Billionaire Bridegroom

The hopelessness in her voice touched his heart—and made him a little uneasy. The word “marriage” always had that effect on Forrest. He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know, Becky. I suppose you will, if you want to.”

She turned her gaze to the pasture, squinting hard, as if in doing so she might be able to see into the future. “I don’t think I will,” she murmured after a long moment. “All the guys just think of me as one of them, never as a female.” She choked back a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. “I can see it now. Thirty years old, a dried-up old maid and still working the Rusty Corral all by myself.”

Forrest dug his boot heels in the heat-dried grass, bringing himself alongside her. He looped an arm around her shoulders, and hugged her to his side. “Aw, now, Becky. It’s not as bad as all that.”

“No,” she said miserably, “it’s worse.”

Forrest heard the defeat in her voice, as well as the loneliness. “Tell you what, Becky,” he offered. “If you’re not married by your thirtieth birthday, hell, I’ll marry you.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “Do you mean it?”

“Damn straight.” He pecked a kiss on her cheek, then scooted back against the trailer, dipping the bnm of his hat low over his eyes again. “Of course, by the time you turn thirty, you’ll probably be married and have a litter of snot-nosed kids hanging onto your belt loops.”

Or at least he hoped she did. Forrest Cunningham was a man whose word was as good as law...but he sure as hell wasn’t planning on getting married. Even the thought of marriage and spending the rest of his life saddled with one woman made him shudder in revulsion.

One

Royal, Texas 1999

West Texas.

Damn if it wasn’t the prettiest sight in the whole universe. And Forrest Cunningham should know. Over the years, his travels in the military and those as head of his family’s cattle empire had provided him with the opportunity to see a good portion of the world.

But considering how, at the moment, his view of West Texas was limited to the interior of the Royal Diner with its smoke-stained walls, cracked vinyl-topped bar stools, chipped Formica-topped tables and a beat-up jukebox that had been sitting in the same spot since the Fifties...well, even thinking West Texas was the prettiest sight in the world was probably grounds enough to commit a man.

But, then, Forrest was already questioning his sanity.

It had all started a little over two weeks ago while he and several other members of the exclusive Texas Cattleman’s Club had been on a secret mission in Europe to rescue a princess and her young son.

He snorted at the reminder of the woman whose rescue seemed to be at the core of his current level of discontent. A princess for God’s sake. He glanced in the direction of the counter where the woman in question worked.

Beautiful. That was the only word to describe Anna von Oberland. A mane of thick blond hair. Dark green eyes. A figure that would make any man stand up at attention. Hell, even with an apron tied around her waist she managed to look regal.

A princess.

He snorted again and gave his head a shake as he turned his gaze to the smudged window and the view of the Royal Diner’s parking lot where the wind was thickening the air with sand. A princess in Royal, Texas. Who’d have ever thought? But she was there. And she was a princess. Forrest could attest to both because he’d played a part in snatching her away from the squirrely prince who had wanted to force her into a marriage after her sister’s tragic death so that he could gain control of her estate and merge their kingdoms.

The rescue mission—code-named Alpha—had been the brainchild of Gregory Hunt. Gregory’s brother Blake and Sterling Churchill had made up the rest of the team. Hank Langley had footed the bill for the mission, though Forrest knew damn good and well Hank would have preferred to have been in on the action, rather than staying home and overseeing the operation from the comfort and safety of his office above the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

The thought of his old friend and owner of the private men’s club plowed a deeper row of discontent on Forrest’s brow. Hank Langley was one of his oldest friends and the most eligible bachelor in Royal...or at least he had been. Now Hank was a married man.

And Sterling, too. Who would have ever thought Sterling would walk down that long aisle again? Not after his first marriage had gone sour on him. But he had. And now he had a wife, same as Hank, and seemed as happy as a dog with a new bone. And he was going to be a daddy before long.

Sterling a daddy...

Forrest felt the sense of desolation digging its way deeper inside of him and tried to rope it in before he sunk into a blue funk so deep he couldn’t crawl out. Hell, he told himself, he had just turned thirty-five, was in the prime of his life, had more money than he could shake a stick at, and was the owner of the biggest ranch in West Texas. What did he have to feel blue about?

His shoulders slumped in despair. He didn’t need a psychologist to figure out the answer to that question. He’d already spent hours cogitating on the problem himself and he’d finally come up with the answer.

He needed a wife.

And children.

What was the use of having an empire if a man didn’t have somebody to pass it on to? Someone to carry on the Cunningham name?

The problem was there wasn’t a woman in the entire county whom he wanted to marry. He’d already made a list of all the eligible females he knew, and one-by-one had crossed through their names, ruling them out as possible candidates for the position of the future Mrs. Forrest Cunningham.

“Would you like more coffee?”

Forrest whipped his head around to find Anna standing beside his booth. She held up the coffeepot in silent invitation, its chipped and scarred handle a startling contrast to the graceful and delicate fingers curled around it. He wondered, not for the first time, if the Royal Diner was the best place to try to hide a royal princess. Anna von Oberland—dubbed Annie Grace by the members of the Alpha team in an effort to hide her true identity—stuck out like a rose in a patch of grease wood. He reared back, giving her room, and gestured toward his cup. “Yeah, you can warm it up for me.”

She leaned over to pour and Forrest noticed that her hand shook a bit. Before he could dodge the hot steaming brew that sloshed over the cup’s rim, it splattered across his lap, soaking quickly through his jeans and scalding his flesh.

Seeing what she’d done, Anna cried, “Oh, no!” and whipped a dish towel from the waistband of her apron and began dabbing frantically at the stain. Forrest sucked in a raw breath as her fingers moved dangerously close to his privates. He quickly closed his hand over hers.

“Keep that up and you’re liable to warm up more than just my coffee.”

She snapped her gaze to his. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth formed a perfect O as his meaning slowly registered. Quickly she snatched her hand from his and fisted it behind her back. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, dropping her gaze in embarrassment.

Damn, but she was pretty, Forrest thought as he watched her cheeks turn an engaging shade of pink. Maybe... He quickly squelched the idea. Though nothing had been said, he was sure that there was still something between Anna and his buddy Greg Hunt. After all, it was Greg who Anna had contacted for help, and it was Greg who had headed up the mission to rescue her. And Forrest Cunningham wasn’t the kind of man to trespass on another man’s territory.

He shot her a grin, hoping to put her at ease as he reached for a napkin to finish the job she’d started. “No damage done.”

She gave a cautious look around, then eased closer. “Forrest? I was wondering...have you heard anything from Blake?”

The worry in her voice was obvious and explained the trembling in her hands. He supposed he’d be worried, too, if he was in her shoes. Blake was the last leg of the Alpha mission, and the one assigned to deliver Anna’s niece and nephew to her in Royal.

A bachelor traveling halfway around the world with two babies in tow.

Forrest bit back a grin. He’d give anything to be a fly on the wall right now, so he could see Blake Hunt in the role of a nanny. Changing diapers, singing lullabies. Somehow the picture just didn’t fit. But if anybody could do it, Blake could, he reminded himself. Blake was nothing if he wasn’t resourceful.

Forrest gave Anna an encouraging smile. “Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours about Blake. He’ll get ‘em here safely. You’ll see.”

“It isn’t that I don’t trust him,” she said uneasily. She caught her lower lip between her teeth again. “It’s just that...well, being a single man, I doubt he knows very much about caring for infants.”

Forrest shot her a wink. “That’s what you think. Before he left on the mission, Blake spent days at the library reading every book they had on the subject. He even interviewed ladies around town on how to properly care for an infant. Created quite a stir with his questions, too,” he added, chuckling.

Anna inhaled deeply, then managed a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.” She leaned to give his hand a grateful pat. “Thank you, Forrest. For everything,” she added in a whisper, before turning away.

Forrest watched her cross back to the bar, his eyes going unerringly to the seductive sway of her hips. He gave his head a shake and forced his gaze back to the window. Don’t even think it, he warned himself. Even if he didn’t suspect that Greg had a prior claim on the princess, he knew that Anna wasn’t the woman for him.

So who is? he asked himself, his frustration returning with a force stronger than the wind outside that was currently sandblasting his truck in the diner’s parking lot. He’d already ruled out every eligible woman within a three hundred mile radius of Royal. There wasn’t a single woman left with whom he’d want to share his name, much less his life.

Frowning, he glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was almost two. He had promised to meet Becky at twothirty and inspect a mare that he was having delivered to her ranch.

He started to rise, then slowly sank back down in the booth, his eyes going wide. “Rebecca Lee Sullivan,” he whispered under his breath. Why hadn’t he thought of Becky before now?

Becky as his wife. He toyed with the idea for a moment, weighing the possibilities. She’d lived next door to him for as long as he could remember and was as good a friend as a man could ask for. She liked ranching and horses and wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, unlike most of the women he knew. She wasn’t hard to look at, was self-reliant, and could rope and ride as well as any man, himself included.