Kitabı oxu: «The Kincaids: Private Mergers: One Dance with the Sheikh»

The Kincaids Collection

THE KINCAIDS: SOUTHERN SEDUCTION

March 2013

THE KINCAIDS: NEW MONEY

April 2013

THE KINCAIDS: PRIVATE MERGERS

May 2013

The
Kincaids
Private Mergers
New money. New passions. Old secrets.
Two passionate reads from bestselling authors
Tessa Radley and Day Leclaire
One Dance
with the Sheikh
Tessa Radley
A Very
Private Merger
Day Leclaire

www.millsandboon.co.uk

One Dance with the Sheikh

About the Author

TESSA RADLEY loves travelling, reading and watching the world around her. As a teen Tessa wanted to be an intrepid foreign correspondent. But after completing a bachelor of arts degree and marrying her sweetheart, she became fascinated by law and ended up studying further and practising as a lawyer in a city firm. A six-month break spent travelling through Australia with her family reawakened the yen to write. And life as a writer suits her perfectly—travelling and reading count as research and as for analysing the world … well, she can think ‘what if?’ all day long. When she’s not reading, travelling or thinking about writing, she’s spending time with her husband, her two sons or her zany and wonderful friends. You can contact Tessa through her website, www.tessaradley.com.

Dear Reader,

One Dance with the Sheikh will be on the shelves in May, yet I’m writing this letter to you as Christmas fast approaches. Decorations are up in the malls and Christmas trees decked with coloured lights are appearing in homes. It’s the season for friends and family.

Dynastic series like The Kincaids are always special. They’re about bonds. Family. Friendship. Love. Often sad and bad things happen—in this case a father has been murdered. There are misunderstandings and betrayals—turbulent and troubled times—yet couples still manage to fall in love, the family grows closer and the generations will continue.

There are good times. There are tough times. Just like in real life.

I’ve just finished re-reading a Christmas story written by my friend Sandra Hyatt, in whose memory this story is dedicated, where she said, ‘Whatever your religious persuasion, it never hurts to stop and count your blessings and the gifts in your life.’

That’s what I’m determined to do this Christmas—and not only this Christmas … I’m going to spend all of this year counting my blessings and the gifts in my life.

So, even though Christmas will be long past by the time you pick up One Dance with the Sheikh, I do hope you will join me in thinking about the blessings and gifts in your life—sometimes amidst turbulent and troubled times. And I’ll be right there with you.

Please visit my website at www.tessaradley.com or friend me on Facebook.

With love,

Tessa Radley

In Loving Memory of Sandra Hyatt

Wise woman, Best Friend and Awesome writer!

One

Who was she?

Dark red hair hung down her back, and as she shifted, the color changed like tongues of fire. Her tall, slender body was encased in a shimmering silvery grey gown that clung to her like moonlight on a dark night.

Rakin Whitcomb Abdellah had arrived at the giant white gazebo in the garden in front of the house where the guests were gathered in time to see the bride and groom link hands in front of the celebrant. It had surprised him that it had taken the usually responsible Eli only a matter of weeks to set aside the caution of a lifetime and to fall head over heels in love with his bride. But what had astonished Rakin more was the fact that Eli was marrying a Kincaid at all—since, less than a month ago, Kara’s own sister had jilted Eli. Yet, once his gaze settled on the wedding group, it was the maid of honor with her glorious hair and eye-catching beauty who captured Rakin’s attention as she moved forward to take the bouquet of red roses from the bride.

This could only be Laurel Kincaid, the woman who’d jilted his best friend Eli less than a month before their wedding day.

The woman who Eli had suggested could be the solution to all Rakin’s problems.

A child, no more than three or four years old, strutted forward bearing a fat cushion. Rakin squinted and made out the two rings perched on top. Laurel stepped forward and held out a hand to guide him, but he tugged away, clearly reluctant to stand beside two flower girls. Instead he barreled his way between Eli and his bride Kara Kincaid, eliciting both chuckles and sighs as he stole hearts.

The maid of honor was scanning the guests.

Above the bouquet of red roses, her eyes were green. The brightest emerald Rakin had ever seen. Unexpectedly, her gaze landed on him. Time stopped. The murmurs around him, the sound of Kara saying her vows, the heady fragrance of the Southern blooms all faded from Rakin’s consciousness. There was only … her.

Then she glanced away.

And the tension that had gripped him slowly eased.

Eli had warned him that his ex-fiancée was a beauty, yet Rakin hadn’t been prepared for his body’s reaction to her as their eyes had locked. Lust. Becoming romantically entangled with her was not an option. For starters, she was a Charleston Kincaid—not some nymphet with pleasure on her mind. And, if he took Eli’s advice, the proposal he intended to put to her had everything to do with business, and nothing to do with pleasure.

Despite the gorgeous green-eyed, auburn-haired wrapping, Laurel Kincaid had Do Not Touch written all over her.

Yet even so, Rakin could scarcely wait for the ceremony to end, for the moment when he congratulated the newlyweds—and Eli introduced him to the maid of honor. Then he would decide whether she would fit in with his plans.

The rich scent of jasmine and gardenia announced that summer had arrived in the South.

Her sister’s wedding was being held at the Kincaid family home, a two-and-a-half story elaborately embellished federal mansion where Laurel had grown up. The imposing facade flanked by decorative balconies, each with a pagoda roof, had always been home to Laurel and her siblings.

But at the moment she was less concerned with the details of the wedding venue than the identity of one tall dark and handsome stranger. Laurel had a pretty good idea of the identities of all the guests at her sister’s wedding; after all, Kara had originally run all the guests’ names past her when this was supposed to have been her own wedding.

And the stranger with the dark, exotic good looks hadn’t been on it.

So where did Kara know him from? And why had her sister never mentioned him before?

If she didn’t quit shooting surreptitious glances at the man her sisters would have her married off to him in an instant. And she wasn’t interested in him; she simply wanted to know who he was.

Laurel averted her gaze and watched as Eli took Kara’s hands in his, the gold of their newly donned wedding rings glinting in the late afternoon sun. Unexpectedly her throat tightened.

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to cry!

She’d never been the type to gush tears at weddings…. She always smiled and said the right thing at the right time. So why was she suddenly feeling like this? This wedding was a joyous occasion, not a time to shed tears.

And heaven knew what interpretation people would put on it if she did start to cry. She scanned the enormous number of guests all dressed up and smiling. Laurel could think of at least one or two who would put the worst possible slant on it. Then the damage would be done, and rumors would be rife around the city that she was heartbroken about Kara marrying Eli—after she had broken off her own engagement to him.

Laurel was utterly delighted for them both. She was relieved she wasn’t marrying Eli.

But no one would believe that if she started to weep.

Get a grip.

Her eyes fell onto her mother.

Now there was reason to cry. Elizabeth Kincaid was a legendary Southern beauty. Everyone said she’d have been crowned Miss South Carolina, if she’d ever entered—but soft-spoken, eternally elegant Elizabeth had too much class to enter beauty pageants. Instead, after her family had fallen on hard times, she’d married Reginald Kincaid and become one of the most accomplished hostesses in Charleston and brought cachet to the nouveau riche Kincaid name.

She was smiling as she watched Kara and Eli tie the knot.

Yet the mother of the bride almost hadn’t made it to the wedding. She’d been arrested for killing her husband. The police had believed they’d had enough evidence to make a case. In the past months, in the very darkest moments, Laurel had worried that her mother might actually be convicted of her father’s murder.

But her mother had been cleared.

And now suspicion for her father’s death rested on the brooding half brother Laurel and her siblings had learned about at her father’s funeral. Laurel would never forget that day—or the shock that her father had been living a secret double life for decades.

Now Jack Sinclair sat beside his mother, Angela Sinclair. Her father’s mistress—and life-long love.

On Angela’s other side sat her other son. The Sinclairs had been invited here today because Elizabeth Kincaid believed in always doing the Right Thing—even when it cost her dearly. The contrast between the half brothers was stark. Alan had none of Jack’s dark moodiness. Blond and light, he was like the sun bursting through his half brother’s dark thunder cloud.

Laurel decided she was becoming fanciful.

“You may kiss the bride,” the celebrant was saying.

Eli bent forward, a head taller than his bride, and Laurel found herself looking away to give the couple a moment of privacy. Of course, she looked straight into a pair of dark eyes.

The generously proportioned bedrooms that Laurel, Kara and Lily had once occupied on the second floor of the historic federal mansion had been transformed into an impromptu bridal dressing-room wing for the wedding day. Pausing just inside the doorway of Kara’s childhood room, Laurel took in the leftover feminine paraphernalia scattered around the room.

Open shoe boxes spilled tissue paper over the carpet. A posy abandoned by one of the flower girls lay on the bed. The fine lace veil that Kara had worn for the ceremony was already carefully draped over a chair back. On the dresser, between cut-glass perfume bottles, were four sparkling tulip glasses, and a bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket beside the dresser. A good way to calm the bride’s nerves while she freshened up, Laurel decided.

Amidst the mayhem, Kara stood in front of a cheval mirror examining the hem of her wedding dress critically. “I haven’t torn a hole in the hem, have I, Laurel?”

Moving forward, Laurel squinted at the delicately scalloped edge that Kara was holding up. “Not that I can see.”

“Thank heavens.” Relief filled her younger sister’s voice as she let the beautiful white fabric drop. “I thought I might have put a heel through it when I came back down the aisle.”

“Relax. It’s all fine.” Laurel scanned her sister’s face. Kara’s skin glowed, needing no added artifice. The shimmer of eye shadow accentuated her green eyes, but her lips had lost the gloss they’d worn before the ceremony. Laurel’s mouth quirked up. “You make a beautiful bride, Mrs. Houghton—even without touching up the gloss that your groom kissed off.”

It was true. Kara’s radiance had given her the kind of beauty that came from inner happiness. Taking care not to crush the delicate wedding dress, Laurel gave her sister a tentative hug. But Kara had no such scruples and flung her arms around Laurel.

“Thank you, oh, thank you, for jilting Eli!”

Laurel looked into eyes almost the same green as her own, eyes they’d inherited from their mother. “Believe me, if I’d married your groom it would have been the biggest mistake of both our lives.”

It had been one thing to drift into an engagement with Eli, but once the time to plan the wedding had arrived, Laurel had been distressed to discover her heart wasn’t in it.

Instead of daydreaming about wedded bliss, she’d found herself dwelling on how static her life had become.

How predictable.

How boring.

And what it would take to get a life. To her discomfort, writing out lists of wedding guests who’d accepted their invitations to the big day had not even featured.

That was when Laurel had created the How to Get a Life List.

Jilt Eli. Item No. 1 on the List, as she’d started thinking of it, had looked so stark, so cruel when she’d stared at the two words topping the otherwise blank piece of paper, that she hadn’t known if she was capable of breaking off her engagement to Eli.

His feelings would be hurt. Her family would be devastated. But writing it down had brought such a sense of catharsis that Laurel had known she’d had no other choice.

She and Eli were simply not meant to be.

To spare his feelings, she’d told him she couldn’t marry him until the upheaval in her life—her father’s murder, the shocking discovery of his other family and the anguish of her mother’s arrest—had settled down. But the overwhelming relief in Eli’s eyes brought home the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one who wanted out.

Almost a month had passed since she’d jilted Eli. Today her ex-fiancé was celebrating the happiness he’d found—with her sister. Eli had gotten himself a life.

However, until putting on Item No. 2—red-lipstick—this morning during the final preparations, she had done nothing more about tackling the rest of the List. Breaking the strictures of a lifetime was proving to be daunting. Despite the List which she carried in her purse as a constant prod to action.

That had to change, she had to start living. Really living.

Like that electric moment during the ceremony when she’d met a pair of dark eyes and she’d been jolted by a surge of energy. That had been living.

Extricating herself from her sister’s arms, Laurel lifted the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and filled two of the flutes, then passed one to Kara.

She raised her glass in a toast. “Be happy.”

“Oh, I am. Today is the happiest day of my life.”

Her sister sparkled like a fairytale princess.

Laurel couldn’t stop a stab of envy. She took a quick gulp of champagne before setting it down.

“Eli and I had always been such good friends, and I think we both hoped that would be enough—I know I did. But it wasn’t. We lacked that special connection that you two have.” They hadn’t even shared the kind of physical attraction that had blasted through her after one lingering look from a stranger.

“It’s love. Real love. He’s my soul mate. I’m incredibly fortunate.” Kara had gone all dreamy-eyed. Then her gaze sharpened. “How funny that you’re the one Eli spent the most time with while we were growing up—”

“That’s because we were the same age—in the same year at school and invited to the same social functions,” Laurel pointed out.

“—But you’ve never met his other close friend.”

“Rakin Abdellah?” Laurel had heard plenty about the grandson of a Middle-Eastern prince with whom Eli had become close friends at Harvard. “Such a pity he didn’t make it to the wedding.”

“He’s here!” Kara put her glass down beside Laurel’s, then slid onto the stool in front of the dresser. She picked up a wide-toothed comb. “Eli introduced us when he came up to congratulate us after the ceremony.”

Laurel hesitated in the act of taking the comb from her sister. Was it possible….?

“Where was I?”

“It must’ve been when Flynn swatted the flower girls with the ring cushion and you went after him before he caused more chaos.”

Waving the comb in the air, Laurel spread her hands. “How typical! I always miss the man. Every time Eli caught up with him when Rakin visited on business, I had something else going on. Maybe we’re just never destined to meet.” But she couldn’t stop wondering whether the tall, lean man responsible for that shock of awareness during the ceremony could possibly be Eli’s best friend.

“What was he wearing?” she asked Kara urgently.

“Who?”

“Rakin!” Laurel shook her head at her sister. “The man you were telling me about.”

“I don’t know—the only man whose clothes I’m focused on today is Eli.”

Laurel laughed at her sister’s goofy expression. Dismissing the hunk, she started to smooth Kara’s hair where the veil had been fastened earlier. “Speaking of Eli, you’d better re-apply your lipstick,” she told her sister.

Kara slanted her a wicked look via the mirror. “What’s the point? It will only get kissed off again.” Then her gaze narrowed. “Laurel, you’re wearing red lipstick!”

Laurel shot her younger sister an indulgent look. “If you’ve only just noticed it can’t be such a big deal.”

“You’ve decided to go ahead with your plan to stop playing it safe!” Kara had stilled. “I know you told me you were going to spread your wings and work on being a bit more uninhibited, but I hadn’t seen any more signs of it since I warned you to take care—and not to go too crazy.”

“Can you see me, Miss Responsibility, going crazy?” asked Laurel with a light laugh.

“Okay, I shouldn’t have told you to be careful—I’ve been wishing I never said anything. You should have some fun. What about getting Eli to introduce you to Rakin?”

“Don’t you dare!” To stop her too observant sister from interfering, Laurel said, “Did you notice how protective Cutter’s been of Mom today?”

“I think everyone did. He didn’t leave her side.”

“I think Cutter will be good for her—he seems to genuinely love her.” Laurel patted the final wayward strands in place and stood back to admire Kara’s hair. To make sure it held, she added the lightest spritz of hair spray. “And he risked a storm of scandal by coming forward to tell the police that Mom had spent the night of Dad’s murder with him. That’s what got her out on bail.”

“I offered to plan a small wedding for Mom—elegant and discreet. But Mom was dead against it. She doesn’t think they can get married until a decent time of mourning Dad has passed—”

“That’s ridiculous.” Just the idea that her mother was letting what people thought rule her life caused Laurel to see red. “Mom must do what makes her happy.”

“I agree Mom deserves a little happiness after discovering the sordid details of Dad’s secret life, and if marrying Cutter gives her that, I’ll be his biggest fan.” Kara swiveled around on the stool and examined Laurel. “And I didn’t notice your lip color because I was too busy getting married.” She clearly wasn’t about to let Laurel off the hook. “But now I’ve noticed. I’m interested—I want to know what you’re planning to do next.”

Laurel could feel herself coloring. She wasn’t even sure what she was going to do next herself. Confessing to the existence of the List, and worse, to imagining living out some mind-boggling fantasies—even to her sister—was way too much to bear.

“It’s hardly world changing,” she said off-handedly, thinking about her frivolous desire to eat ice cream in bed.

But that still left more….

Item No. 5, Gamble all night.

Item No. 6, Travel to exotic lands.

Okay, maybe they were a little world changing….

Tilting her head to one side, Kara said, “Hmm, you’ve never worn red lipstick—you always say it’s too obvious—so that’s already a pretty big change.”

Red lips clashed with her auburn hair. It was trashy. And trashy was a sin. Leaning past Kara to avoid her sister’s gaze, Laurel pretended to inspect her lips in the dresser mirror. There were no smudges—nor likely to be, unless she found someone to kiss.

Which brought her back to How to Get a Life.

Item No. 3 on the list was Flirt with a stranger. Her cheeks grew hot. Unlike most Southern women Laurel was a rookie in the art of flirting. Since entering her teens, she’d only had to look at a male to have him cross the room to meet her. Sometimes she’d hated the kind of attention her features brought. To deal with it, she’d cultivated a polite manner with no hint of flirtatiousness. The facade had served her equally well in her dealings as public relations director of the Kincaid Group. So why on earth was she adding an item like Flirt with a stranger?

Maybe she should’ve made that Kiss a stranger. The renegade thought startled her.

“You’re blushing. Is it a man? Is that the reason for the red lips?” Kara’s voice broke into Laurel’s musings. “Is that the reason you won’t let me ask Eli to introduce you to Rakin?”

“No man,” Laurel denied, wishing that her complexion didn’t color quite so dramatically. “The red lips are for me alone.”

For one mad moment she was tempted to tell Kara all about the List. Then she cringed and the impulse passed.

Telling Kara would be insane. And Kara would start fretting again about Laurel exposing herself to danger—and the last thing Laurel wanted was to cause her sister to worry on her wedding day.

She drained the last of the champagne, then set her glass back down on the dresser. She caught another glimpse of her lips in the mirror above the dresser.

What would it be like to kiss the gorgeous dark-haired man from the church?

The shocking visual of crushed red lips sent a frisson of heat coursing through her.

Laurel came to her senses. What if he turned out to be Eli’s friend? How trashy would that be? She’d always been the good eldest sister … the one to do as she was told. To study hard for excellent grades. To obey her curfew. She’d always set an example for her sisters to follow. No mini skirts. No ear studs and torn jeans. No shameless behavior with boys. No wild flings.

No trashy makeup …

She turned away from the mirror, intending to say something light and funny to her sister.

Only to find Kara had risen to her feet and was still watching her.

“I have to admit red suits you, Laurel. Makes you look like a movie star. Glamorous. Sexy. You always wear beiges and creams. I take back all my cautions, you should break out more often.”

Laurel’s heart lightened as she followed her sister to the door. “Careful! I might take that as permission to do something reckless.”

Kara halted in the doorway, looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Why not? Start today. No time like the present.”

Now? Tonight? Laurel’s hands turned cold and clammy as Kara vanished out of sight with a whisper of French fabric.

It was one thing to talk about loosening up a little; it was another thing altogether to actually do it and let go. The sense of being poised on the edge of a precipice swept Laurel.

Should she take that first step into the unknown and walk on the wild side? Or should she stay in her safe world and risk never feeling quite satisfied?

The answer came quickly, so quickly it took her aback. She was tired of missing out. She wanted to feel more of that pulsing energy that she’d experienced earlier. That flutter of rebellion brought a surge of illicit pleasure.

Laurel drew a deep breath and felt her lungs fill, and resolve spread through her. Kara was right—there was no time like the present. She headed for the door.

Tonight, she’d flirt with a stranger.

Two

In the elegant, embellished salon downstairs, a twelve-piece jazz ensemble was playing blues, a smoky, elegant sound. Perfect for what had to be one of the high-society weddings of the year.

Laurel hummed and did a little dance step in Kara’s wake and almost skipped into Alan Sinclair, who’d materialized in front of them, holding two glasses brimming with pale, bubbling gold wine. By some miracle he managed to keep the glasses upright, while Laurel apologized effusively.

“Major catastrophe averted,” he joked.

All three of them laughed.

“These were intended for you, beautiful ladies.” Alan held out the brimming glasses, his hazel eyes alight with good humor.

“Only a sip for me. I’m going to need my wits about me—I need to make sure I get all the guests’ names right,” said Kara with a gracious smile.

Laurel took the remaining glass. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t get a chance earlier to give you my very best wishes,” Alan told Kara. “Eli is a lucky man.”

“Why, thank you, Alan.” Kara beamed at him. “I certainly hope you meet the woman of your dreams soon—maybe even tonight.”

Alan laughed. “I can live in hope. But maybe we should wait a while—give you time for a honeymoon—before handing you another wedding to plan.”

“I’d be thrilled to do another wedding. And, for once, that’s not the businesswoman in me talking. I’m so happy, I’m ready to marry everyone off.”

“He’s a nice man,” Laurel observed as they walked away, holding their glasses.

“Thoughtful, too,” Kara agreed. “He’ll make some lucky woman a good husband.”

They’d reached the bridal table by now, and Eli leapt up to welcome his bride, his eyes warm and devoted as he seated her.

Feeling a bit like a third wheel, Laurel slipped into the vacant seat beside her mother and set her glass down on the white damask linen sprinkled with pink and crimson rose petals. A waiter appeared to fill it up.

“Where’s Cutter?” Laurel asked her mother, aware that she was sitting in his seat. The whole world had paired up—even her mother.

Everyone except her.

A wave of loneliness swept her; then she shook it off. All the more reason to follow the List and find a stranger to flirt with—and where better than a wedding?

“He spotted Harold Parsons and Mr. Larrimore and went over to greet them.” Elizabeth fluttered a hand in the direction of the bar. Following where her mother indicated, Laurel could see the white-haired lawyer talking to the head of Larrimore Industries, which had recently begun doing business with The Kincaid Group, making up a little of the losses TKG had suffered when several customers defected to Carolina Shipping. Why, only this week her brother Matthew, TKG’s director of new business, had heard rumblings that Jack Sinclair was trying to outbid them on an important shipping contract through backdoor channels.

Speak of the devil.

Jack Sinclair had pulled out a chair to seat himself at a table right on the edge of the dance floor. How boldly arrogant. He was behaving like he owned the Kincaid mansion. Laurel supposed inheriting forty-five percent of the stock in The Kincaid Group was responsible for some of that arrogance. She hadn’t managed to get a handle on Jack yet. Dark, unsmiling and perpetually brooding, he made her a little uneasy. He’d certainly caused TKG enough headaches in the past few months to last a lifetime.

Then Laurel caught a sight of the smooth blond hair of his mother, Angela, seated beyond him. Something his mother said caused a ferocious scowl to mar Jack’s features. Laurel shivered at the sight of his displeasure.

Why had her father’s firstborn son bothered to come to the wedding, if he intended to sit there and glare? Was he only here today to fool the paparazzi into thinking he was an accepted part of the Kincaid family? Or were her siblings correct? Did Jack fear that by staying away he’d heighten the suspicion already surrounding him? Laurel didn’t want to consider the possibility that her father had been shot in the head by his firstborn son…. It was too horrible.

She refused to allow Jack’s presence to ruin the celebratory mood tonight. The pall that had hung over the family for months had finally lifted. Laurel intended to enjoy the occasion … and make sure her mom did, too.

Laurel caught Elizabeth’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t tell you how glad I am not only that you’re here at the wedding but that you’ve been cleared of all those ridiculous charges. It’s the best wedding gift Kara and Eli could ever have received.”

“Today hasn’t been easy,” her mother confessed. “All the speculation. I’m sure there are people here this evening who still believe I killed your father. And everyone is so curious about Cutter—it’s difficult for him, too.”

Yet, in the way that was so typical of Southern society matriarchs, none of her mother’s discomfort showed. Elizabeth’s face was serene, her short, auburn hair with the elegant grey highlights was immaculate, the strain of the past four turbulent months carefully masked. Only the reserve in her green eyes hinted at the anguish she’d been through.

“You deserve some happiness.” Laurel echoed Kara’s words from earlier. Letting go of her mother’s hand she reached for the glass Alan had given her. “And if Cutter makes you happy you shouldn’t let what others think spoil that. Let’s drink to happier tomorrows.”

Elizabeth took a tiny sip, and then set her own glass down. “I do wish the police would hurry up and finalize the investigation. Not knowing who killed your father …” Her voice trailed away.

Her brothers RJ and Matt had some strong opinions about who might have killed her father. But now wasn’t the right time to share them with her mother.

“I’ll call Detective McDonough tomorrow to arrange a meeting for later in the week to find out if there has been any progress,” promised Laurel. She shot the brooding interloper at the edge of the dance floor a surreptitious look. With luck, the police might finally have gathered enough evidence to toss Jack Sinclair in jail where her brothers said he belonged.

If her brothers were right, then Jack had been extremely devious—he’d made sure he had an airtight alibi, with several of his own employees vouching he’d been working late the night her father had died. Laurel didn’t want to believe her half brother was capable of that kind of treachery. But as RJ had pointed out, Jack was a very wealthy man—made even richer by the forty-five percent stake he inherited in The Kincaid Group on her father’s death. That kind of money could buy any alibi—particularly when the people supplying it already depended on him to earn their living. Laurel made a mental note to get an update from Nikki Thomas, the corporate security specialist the family had hired to investigate Jack Sinclair’s efforts to sabotage The Kincaid Group. Laurel couldn’t bear to see her mother so down, and Nikki might also have some thoughts about how to speed up the investigation—even though Laurel had once or twice suspected Nikki to be a little more emotionally invested in the ruthless man she was investigating than was wise.

Immersed in her thoughts, the touch on her arm startled her, and her head jerked around.

Eli stood there, wearing a broad grin. “Laurel, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Glancing at the dark figure beside her former fiancé, Laurel found herself confronted by the handsome man she’d exchanged that sizzling eye-meet with during the wedding ceremony.

“Laurel, this is Rakin Whitcomb Abdellah.” Eli presented him with a flourish. “Rakin, meet Laurel Kincaid, my brand new sister-in-law.”

Honest to goodness, she was going to kill Kara!

Already she could feel a flush stealing up her throat.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” Rakin held out his hand.

“Funny, that’s exactly what I was about to say.” Laurel set down her glass and took his hand. Her lashes swept down as she became conscious of the strength of the fingers against hers. “I’m surprised we’ve never encountered each other before.”

“In’shallah.” Letting go of her fingers, he spread his own hands wide. “What more can I say? The time was not right.”

Her gaze lifted and sharpened. “You believe in fate?”

“But of course. Everything happens for a reason. Today is the right time for us to meet.”

Charmed, she started to smile. It looked like Eli’s friend might be the perfect candidate for a flirtation with a stranger. “It is?”

“Yes.” His black-velvet gaze was intent … and Laurel felt the primal power of the man.

To break the spell, she switched her attention to Eli and murmured, “You should be worried we might trade secrets—between us we probably know everything about you.”

Eli chuckled. “I’m terrified.”

“You’re anything but terrified.” Laurel glanced at Rakin, and found his dark eyes were bright with laughter

The band swung into the first bars of the first dance.

“Now there’s something I am terrified about messing up. That’s the bridal waltz,” said Eli. “Let me go claim my bride.”

Laurel couldn’t help laughing as he hurried back to her sister. Conscious of Rakin’s very male presence at her side as Eli led Kara out onto the floor, Laurel fell silent and concentrated on watching the dance—not an easy task with Rakin still looming over her.

A spotlight landed on the newlyweds. The guests sighed as they moved into the dance in perfect time, Kara’s white dress fanning out to fill the ring the spotlight had created. They glided to the melody, and a few beats later, Laurel’s sister Lily and her husband, Daniel, joined in, RJ and Brooke were next on the floor.

Laurel could see Alan smiling as he sat beside his mother at the table on the edge of the dance floor. Jack had disappeared. Laurel wished he could’ve practiced the same civility as the Kincaid family—at Elizabeth’s request—were taking great care to show Angela and her sons tonight.

“Would you like to dance?”

Rakin’s deep tone caused her to forget all about Jack’s rudeness.

Silently she gave him her hand. The warm strength of his fingers closing around hers caused the return of that renegade fantasy of crushed, kissed lips, and Laurel abruptly lowered her eyelashes before he might read any of her dizzy imaginings. “Why, thank you, I’d like that.”

He led her onto the dance floor and took her into his arms. The sudden intimacy came as a shock. The music swirled around them.

To break the seductive mood, Laurel said, “You met Eli at Harvard?”

“Yes, we shared some classes and sometimes went hiking together—we both like the outdoors.”

“Yes. You were on the rowing team together, too, weren’t you? I seem to remember hearing Eli talk about pre-dawn practices on the river.”

He smiled. “Strange interest for someone from a desert country, hmm?”

“A little.” She examined him. “Tell me about Diyafa.”

“Ah, Eli has told you about my country?”

“Just the name. Diyafa.” It rolled off her tongue. “It sounds so deliciously exotic.”

“It is. The desert nights are warm and dry and the heavens above possess the brightest stars I have ever seen.”

The whisper of his voice stoked her imagination. “How magical. I hate to confess this—but I’ve never been out of the United States.”

“Never?”

She shook her head. “Never. I always intended to travel.”

Item No. 6 on the List involved traveling to some far-flung exotic destination. She’d had a fleeting vision of herself standing in the center of St. Mark’s Square in Venice or in front of the Sphinx in Egypt. Somewhere as different from Charleston as she could get.

She pulled a face. “Now I just have to turn that dream into reality. I even got myself a passport.” Which she’d been carrying around in her purse, together with the List—and the letter from her father she’d received on that emotionally charged day when her father’s will was read.

“Diyafa is a good place to visit.”

Did he think she was trying to coax an invitation from him? Discomfort flooded her. “Oh, I couldn’t take advantage of our acquaintance.”

“Why not?”

Her lashes fluttered down. “We hardly know one another.”

“I’m sure we can remedy that.” He sounded amused.

Laurel’s lashes lifted. Heavens, was she actually flirting with the man?

Then she examined her reaction.

So what?

Flirt with a stranger. It was on her list, and she was unlikely to ever encounter Rakin again. He might be Eli’s other best friend, but before today she’d only ever heard about him. It would be at least another ten years before they met again; after all he was a busy man. Worth the risk?

Or was she going to chicken out? No. The time to act had arrived. Pursing her mouth into a moue, she gave what she hoped looked like a mysterious smile. “Maybe I will visit … one day.”

An arrested expression settled in his eyes.

“You can let me know when you do.” There was an intimate note in his voice.

He was flirting too!

Rakin was clearly a master at the art of flirtation. For once she was tempted to let herself go. To revel in the full power of her womanhood. This was a man she was facing, a real man with a wealth of experience with women.

“To be honest I’m more likely to visit Las Vegas—” she began with a teasing laugh.

“You like to gamble?”

Had his voice dropped? Laurel’s heart beat a little faster. “I’ve never gambled seriously in my life. Certainly not in a casino.”

Her mother didn’t approve of gambling. A roguish uncle, the black sheep of the Winthrop family, had lost a fortune at poker, contributing to the dire straits the family found itself in before her mother’s marriage into the Kincaid fortune. Gambling was seriously discouraged among the Kincaid children. No doubt that was why Gamble all night had made it onto the List….

“We’ll have to change that—raise the stakes.”

Yes, he was definitely flirting. If the intimate note in his voice hadn’t made it clear, the gleam in his eyes confirmed it. Laurel gave herself up to the heady rush. “I wouldn’t want to become addicted.”

“That can only happen if the stakes are higher than you can afford.”

“I’ll remember that.” She peeked at him through her lashes. “If I ever find myself in Vegas.”

The song came to an end. She was hot and thirsty, yet Laurel found she didn’t want the exchange to end. It was exhilarating. Fun. Yet risky. More than she’d ever banked on when she’d scrawled Flirt with a stranger on her list. The weight of Rakin’s hand resting on her waist, the touch of his fingers against hers, the way his body had brushed against hers to the rhythm of the music was stealing over her senses.

“It’s warm in here,” she said, finally letting go of his hand and fanning her face. “I need a drink.”

“There’s a cool breeze outside,” Rakin responded readily, his hand sliding from where it rested at her waist to beneath her elbow. As they skirted the dance floor he picked up two brimming tulip glasses from a passing waiter with his free hand, before leading her to the open doors.

Laurel hesitated on the threshold. Outside, the balcony appeared to be deserted.

Her heart leapt as his hand touched the sensitive skin under her elbow. Rakin’s voice was deep and smooth as he said, “Come. It will be quiet and cool.”

And she couldn’t help wondering if she’d let herself in for more than she could handle as she stepped out into the Southern night.

There was a slight breeze and the balmy night air was redolent with the sweet scent of magnolia and jasmine.

Rakin led Laurel to the shadows at the end of balcony where the sultry throb of the jazz band was fainter. Under the glow cast by a wall sconce, he handed one of the long-stemmed glasses to Laurel, then leant back against the wide balustrade. She tipped the glass up to take a slow sip, and her gaze tangled with his over the rim.

Something—lust?—locked fast in the base of his stomach.

With her tall, slender figure wrapped in a column of moonlight silk, her magnolia skin, sparkling eyes and the crowning glory of her dark red hair, Laurel Kincaid was a very beautiful woman. Any man would be aroused by having the full wattage of her attention switched on to him. And, to his chagrin, Rakin discovered he was no exception.

But he was interested in far more than the surge of attraction between them. Holding her gaze, he drank from his glass, savoring the dry bubbles against his tongue. Despite the millions he’d added to the Al-Abdellah fortune, his grandfather was threatening to toss him out of the family business if he didn’t marry soon. So far, Rakin had resisted—love was not on his agenda. But the battle of wills being fought between himself and Prince Ahmeer Al-Abdellah had now erupted into open war. Marriage to the right woman might be the lesser of two evils. Eli’s not-so-joking suggestion that Laurel might be the perfect bride to get Rakin’s grandfather off his back was worth serious consideration.

And love would not be a factor …

One look at Laurel and his wily grandfather would ask no further questions. What man in his right mind would pass up the chance to wed such a stunning creature? Her connection to the Charleston Kincaids only served to make the deal even sweeter. But first Rakin would have to sell the idea to Laurel—she was a Kincaid, there was no earthly reason for her to agree to help him out.

Except business …

“So you’d like to gamble in Vegas?” he asked, swirling the gold liquid in his flute.

“Maybe.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. Was she teasing him? He couldn’t read her expression. “You’ve really never been?”

“Only once—as a young child. But I don’t remember it, so it doesn’t count.”

“Such a lack is easy enough to remedy—but you shouldn’t go alone.”

“I only discovered recently that I wanted to go at all. A few months ago I could’ve invited Lily or Kara along with me. But it’s too late for that—they’re both married now. You may not have heard, Lily and Daniel decided to solemnize their union in a very private service just a couple of days ago—Lily didn’t want to overshadow Kara’s wedding. They intend to have a bigger elaborate family affair in October after the baby is born.”

She spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, yet Rakin thought he detected a hint of loneliness in her voice. He was no stranger to loneliness. An only child, he envied Laurel the bond she shared with her sisters and brothers. The closeness among the Kincaids was evident in every look, every laugh.

The closest he’d come to that kind of relationship was the friendship he shared with Eli—but neither of them talked much about family … or emotions. Sport, money and business were their main lines of communication. “Marriage won’t change the fact that they will always be your sisters.”

Laurel moved away from the light, to the end of the balcony. She raised her glass and sipped while she stared out into the night. At last she spoke, “I know that. But now they have priorities of their own. Both of them have husbands … and Lily is going to be a mother. The sisterhood will never be the same again.” Her voice held an echo of sadness. Then he caught the glint of startling white in the shadows as she turned her head and smiled. “Enough of that. I have plenty of friends with whom I can visit Vegas.”

Rakin didn’t doubt that for a moment. She was vivacious and breathtakingly beautiful. She’d have friends buzzing around her like bees at a honey pot.

“How did you come to be friends with Eli?” he asked.

It had puzzled him when Eli had first spoken about Laurel Kincaid back at Harvard. Initially, Rakin had thought the two must share more than friendship. With his upbringing in the traditional society of Diyafa followed by all-boys schooling, envisaging a close friendship between a man and a woman had been foreign. But Eli had made it clear he and Laurel were nothing more than friends—very close friends. When the news had come that they were engaged, Rakin had not been surprised. At some point any friendship between a man and woman would have to cross into the sexual realm. Women and men were not created to be simply friends.

Laurel’s jilting of Eli, and Eli’s ready acceptance of it—and his wry joke that Rakin should marry her—had astonished Rakin. So, too, had the fact that Eli’s heart had not even been the slightest bit battered after Laurel’s desertion.

“Growing up, we were the same age—it seemed natural that we hung out together. Now, years later, with both of us still single and such good friends, we were invited everywhere together. I guess we were linked in everyone else’s minds as a couple long before the idea ever occurred to either of us.” She shrugged, and light glimmered on the pale slope of shoulders left bare by her silver-gray dress. “The next step was marriage. But clearly we’re better at being friends than lovers. There was no spark.”

And that would explain Eli’s philosophical acceptance of the breakup. Rakin put his glass down and took a step closer to Laurel; then he murmured, “You wanted spark?”

“Doesn’t every woman?”

Something leapt between them. Before Rakin could consider his actions, he lifted a hand and brushed a strand of the dark fire from her cheek. Her dewy skin was softer than any he’d ever touched—and it left him hungry to stroke again. Abruptly, he dropped his hand before he could give into the moment’s madness. “Everyone seeks that elusive flame—few are lucky enough to find it.”

“You mean love?”

“I don’t believe in love—I’m talking about what you called spark. A tangible force that connects two people in perfect harmony only a few times in a lifetime.”

She tipped her head back and drained the last of her champagne. The elegant column of her neck gleamed in the lamplight. “Spark sounds … interesting. I used to think I wanted love more than anything else in the world.”

“You don’t think so anymore?”

“Nope.” She giggled. “That should be ‘No,’ clearly and politely enunciated, of course.”

Rakin found himself grinning at that absurdity. The revelation that she wasn’t looking for some romantic notion of love eased his conscience. Business … and maybe some sparks … might be enough to persuade her to go along with his plan.

“Pardon my giggling.” Laurel moved back into the pool of light beneath the wall sconce. “There hasn’t been much to laugh about lately so this feels very good.”

“It must be the joy of a wedding.”

She raised her empty glass. “I suspect it may have something to do with the champagne, too.”

The forthright observation startled Rakin. Had he at last found a woman capable of distinguishing between realism and romance? Quite possibly. She was, after all, a Kincaid, a businesswoman. It was starting to look like he’d struck twenty-four-karat gold. “Can I get you another?”

“Not yet. I’ve had enough. I think I might be a little tipsy. I’m trying to remember how many glasses of champagne I’ve had. Three maybe.” She laughed again. “That’s a first.”

Straightening from where he leant, Rakin took the glass from her and set it down on the balustrade behind them. “You’ve never been tipsy?”

She shook her head and her hair swirled about her face. “Never! My mother would be mortified, she would not approve.”

At the mention of her mother, Rakin said, “I was sorry to hear about your mother’s arrest—it must have been a difficult time for the whole family.”

“It hasn’t been easy.” All humor drained from her face and Rakin found himself missing the pleasure of it. “The police are still no closer to finding a suspect. But thankfully Mom has been cleared.” Laurel shivered, and he knew it wasn’t with cold. “I keep replaying that last day through my mind. I was at the offices until late in the afternoon. I even made Dad a cup of coffee before I left. He glanced up when I set it down, I joked that it was hot and strong just as he liked it. He laughed—Dad didn’t often laugh—and thanked me, then he went back to the documents he was reading. That’s the last image I have of him. Daddy didn’t even see me wave goodbye as I exited his office.”

She broke off, and Rakin knew she was fighting back tears.

“But I keep thinking I should’ve have had some kind premonition—noticed something,” she said huskily. “I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Several of the staff were still there when I left—Brooke, RJ’s assistant at the time, was the last to leave.”

The memory was clearly upsetting Laurel. Rakin could make out the gooseflesh rippling across the fine, smooth skin of her arms.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked back to the end of the balustrade. “I can’t believe I never noticed anything.”

“You weren’t expecting anything to happen.”

She fell silent. Finally she turned her head and a band of moonlight fell across her face giving her skin the sheen of silvered silk. “Out of all of us, Brooke blames herself most. In her statement to the police she mentioned while she was finishing up the filing backlog, Mom brought dinner to Dad that night. The police arrested Mom—she was the last person to see him alive and, until recently, she had no alibi. What makes Brooke feel even worse is the fact that she didn’t even think to mention that earlier in the afternoon it was pouring rain and she had her arms full of blueprints when she ran for the office to avoid being drenched. A man in a hat and raincoat held the door open for her. No one has any idea who he was. Security didn’t record his entry—they thought he was with Brooke. And, of course, she has no idea who he could’ve been. Detective McDonough thinks it’s possible he hid in the building until after everyone—including Mom—left.”

“And there’s still no clue about who it was?”

Laurel shook her head, causing her hair to ripple over her shoulders. “Video security footage from an adjacent lot puts Jack Sinclair’s vintage Aston Martin in the parking lot from late afternoon until around the time my father was shot—but he swears he was at his own office. Yet he never reported his car missing—or stolen.”

The odd note in her voice made Rakin probe further, “But you think Sinclair might have murdered your father?”

“I keep hoping not. Dad obviously loved Angela—he wanted to marry her, but his parents wouldn’t countenance it. Jack’s clearly bitter about the situation. Fact is, he may be the firstborn son, but he’s not a legitimate Kincaid. Dad tried to make it up to him—and to Angela. Yet despite the inheritance and power Dad gave him, he’s behaving like he has a major grudge against the family—which makes it hard to view Jack in any kind of positive way.”

“And you like to see the best in people?”

“I try.” The eyes that met his held the kind of honesty he’d given up hoping to find. “But I don’t always get it right. Let’s talk about something else—I promised myself I wouldn’t let Jack Sinclair ruin tonight. It’s a celebration.”

“I want to talk about you.” With a sense of satisfaction, Rakin watched her do a double take. “Eli said you possess the kindest heart of anyone he knows.”

It had crossed Rakin’s mind in the past few minutes to throw himself at her mercy and ask her to help him out of a tight spot with his grandfather, but it went against the grain. Rakin never asked for favors. His pride would not allow it. All his decisions were based on considerations of mutual benefit—and hard profit.

She wrinkled her nose at him. “That makes me sound boring.”

“Kindness isn’t boring.”

“Well, it’s not very exciting either.”

Rakin’s eyebrows jerked up at that. “You want to be considered exciting?”

“I want a life.” It burst from her. She looked taken aback at her own ferocity. “Goodness, that sounded much more melodramatic than I intended.”

Maybe Laurel Kincaid didn’t express her own wants often enough, mused Rakin. Taking two steps toward her, he asked carefully, “How do you intend to achieve the life you want?”

Her gaze shifted out to the night. For a long moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer.

Then she turned her head, and her eyes glistened in the dappled shadows. “I’m going to do all the things I’ve never done. Things no one would expect of Laurel Kincaid, director of public relations of TKG, friend of the Library, patron of the Art Gallery—first person to join a committee for the next good cause.”

Rakin couldn’t suppress a smile at the self-deprecatory comment. “Like gamble in Vegas?”

“Exactly like gambling in Vegas.” She lifted her chin a touch defensively. “It may not be meaningful, but it will be one brick broken out of the boundaries that are imprisoning me.”

What was it about this woman that caused his heart to lighten and amusement to fill him? Leading him to feel as if he’d shed the burden accumulated over years?

Then it came to him. Under that ladylike exterior, Laurel Kincaid was a rebel. A real, genteel Southern rebel. Rakin had a feeling that she was about to throw off the constraints of a lifetime. The fates help them all. “You want to experience risk and adventure?”

“Oh, yes!”

Staring into her sparkling eyes, Rakin discovered he wanted to get to know this intriguing woman better.

Much better.

He desired her. More importantly, he liked her. It would be so easy to explain his predicament to her—he suspected she would listen. He could already visualize her head tilting to one side, her eyes fixed on his as he told her about his grandfather’s threats to disenfranchise him from the company he’d worked so hard to expand. His predicament would arouse her sympathy—how could it not, given the parallels to Jack Sinclair’s efforts to destroy The Kincaid Group?

Would her kind heart allow her to agree to a marriage of convenience?

Rakin suspected she just might even consider it. Eli had been right: Laurel would make him the perfect wife.