by Trish Morey
“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.
CHAPTER 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 wh
en 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 reme
mber 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?