by Trish Morey
“I prefer the cherries.”
He didn’t even smile.
“You’ve got no intention of saying ‘yes’ to my proposal, have you?”
Laurel didn’t answer at once. To be honest, she was confused —Rakin had turned her world upside down with his proposal. It was far more disorientating than the roller coasters they’d shared earlier. Or the flashing lights and loud chimes of the nearby slot machines.
Part of her wanted to leap in and say yes.
No doubt about it, marriage to Rakin would be an adventure. A chance to experience things she wouldn’t otherwise. It certainly made good business sense. The Kincaid Group couldn’t afford to turn away opportunities for new business—particularly not with Jack Sinclair still causing all kinds of mayhem.
But the more cautious side of her, the old carefully and conservatively raised Laurel Kincaid, warned that she didn’t know Rakin terribly well, that this was an extremely risky proposition, one she should avoid at all costs.
All reason evaporated when he strode up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I should’ve asked you to marry me back on the balcony last night—I’m starting to think you might have been more likely to say yes back during the wedding.”
His touch against her bare skin was… disturbing. Laurel struggled to think. At last she shook her head slowly. “You were a stranger then, I know you so much better now.”
She realized it was true.
In the cocoon formed by his arms, for her benefit as much as his, she ticked off on her fingers what she’d learned. “One, you’re fun to be with—I’ve never laughed so much in my life as I did today. Two, you’re kind—you held my hand when you thought I might be scared that first time on the roller coaster. Three, you love the world around us—I discovered that at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Four, you’re good with children—”
“You can’t possibly know that!”
His hands dropped away from her shoulders, and her flesh felt cool where, an instant before, his fingers had rested.
“I do,” she insisted. “You patiently humored Flynn at the wedding.”
“Then marry me!”
His eyes drilled down into hers.
“Only if I win.”
She swung away. From her purse she extracted a roll of coins. Tearing the wrapper with the casino logo from the coins, she fed them into the first slot machine she came to and hit the play button.
The patterns spun crazily.
When they came to rest, nothing lined up.
Not even a pair of cherries.
The same thing happened on the next play.
Laurel’s heart felt hollow. It was ridiculous to feel so flat, like a loser, simply because she couldn’t even hit the cherries.
Get a life.?…
She hadn’t felt this flatness earlier. She and Rakin had connected; they’d enjoyed each other’s company. The day had been filled with joy. Her intuition told her they’d make a great temporary team—The Kincaid Group would benefit and so would Gifts of Gold.
It wouldn’t be crazy to marry him—she liked him.
And the man didn’t even gamble.
She stared at the rows lined with pictures and numbers. What was she doing? Rakin was right: she didn’t need some arbitrary sign. This was a solid business decision. It made perfect, logical sense to accept his proposal.
She didn’t need to prove that she could win.
Laurel knew she was going to say yes.
She hit the play button for the last time, and turned to give him the answer he was waiting for.
The cacophony of bells and electronic chimes rising in a hysterical crescendo caused her to whip around to stare at the slot machine.
In disbelief she read the flashing letters instructing her to call an attendant.
“The lights are flashing,” she said, as numbness invaded her. “I’ve won.”
Rakin was laughing.
“I’ve won,” she said again.
But Rakin wasn’t looking at the crazy, psychedelic fireworks above the slot machine. He was coming toward her his arms outstretched. “Looks like you’ve broken the Winthrop curse. You’ve hit the jackpot.”
Her eyes lifted to the amount in white lights at the top: $22,222. It wasn’t a fortune, but it more than covered her earlier losses. And it was definitely a jackpot. “Two must be my lucky number.”
Then she was being swept off her feet into Rakin’s arms. He spun her around as colors flashed crazily around her. By the time he set her down, the numbness was starting to recede as feeling returned… and with it, euphoria.
She grinned up at him. “I feel…” How best to describe it? “…lucky.”
“We’ll be lucky together.” Rakin’s gaze blazed into hers. “We will be married tomorrow.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TODAY was her wedding day.
Laurel freed herself from the sheet that had twisted around her limbs while she slept. In one lithe movement, she swung her legs out of the bed and sat up. Hooking a finger under the narrow strap of her cream silk nightie that had slithered off her shoulder, she righted it.
On the bedside table the rose that Rakin had organized to be delivered with the check for her winnings rested in a glass of water.
Laurel’s gaze fell onto the crumpled letter with the card tucked beneath that she’d placed on the nightstand beside the rose last night. The two documents that were dominating her life: her father’s letter—and her Get a Life List.
She reached for the List first.
No. 1 Jilt Eli.
Laurel shut her eyes. No need to feel guilty, Eli was much happier married to Kara.
No. 2 Wear red lipstick. Check.
No. 3 Flirt with a stranger. Check. She’d done that with vengeance… and look where it had gotten her. Now she was marrying him. Even though she hadn’t even kissed him yet.?…
Laurel was smiling when she read the next item.
No. 4 Eat ice cream in bed. An absolute taboo in the Kincaid household. And last night when Rakin had ordered ice cream for dessert, she’d immediately thought of her list… and the visions that had flashed through her head had been dangerously X-rated. All too easy to imagine herself doing plenty of things she shouldn’t even be considering with the dark stranger to whom she was growing curiously addicted.
Well, she certainly wouldn’t be eating ice cream in bed with Rakin any time soon.?…
No. 5 Gamble all night.
Laurel read the entry again. Last night she’d proved—forever—that she had no need to gamble all night. It gave her a curious sense of peace. She was a winner in her own right.
No. 6 Travel to far-flung places.
Check. She would be going with Rakin to Diyafa. There would be more journeys beyond that. The passport she carried with her was about to be put to plenty of use.
Her face broke into a smile as she glanced down the remaining items.
She was well on track… even though the tasks grew tougher toward the end.
Laurel placed the list back on the nightstand. By contrast, the much-folded paper that her father’s letter was written on had the texture of tissue paper between her fingertips. Laurel unfolded it, her eyes immediately drawn to the salutation and the first line.
My dearest Laurel,
If you are reading this, I am no longer with you.
Even though she knew the contents by heart, the words still had the power to clog her throat with emotion.
Her father had been gone for nearly five months, yet it was still hard to accept that she would never see him again. She read the letter through to the end, then set it down with a profound wish that they’d never discovered that her father possessed feet of clay. Discovering her father’s secret life with Angela while he was still married to her mother had turned her belief in their happy marriage on its head. Had everything she believed about her parent’s love simply been a lie?
Rakin might not be offering her love… but at least he was offering her honesty.
&n
bsp; The benefits would be very real.
What he was offering would tick off the boxes of the shopping list of wants she’d scrawled before jilting Eli.
By marrying Rakin, she’d be actively fulfilling more of her dreams. At the same time, she’d also be able to source leads for new business to refer to her brother, Matt. That way she’d also be working actively on No. 9 on the List: Help save TKG. Rakin would be getting something he wanted—needed—out of the deal, too.
She had nothing to lose.
At the marriage license bureau it took only minutes of standing in the queue before Laurel found herself signing the application in the space beside the bold slash of Rakin’s signature. She stared at the word printed in bold type below her signature: BRIDE.
Bride? For one wild second panic surged through her. A month ago she’d been engaged to her best friend. Someone she knew. Someone she was fond of. Someone she understood. She’d certainly never had any intention of marrying a man she’d only just met—and a sheikh at that.
Then her nerves steadied.
She liked Rakin. She trusted him. He needed a bride; the Kincaid Group needed more business. And he was going to help her become the woman she’d always wanted—secretly—to be.
Her pulse slowed down as the panic subsided. Behind the counter, the clerk handed Rakin a duplicate form.
“Cheapest place to get married is the Office of Civil Marriages. It’s on Third Street, on the right-hand side, only a short walk away.”
“We’ll do a bit of research—but thank you for your help.” Rakin flashed her an easy smile.
“Some of the hotels on the strip are mighty expensive.” The clerk gave Rakin a once-over. Then she gave a wistful sigh. “But maybe that won’t matter.” The look she cast Laurel held a glint of envy. “Have a wonderful wedding… and good luck.”
Laurel smiled back. “Thank you.”
They exited through smoked glass doors.
Laurel caught sight of the signboards for lawyers and paused. It started her thoughts down a path not easily stopped. What would her family make of her impulsive wedding? Before she’d told Eli she couldn’t marry him, she’d spent months talking to her family’s attorneys negotiating a prenuptial agreement that the lawyers were confident protected both her and The Kincaid Group. Eli’s lawyers had worked equally hard to ensure that the prenup was fair to him, too.
If her father were alive, he’d be having a stroke at the thought of any of his daughters marrying a man the family hadn’t inspected, without a prenup, exposing The Kincaid Group to all manner of risks. No prenuptial agreement was a sin worse than unprotected sex—and that was calamity enough—in her father’s opinion.
So she slid Rakin a sideways glance. What did she really know about him—beside the fact that he was Eli’s friend? And she liked him. A lot. He could be a gold-digger—a gigolo—for all she knew. Quickly, she checked her thoughts. Told herself she was being ridiculous.
Rakin Abdellah was clearly a very rich man. Even the clerk had noticed the patina of wealth that glossed him, separating him from the average romantic swain who turned up in the marriage license bureau.
But the lessons of a lifetime caused her to say, “We should’ve signed a prenup. My family will kill me when they find out.?…” Her voice trailed away as Rakin took her elbow. “Where are we going?”
“To see if we can find a lawyer. I don’t want you having any sense of guilt, or any reservations about this.”
“I must sound like the biggest party pooper ever.”
“Never.” He was smiling down at her, and it eased the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. “How could I think that? I admire you for being so clear-sighted—for thinking about protecting your family—and their livelihood.”
In some childish, hidden corner of her heart, Laurel wished that he’d dismissed the caution she’d voiced, and swept her up in his arms, then charged into the Little Red House of Love to rush through their temporary vows.
At least, that way, she wouldn’t be held accountable for what happened next.?… That way she could blame him for whatever the outcome was.
And maybe the disturbing little niggle of doubt that had taken hold would’ve evaporated in a puff of smoke.?…
They caught the lawyer closing up his offices.
The slight, dark-suited man started to object, but one glance at Rakin’s determined face convinced him to welcome them instead. A raised hand stayed the last-remaining paralegal who was about to slip out a side door.
With the recent negotiations with Eli so fresh in her mind, it didn’t take Laurel long to explain what she needed. Rakin took even less time to get his requirements across. It reinforced what Laurel was starting to realize—under the handsome, charming facade lurked a tough negotiator.
A tiger, rather than a pussycat. With a tiger’s feral instincts. Something she would do well to remember.
“You need to be aware that a prenuptial agreement entered so near in time to a wedding date can be held to be void for duress,” the lawyer told them once they were seated around a conference table with plush, padded chairs in the privacy of his offices.
It was hardly the time for Laurel to confess that Rakin had proposed a temporary marriage—a mad adventure for her with some fringe benefits for her family’s business thrown in—and a sane solution to Rakin’s problems.
Laurel got the feeling that if the lawyer knew about the reasons for their marriage he’d consider them both a little mad—and advise them they were headed for trouble.
“Do you want to wait?” Rakin’s murmur, loud enough for her ears only, broke into her speculative thoughts. She turned her head and looked into eyes that mesmerized her.
“Wait?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Take some more time to think it through.” He gave her a tender smile that probably convinced the lawyer seated across the polished conference table that this was a love match.
Laurel almost grinned back. The misgivings that had settled over her began to lift. In their place, recklessness danced a wild waltz through her. She’d made her decision—she was ready for the adventure of a lifetime.
She was done being careful.
“No need to wait.” Who was this stranger who had taken up possession inside her skin? With a defiant toss of her head, she spoke directly to the lawyer, “No one’s forcing me to do anything I don’t want.”
“Laurel wants to make sure we both understand exactly where we stand—especially given that we both have family businesses to consider,” said Rakin.
“Very wise.” The lawyer pulled his yellow legal pad closer and uncapped his pen. “It may not seem like a very romantic thing to do, but it certainly shows you both agree on many basic things—very important for building the foundations of a lasting marriage.”
When the lawyer suggested that each of them might want their own counsel, Laurel waved his concerns away. She’d been through all that once already with Eli. She knew what would be said, the cautions, the ifs and the buts that she’d considered so carefully the last time round. She knew the pitfalls, what safeguards were required.
It didn’t take him long to make a note of what those concerns were. Or for the paralegal to reduce the terms to a draft both she and Rakin perused. Once the agreement was executed and the lawyer had arranged where to send the bill, the meeting was over.
“I wish you the long and happy marriage I am sure you will enjoy.”
Laurel decided to leave their adviser with his illusions. Clearly, he’d concluded this was a love match. A meeting of true minds. And who was she to disabuse him of that romantic notion?
Entering the hotel suite a short while later, Laurel kicked off her shoes and sank into the welcoming comfort of a plush L-shaped sofa with a breathy laugh. “Well, I’m glad that’s done.”
“Soon you will be Mrs. Abdellah.”
Rakin extracted a bottle of champagne from the depths of the bar fridge.
“I’ll help myself to a cola in a l
ittle while,” Laurel said quickly. “Otherwise you might railroad me into more propositions.”
He gave her a wry smile. “You’re never going to let me live that down.”
“Never is a long time.” Lazily, she stretched her arms above her head. “I should take a shower.”
“Relax for a few moments, there’s still plenty of time to get dressed.”
Dressed? Laurel gulped as her thoughts homed in on one overwhelmingly feminine worry. A dress. A wedding dress. She didn’t have a dress. What was she to wear? With dismay she thought about the strapless black dress she’d worn to the casino last night. Black wouldn’t do for a wedding. Even if it wasn’t a marriage for love—there should still be some element of romance about the occasion.
“I don’t have anything remotely suitable for a wedding,” she confessed as Rakin closed the door of the bar fridge.
“Have no fear.” He gave her a smug smile. “It’s all been taken care of.”
“All been taken care of?” Laurel echoed.
At his look at satisfaction, it fell into place.?… Rakin had already bought her a wedding dress.
He’d clearly thought of everything—Kara would’ve been impressed.
The doubt devils returned. What if the gown didn’t fit? Or, worse, what if she hated the design he’d chosen? How was she supposed to tell him that when he’d clearly been thinking of her?
If only Kara were here to help…
An image of the dress Kara had picked out for the-wedding-that-had-never-happened flashed into her mind. The perfect dress. An elegant fitted white lace bodice with a full skirt. She’d had more fittings than she’d wanted to get the fit just right.
But Kara wasn’t here.
Besides the last dress Kara had picked out had suited the old Laurel. Perfectly. The Laurel who did exactly as everyone expected. Not the woman with an unquenchable thirst for adventure that she’d become.
Rakin had called her a rebel.
Suddenly she found herself looking forward to seeing what Rakin had chosen. Laurel found her lips creeping up into a smile as he settled on the sofa beside her. “You’ve bought me a wedding dress, haven’t you?”
“Not quite.”