LITMIR.BIZ

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conversing with about the state of the shipping industry, he went to meet her. “Would you like to dance?”

      She nodded.

      A hand clapped his shoulder; then Matt’s voice broke in. “Rakin, we’ll catch up again, I’d like to find out more about some of those Diyafan market players.”

      For once, money and business were not at the forefront of Rakin’s mind. He said something to Matt that must have satisfied the other man, but he didn’t take his eyes off Laurel.

      He sensed he was walking a thin line.

      Pleasure was threatening to overwhelm business. It would do him well to take care and not to confuse his priorities. Then he came to his senses. He was Rakin Whitcomb Abdellah. He controlled a billion-dollar business empire. His grandfather ruled Diyafa. He’d never been the kind of man to let his heart rule his head. Never.

      Laurel Kincaid was business. He would not forget that.

      “Let’s dance,” he said gruffly, and swept the most beautiful woman he’d ever met into his arms.

      The rhythm of the jazz was rich and deep, smoldering with the passions of the South.

      Laurel’s body brushed against his, and involuntarily Rakin’s arms tightened. She was so soft and lush and incredibly feminine. A man could forget his resolve.

      She stiffened, and he instantly eased his hold.

      Business, he reminded himself.

      “What’s Flynn doing on the dance floor?”

      She’d come to a standstill, and Rakin followed her gaze. He might’ve been considering letting pleasure overwhelm him, but Laurel clearly had her feet firmly on the ground. The ring bearer from the wedding ceremony was weaving his way determinedly through the dancing guests. It hadn’t been his close hold that had caused her to stiffen, Rakin realized with relief. It was the child. Wearing a pair of sky-blue summer pajamas with his dark hair slicked down, Rakin suspected the kid was supposed to be tucked up in bed.

      “Hey!” Laurel slipped out of his arms in a whisper of silver satin, and caught the youngster’s hand.

      The boy’s face lit up. “Aunt Laurel, you didn’t catch the flowers Aunt Kara threw at you.”

      “You were watching?”

      “When’s Aunt Kara going to cut the cake? She said I could have some.”

      “This handsome rapscallion is Matt’s son, my nephew, Flynn.” Laurel told Rakin. Then she turned her attention back to the little boy. “I don’t think they’ll be cutting the cake for a while. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

      He nodded, his blue eyes round with innocence. “Pamela told me a bedtime story.”

      “Mom’s housekeeper,” Laurel explained to Rakin. To Flynn, she said, “You should be asleep.”

      “I was excited … and I want some cake.”

      “So you escaped.” Laurel grinned at him conspiratorially. “I tell you what, you can have one dance with us, then I’ll take you back to bed. I promise I’ll save you a ginormous piece of cake and give it to you in the morning. Deal?”

      Flynn looked uncertain.

      “Take it,” Rakin advised. “You won’t get a better offer tonight.”

      He held out a hand at a height Flynn could reach. Flynn’s eyes lit up as he recognized the game. “High five,” he crowed and slapped Rakin’s hand.

      “Deal,” said Rakin.

      Rakin watched with amusement as Flynn started to gyrate his limbs alongside them. He had the lack of inhibitions of the very young and threw his heart into every move. But, by the time the melody had faded, he looked exhausted.

      A short, silver-haired woman hurried up to claim him.

      “He gave me the slip,” she told Laurel, after passing a lightning-swift glance over Rakin. “I’ll put him back to bed.”

      As Flynn gave them a wave over his shoulder, the music struck up again. Rakin moved forward and gathered Laurel back into his arms. She didn’t protest.

      “Pamela, I take it?”

      Laurel nodded. “Sorry, I should’ve introduced you, but I imagined she wanted to get Flynn off to bed before Susannah starts to worry about him.”

      The rapid once-over the housekeeper had given him had told Rakin that she was clearly an established part of the Kincaid family. It wasn’t only Flynn and Susannah she was looking out for—there’d been a warning in that glance: Be honorable, or have me to deal with. Rakin smiled to himself. Pamela had nothing to fear….

      Against his shoulder, Laurel murmured, “It’s wonderful to see Flynn looking so much better, even though he’s still thin.”

      Spinning her deftly around to avoid colliding with a couple who had come to a standstill in the midst of dancers, Rakin said, “He’s been ill?”

      “Very. For the past two months Matt and Susannah have had to be careful about allowing him out—to limit his exposure to germs. But he’s had the green flag—he’s well on his way to full recovery. Tonight is the biggest crowd he’s been in since he got ill.”

      “No wonder he’s excited. He’s a great kid.”

      “I think so.” Laurel laughed up at him. “We all do.”

      Her green eyes sparkled like precious gems. Emeralds. A sultan’s prize. Rakin dismissed the fanciful notion. “Your nephew was right—you didn’t catch the bridal bouquet.”

      He’d been amused how she’d lithely leapt out of the way of the bunch of flowers the bride had tossed at her. If he had any doubt about the veracity of her claim earlier that she wasn’t looking for love, he certainly believed it now. She couldn’t have chosen a more public place to make her lack of interest in romantic commitment clear. Laurel might as well have taken out an ad in the society pages to proclaim she wasn’t interested in marriage.

      “No, I didn’t catch it.”

      Despite her polite smile, and the carefully enunciated “No,” the dangerous glint he detected in her eyes told another story. The laugh started low in his belly. He did his best to contain it—to no avail. Her glint turned to a glare. Biting back his mirth, before they became the focus of attention of those other than her two sisters-in-law, who were trying to look as though they were not following their dance, he said, “I thought every maid of honor dreamed of being the next bride.”

      “Not me. I want—”

      “Excitement … adventure.”

      That wrested a reluctant laugh from her. “You whipped the words right out of my mouth.”

      Rakin forgot all about her watching relatives. His gaze dropped down to her lips.

      Why hadn’t he noticed how perfectly they were shaped? The flowing curve of the top lip was a work of art, while the plump bottom one promised pure sin.

      Instantly the mood changed, vibrating with suppressed tension. Her annoyance, his teasing, their laughter, all vanished. Rakin was no longer conscious of anyone in the room—except the woman in his arms.

      Her lips parted, and she drew a quick breath.

      “I’ll do it,” she told him in a rush. “I’ll come with you to Vegas.”

      He hadn’t expected a reply so soon.

      He’d been summoning his powers of persuasion. Now there was no need. Tension Rakin hadn’t even known existed eased. Had he really believed she would refuse? The way his muscles relaxed suggested he hadn’t been as certain of Laurel as he would’ve liked.

      His gaze lifted—and clashed with eyes alive with excitement.

      “This

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