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“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