reminiscent of a medieval structure, led to the entrance of the Grand Minister's estate. The house itself wasn't quite so foreboding, but it reflected European craftsmanship with its stone-by-stone construction.
A butler escorted Dakota to a dimly lit office furnished with a large mahogany desk and leather wing-back chairs. But what caught Dakota's eye was an impressive collection of swords. Displayed on the paneled walls, they wielded military power, something Payune obviously admired.
"The Grand Minister will be with you shortly," the butler said, his English heavily accented.
"Thank you," Dakota responded, exaggerating his drawl. Today he was a big, tall, rich Texan – a businessman eager to make an unethical deal.
Minutes later Payune entered the room. A man in his early fifties, he stood with his shoulders squared and his head held high. He was neither tall nor broad. He was of medium height with a medium build, his physique toned and trim. He wore a dark suit with a silk ascot tie. And although his hair was thinning, he wasn't foolish enough to style it in one of those ridiculous comb-overs. Albert Payune carried his vanity with pride. He had an impeccable quality about him, but power-hungry rulers often did.
Payune extended his hand, and they exchanged a proper greeting.
Dakota had dressed carefully for the occasion. He couldn't present himself as a showy, loud-mouthed American, because that would belie his military background. But he still wanted to be easily identified with Payune's image of Texas, so he had worn a pair of custom-made cowboy boots and a 5X Royal Stetson he'd removed upon entering the house.
"Please, have a seat, Lieutenant Lewis."
"Thank you." Dakota settled into one of the wing-back chairs while Payune walked around to the desk. Referring to a retired officer by his rank was accepted as proper protocol, and a man in Payune's position would naturally adhere to decorum
The butler appeared with a silver tray, offering both men snifters of brandy. When the servant departed, Payune lifted his eyes to Dakota.
"So you have come to discuss a business venture?"
"Yes, sir, I have." Dakota met the other man's detached gaze. "My partners and I intend to open a resort in Asterland with the biggest, grandest casino imaginable. But our only stumbling block is King Bertram." And for the sake of this mission, a proposal for the resort had been presented to the Cabinet under the guise of a Texas corporation. A proposal Dakota knew the king would not approve.
"I see." Payune swirled his brandy. "Am I to understand that you want me to influence King Bertram to reconsider his stand on this matter?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"You realize the king believes our country could not successfully support a venture such as yours. Our neighbors in Obersbourg have converted a portion of their palace into an exclusive gaming casino. How many resorts are tourists willing to visit? Asterland is still quite obscure."
"So was Obersbourg before they opened their casino. And Dakota knew damn well Payune didn't intend to rule an obscure little country. He wanted to put himself and Asterland on the map. "I'm talking about a full-scale resort – a five-star hotel, a spa, a country club and a PGA quality golf course. I have some of the wealthiest men in Texas in on this deal. And we don't intend to take no for an answer."
Payune's demeanor was no longer detached. "I've seen your proposal. And I must admit, it was quite impressive."
"And so is the fact that you're going to govern Asterland someday."
"You're mistaken. Prince Eric is heir to the throne."
Dakota chose not to comment further. The Grand Minister was playing the loyal Cabinet-member, feigning disinterest in the crown.
Payune placed his hands on the desk, then linked them together. "As I said, the proposal for your resort was impressive, but I am puzzled by one thing."
Dakota sipped his drink even though he had never acquired a taste for brandy. "And what would that be?"
"Why, your wife, of course. Is she aware of your venture?"
Dakota's heart took a quick, forward leap. "She's not only aware of it, she supports it without reserve."
"But she is also a high-ranking Foreign Affairs consular."
Dakota kept his gaze focused on his opponent. "That's right, she is," he said, his tone implying Kathy used a government job to her best advantage. If Payune assumed Kathy's friendship with the royal family had been manipulated to influence the king to approve the resort, then all the better. But before the other man concentrated too deeply on Kathy, Dakota continued, "I was hoping, sir, that you would help me get this project off the ground. If anyone can make this happen, you can."
Payune sat with his head tilted at a regal angle. "I appreciate your confidence, but I do not see how I can."
"Maybe you could take some time to think it over." Dakota paused a beat, then leaned forward and dropped a hint about the impending revolution, making damn sure the other man wouldn't forget this meeting. "My partners and I are willing to make it worth your while." A cash settlement he hoped Payune would be in dire need of within a matter of days. "And with your involvement, I'm sure King Bertram would no longer stand in our way."
* * *
Kathy walked with Queen Nicole along a stone path. Both women adored flowers, and strolling the castle gardens after a tea had become one of their favorite moments to share. Azaleas, poppies, tulips, irises – Kathy couldn't begin to name them all. There were also bridges to cross, statues to admire, bodies of water rippling with sunlight
"This is like stepping into a painting," Kathy said.
The queen smiled as they passed a lily pond, then stopped to breathe the country air. "And today we are in a Monet."
Kathy turned to look at her friend. She thought Queen Nicole was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. With jet black hair and violet-blue eyes, she could have been a model. Even at fifty-three, she had a face and figure cameras loved. But for Kathy there was no envy, only admiration.
"You have been quiet on this visit," the queen said. "Are you not well?"
"I'm fine. It's just been so long since I've shared a home with my husband." At least, she thought, that was a portion of the truth. She couldn't lead the queen to believe that her personal life was in perfect order, that her supposed reconciliation with Dakota had no flaws. The queen had come to know her too well for such a charade.
"You have not told him yet, have you?"
"About the miscarriage? No. And I'm not sure I can."
The other woman guided her toward a bench overlooking a sweep of irises. "If you want to have a life with him again, then you must."
But I'm only pretending I want a life with him, Kathy thought. So what good would it do to tell him about the baby? They couldn't alter the past. Dakota hadn't been there when she'd needed him. There was nothing either one of them could do that would change that.
"You could forgive him," the queen said as though reading her mind. "There is healing in forgiveness."
Kathy watched a butterfly light upon a flower. "I know." But how could she forgive him when she knew his work would always be more important than their marriage? "We're still attracted to each other." A dangerous attraction, she thought. "I can't think clearly when I'm around him."
No, she couldn't think, but she could feel. And fantasize.
She could still see herself waiting for him on the cliffs. Waiting for him to pull her to the ground, tear her nightgown and cover her body with his. And for one haunting moment last night, she knew he had wanted the same thing – desperate, forbidden lovemaking – a union they would have regretted later.
Queen Nicole sighed. "I have no right to give advice."
Jarred from her wayward thoughts, Kathy turned, then studied her friend's sad expression. "Forgive me for asking, but are the rumors true? Is your marriage troubled?"
"Yes, very troubled. Losing Ivan has put a strain on our relationship. The king refuses to mourn his son. He cannot cope with what Ivan did."
Kathy hadn't been prepared to discuss Prince Ivan, but she could see that the other woman needed to confide in someone – someone she trusted. "Most men don't grieve the way women do. They tend to keep their feelings inside."
Queen Nicole's voice quavered. "But the king is still too hurt and too angry to grieve. And until he forgives Ivan, our lives will never be the same." She lifted her face to the sun as though the warmth would help. "I, too,
was destroyed by what Ivan had done. But he left us a note. He begged for our forgiveness."
Kathy knew Prince Ivan had arranged a car accident that had taken the lives of a neighboring princess and her lover. Plus he'd tried to force the princess's sister, Anna, to marry him and merge their countries. So in remorse and shame, the Asterland prince had committed suicide rather than face his family. "I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could say."
"I grieved for my son when I buried him, and I found it in my heart to forgive him. I ask nothing more of the king."
"I understand."
Together they rose from the bench and walked side by side in companionable silence, the garden offering solace. Kathy had never doubted the queen's love for the king, nor had she suspected her of having an affair with Payune. And now Dakota could put aside his suspicion. What troubled the royal marriage was not another man.
Footsteps sounded on the walk, and a child with a radiant smile appeared. Ten-year-old Prince Eric had slipped through a path of trees, his fretful, red-faced nanny on his heels.
The queen laughed. "He is so full of energy."
And so beautiful, Kathy thought. The young prince had inherited his mother's jet-black hair and easy manner. His skin was tanned from the outdoor activities he enjoyed at his American boarding school, and his eyes were dark like the king's.
Like Dakota's.
Kathy realized Prince Eric looked the way she imagined a child of hers and Dakota's would look. Immediately she thought about the baby she had lost – the little boy or girl who should be toddling beside her.
"Mother, you told me I could visit with Kathy," the boy said.
"Yes, but I did not say you could give Nanny a wild goose chase." The queen cupped her son's cheeks, then whispered. "Nanny is not so young anymore. You must show her the courtesy befitting her age."
"Yes, ma'am," he responded.
Kathy knew the boy wanted to fidget. She couldn't help but smile. Prince Eric glanced over at her with a gleam in his dark eyes. When his mother released him, he came toward her with a proper greeting, and she responded in kind.
The hug that followed made her a little misty-eyed. "I've missed you, young sir."