Cheyenne Dad. Sheri WhiteFeather
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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 his satin-draped arm and explained at what point the rings would be exchanged, Annie piped up. “We don’t have any.”
“I do.” Dakota reached into his pocket and produced a white-gold band set with a marquee-cut diamond and an intricate inlay of semi-precious stones.
Annie studied the ring glinting against his hand. “Is it one of yours?”
He nodded. He’d designed it for her for this day, but he couldn’t tell her that. He doubted she’d be pleased about the secret he and Harold had been keeping. But then Dakota wasn’t about to reveal the role she’d played in his recovery. He would rather die than suffer the mortification of her knowing the truth. Overcoming his paralysis and the impotency that had accompanied it wasn’t something he could discuss with Annie. The loss of his virility, no matter how temporary, had made him feel like less of a man.
Annie leaned in close, drawing his attention back to the ring. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, “but you didn’t have to give me something so extravagant. I didn’t expect a ring at all.”
Her floral scent drifted to his nostrils, reminding him of how long he’d been waiting to bury his face in the fragrance of her hair.
Dakota shrugged and made a fist, pressing the diamond into his palm. “It’s no big deal.”
It was, of course. It hurt that she didn’t want to make love with him. And now he couldn’t help but wish that he’d kept his mouth shut about her other wedding. Richard had cheated on Annie with the same woman that Dakota had been with only months before. Mary had told him how upset Annie had been over that ordeal, how she’d felt as though Dakota had betrayed their friendship by “getting involved with Richard’s old girlfriend.”
Dakota shook his head. His “involvement” had been one stupid night that he’d regretted every day since.
Sheila had been a brazen one. Wearing a skimpy red dress designed to make a man drool, she’d sashayed up to him at that party and tossed her head, spilling golden waves around her shoulders. His immediate thought had been that she’d looked like a harder version of Annie. Blond and luscious, only lacking the inborn grace. But that hadn’t mattered at the time, especially since Annie had been milling around the party with her Joe-college boyfriend.
Sheila made her first move by pressing her hand to Dakota’s forehead. “You’re hot for Richard’s little girlfriend, aren’t you? Burning right up with a fever.”
Dakota’s knees nearly buckled. No one had ever challenged him about his sexual attraction to Annie, the all-consuming ache he couldn’t seem to shake. “Yeah, right. I’ve known her since she was a kid.”
“Well, she’s hardly a kid now,” the blonde purred. “And you get excited just watching her breathe.”
Dakota jerked away. “What the hell do you want?”
Sheila’s painted lips curled into a naughty smile. “To make you forget all about her.”
He should have walked away then. Game playing wasn’t his style, but he wanted nothing more than to get Annie out of his system. Destroy the heat that surged through his blood every time he laid eyes on her.
The night had gone from bad to worse with Richard getting in his face, hissing words that were much too true. “What’s the matter?” the jock had snarled in a quiet, menacing voice, “Are you stuck with my leftovers because you can’t get the real thing?”
Blinded by rage, Dakota had lunged at the other man, knocking him against a wall. Richard had the woman he wanted, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it. Nothing but take Sheila up on her offer. An offer that had made him sick and remorseful the following morning.
Swapping Sheila for Annie hadn’t worked. And in the process he’d humiliated Annie and disgusted Mary and Jill, the women he cared most about.
“Looks to me like you folks are ready.” The minister’s voice boomed in Dakota’s ear, jarring him from his disturbing thoughts.
Ready. Right. To marry a woman who had no intention of making love with him, of forgiving him for his sins. Annie had to suspect how many Sheila Harrises had slithered in and out of his bed. But that was his past, Dakota thought, the type of man he was before the accident.
“Sure,” he said, faking a smile. “We’re ready.”
They took their places quietly, and when Bea began to plunk out a wedding march, brother and sister both turned to view the bride. As her hourglass figure swayed, Dakota’s blood tingled. Annie Winters looked like a goddess: white-blond hair, a flowing white dress and a bouquet of white roses. As unique and pure, he decided, as a freshly fallen snowflake.
She stood beside him and stared