Tycoon Warrior

Dakota smiled. “You’ve always been tuned in to kids. You could have been a teacher.”

Or a mother, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Prince Eric had come into her life soon after the miscarriage, and bonding with the young boy had helped ease the pain of losing her own child. “The queen transferred him to a boarding school that specializes in learning disabilities. He’s doing well now. A determined fifth-grader.”

“It’s hard to believe Prince Ivan came from the same family.”

“I know.” Kathy pictured Prince Ivan. He was Eric’s older brother, a grown man who abused his power and shamed his family. He had also been a menace to the town of Royal, a threat to the Cattleman’s Club. But in the end, a cowardly act had consumed him. Rather than return to Asterland to face his family, the prince had committed suicide. “Ivan is dead now.”

Dakota placed his fork on the table. “But he’s still creating trouble. Or his past deeds are. He’s the one who convinced the king to appoint Payune to the position of Grand Minister. Payune and Ivan were thick as thieves.”

And at one time, the king, clearly blinded by parental love, had intended to abdicate the throne to Ivan. “Prince Eric is nothing like his brother. He will make a fine king someday.”

“That’s good to know. But if we don’t stop Payune, young Eric will never get that chance.” Dakota trapped her gaze, his dark eyes riveting. “I hope to God Payune buys my cover. And yours, too. I’m going to have to convince him that you’re a double agent.”

Kathy tried to look away, but couldn’t. Dakota held her there, caught in his magnetic gaze. She wasn’t able to respond; her mouth had gone dry. She reached for her wine, took a small sip.

His husky voice sounded gentle, low. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I hate doing this to you, but I don’t know how else to reach Payune.”

Sweetheart. Kathy felt a pool of warmth settle deep in her belly. Dakota had used that endearment the first time they’d made love.

Show me what you like, sweetheart. Put my hands—

Oh yes, those hands. Those strong, callused hands—fingertips stroking her breasts, sliding lower, slipping between her thighs. He used to watch her climax, smile and watch, masculine pleasure alight in his dark eyes. Afterward they would kiss, and he would enter her, push himself deep inside, make it happen all over again. Every explosive, glorious sensation.

“Kathy?”

She started. “Yes?”

“Are you all right? Did that upset you?”

Yes, she wanted to say. It unnerves me that I can’t stop thinking about us. That I can recall your touch, your smile, the feel of your mouth covering mine, the weight of your body, the rock of your hips. “No. I came into this mission knowing we would have to fool Payune. I’m prepared to play my part.”

“You’re absolutely sure? You don’t have any second thoughts?”

“I’m ready for this assignment,” she said, struggling to maintain her composure. “Aaron briefed me on all of the details.” Dakota would present himself as a Texas billionaire willing to fund Payune’s revolution for personal gain. And she would be painted as Dakota’s shrewd wife—a woman who used a government job to her best advantage.

“Don’t worry about me,” she added. She wouldn’t allow her thoughts to stray, wouldn’t allow those disturbing images to cloud her mind. Because recalling Dakota’s touch was possibly more dangerous than the mission.

Two

Kathy wore her hair up again, Dakota noticed, but the dry Texas wind had disturbed it, loosening several long, bright strands. She wore casual clothes—jeans and a short-sleeved cotton blouse, her shoulder nearly brushing his.

A bronze statue of Tex Langley, the founder of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, stood like a monument behind them.

They sat on a park bench, but they weren’t lounging on a leisure day. This was business, another meeting place where they wouldn’t be overheard.

Sheikh Ben Rassad and his wife, Jamie, sat on the other side of the bench, a newly married couple looking far too much in love. Dakota resisted the urge to move closer to Kathy, to allow their bodies to touch. Although last night’s dinner hadn’t been a failure, it wasn’t a complete success, either. They weren’t exactly used to each other yet.

Dakota dug a booted heel into the grass. Maybe he should just kiss her and get it over with. Pull her onto his lap. Tug her hair loose. Slam his tongue into her mouth and devour the woman he had married.

After all, she was still technically his wife.

He glanced up at Ben Rassad. Yeah, right. Kiss Kathy now, here at the park, in front of his happily married friend. What the hell was he trying to prove? That he was an egotistical, envious idiot?

Dakota lifted a bottle of water and brought it to his lips, wetting his mouth and cooling his thoughts. Strange how things had worked out for Ben. The sheikh had been assigned to watch over Jamie when she needed protection, then ended up falling for her in the process. The feisty young woman had originally been a mail-order bride for Albert Payune, a union arranged by Jamie’s father and Payune himself.

Luckily, Payune had backed out of the deal and never pursued Jamie any further. Which, in turn, had prompted this meeting—second-guessing Payune’s actions—the man Dakota intended to take down.

“So, do either one of you have any idea why Payune had advertised for an American wife?” he asked, dividing his gaze between the other couple.

Jamie shook her head. “No, but we’ve talked about it. Tossed ideas back and forth.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“Vanity, perhaps,” Ben said. “Payune may have desired a young wife to boost his ego. Texas women are renowned for their beauty.” He reached for Jamie’s hand and held it lightly. “But there is also the possibility of revenge. Payune might blame the town of Royal for Ivan’s suicide, and he planned to take one of our women as payment.”

Dakota mulled over Ben’s words, deciding anything was possible where Payune was concerned.

“I tend to think Sheikh Rassad was right the first time,” Kathy said. “That Payune’s ego was involved.”

“Really?” When Dakota turned toward her, his hand brushed hers—an accidental touch that sent an electrical charge straight to his heart. He forced himself to concentrate on the discussion, but failed miserably. He noticed Kathy’s hand was bare. She wore no rings. The wedding band he’d placed on her finger was gone.

Dakota looked over at Ben and Jamie. Both sat patiently as though waiting for Kathy to expound on her theory. Apparently he was the only one losing his train of thought. Damn it. He knew better than to allow his heart to get tangled up in this mission. Kathy had left him, and that was that.

Tightening his jaw, he turned toward her again. “So you think Payune wanted an American wife to make himself look good?”

She nodded. “It would enhance his public image in Asterland. Queen Nicole is well received in her country. And since she is part American, Payune may have been trying to find a wife he considered comparable to her.” She shifted her gaze to Ben. “A beautiful Texan, just as Sheikh Rassad pointed out.”

Dakota frowned. “If that’s the case, then why did Payune let Jamie go? My contact in Asterland says he’s no longer pursuing a wife, American or otherwise.”

Kathy smoothed the wind-blown strands of her hair. “I don’t know. But I’ve always had the feeling that Payune is enamored of Queen Nicole. Of course she’s madly in love with her husband. She isn’t the kind of woman to have an affair, and I’m sure Payune knows that.”

“But he wants her.” And in Dakota’s opinion that made Albert Payune even more dangerous. Could there be an assassination plot brewing? If the king were killed during the revolution, Queen Nicole would be left a widow, free to accept Payune’s affection. And if Payune controlled the queen and Prince Eric, then, in a sense, he would control Asterland, too.

Dakota figured Payune had three options: overthrow the Asterland government through a revolution, dispose of the entire royal family or kill the king and marry Queen Nicole.

But how could Payune possibly think the queen would turn to him? If she loved her husband, she wouldn’t embrace the man who had assassinated him.

Or would she? Was Kathy wrong about Queen Nicole? Maybe the queen wasn’t as madly in love as she claimed to be.

Wives, it seemed, changed their minds about such matters. Dakota knew firsthand that love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

They were both experienced flyers—more than experienced. Kathy had lived abroad most of her life, and Dakota was a pilot, a man who belonged to the sky. But not today. Although they rode on a private, luxurious jet owned by a prominent member of the Cattleman’s Club, they were anything but relaxed.

The pilot, thank God, was another retired air force officer, someone Dakota trusted implicitly. Flying to Asterland with Kathy was difficult enough, and the last thing Dakota needed to concern himself with was the competency of their pilot.

Kathy sat across from him in a cushioned chair. The jet offered an upscale, home-like setting, a penthouse apartment in the sky. Kathy fit right in. Dakota supposed he did, too—on the outside at least. He’d been born into money, even if he was the bastard son of a hard-nosed land baron, a man who’d left him a sizable inheritance. Dakota didn’t fashion himself after his father, but he’d done his damnedest to earn the older man’s respect.

Kathy paged through a magazine. It wasn’t difficult to assess that she wasn’t absorbed in its contents. Her mind was elsewhere. And rightly so, Dakota supposed. This mission had sucked both of them in, drawing them into an imminent vacuum.