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      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

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