One Dance with the Sheikh

by Tessa Radley

  The sharp incline of his head confirmed her suspicion. “Zafar hates me. He would destroy me if he could, and I would die before I allowed Zafar to take this from me…so I will be married first.”

  “Wouldn’t it be more advantageous for you also to marry a woman your grandfather had chosen for you?”

  Rakin’s eyebrows drew together, giving him a formidable air. “That would give him too much power over me.” The frown relaxed. “Besides, even if he scoured the whole earth, my grandfather could find no better candidate than you.”

  Laurel could feel her cheeks heating. “That is shameless flattery!”

  “Not at all. You are beautiful and presentable. You are well connected…and incredibly gracious.” Leaning farther forward he captured one of her hands. “And, to make sure you are equally happy, I will also make sure that our marriage will lead to benefits for The Kincaid Group.”

  * * *

  Laurel jerked upright at his touch. “What kind of benefits?”

  He had her.

  Rakin was certain of it. She was going to agree to marry him—exactly as he’d hoped. He let her hand go and sat back. Not far away he could hear the chiming of a slot machine announcing a winner, the whoops of celebration that followed.

  He focused on the woman beside him, the woman he was determined to have as his wife. “There are many exporters and importers in Diyafa—they rely on shipping containers to transport their products around the world. I will see to it that they are introduced to your family’s business. I will do everything I can to expand the profile of The Kincaid Group within my circle.”

  “You wouldn’t expect me to give up my role in the company?”

  Laurel was even starting to speak as though their marriage was a fait accompli. Satisfaction spread through Rakin. “Our marriage would be temporary—such a drastic sacrifice would not be required.”

  “How temporary?”

  Rakin shrugged, impatient with her insistence. “Once we are married, my grandfather will sign the stocks over to me, I will have control of the company…and you will be free to leave—to return to Charleston, and your family, for good.”

  She shifted to the edge of the seat, and the rogue tendril of hair fell forward. She brushed it back impatiently, and the pendant lights illuminating the alcove turned her diamond drop earrings to a cascade of sparkles. “But you would expect me to live in Diyafa, right?”

  He nodded and crossed one leg over the other, keeping his pose deliberately casual, taking care not to spook her. A few minutes more…that was all it was going to take. “Otherwise my grandfather would not accept that our marriage was legitimate—and I cannot afford him to doubt the veracity of our union. But there would be compensations for living in Diyafa for part of the year. I travel a lot—and I’d expect you to be by my side. I make regular business trips to the United States, so you would see plenty of your family. You could continue doing public relations work for your family’s business. I would never stop you. The technology in Diyafa is groundbreaking; you could work there with everything at your fingertips. I travel to many countries, too. Think about it, you would be able to work through that list of yours.”

  “What do you know about my List?” Laurel was staring at him, green eyes wide with shock.

  He tried to keep the smugness out of his smile. It hadn’t taken him long to fathom what was on her list. “It’s obvious that you have a list of places you want to travel to. I know Vegas is on there for certain, you mentioned adding Lake Como—and you may even have considered Diyafa.”

  Rakin got the feeling she was debating something.

  He certainly couldn’t afford for her to have second thoughts now.

  “Laurel, I will take you everywhere you wish to travel. We would visit the Taj Mahal, I would take you to the Tower of London. You could sip French champagne beside the Seine in the spring time. You will never regret the adventures you will experience.”

  The doubt vanished and her expression filled with yearning. “That’s not fair. You’re chipping away at my weakest point.”

  Of course, he knew that. For someone who had confessed to never having traveled much and always wanted to, he was offering the dream of a lifetime.

  “It’s not a weakness to have a dream.”

  There was an expression in her eyes that he did not recognize. “You’re offering to fulfill my dream?”

  He didn’t need her romanticizing him. He was, after all, not the love of her life that his mother had thought his father to be. He wanted no misunderstandings. He was, after all, only a man. “It’s not one-sided. Don’t forget that I will get what I need, too.”

  “So this will be a win-win deal?”

  She understood! He couldn’t have chosen better if he’d spent the whole year searching for the perfect wife.

  “Exactly,” he purred. The dazzling smile Rakin directed at her was filled with triumph. “Why not accept my proposition?”

  * * *

  Proposition.

  The word dragged Laurel back to what Rakin was offering: a business deal…not the dream of a lifetime.

  Restlessness flooded her, and she leapt to her feet. “I think I’ve found my second wind. Let’s see if I can break that Winthrop curse.”

  Rakin rose more slowly and blocked her escape. “You want to gamble more? Now?”

  She shot him a look that could never be described as flirtatious. He was the cause of this…this turbulence that was turning her inside out. “You’re asking me to take the gamble of a lifetime by marrying you—what difference is a few minutes going to make?”

  He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “Take all the time you need.” The look he gave her was full of masculine confusion as he stepped away so that she could pass. “But it’s hardly for a lifetime. It’s not a permanent arrangement.”

  But Laurel didn’t move past him. “I want a sign.”

  “A sign?” The confusion evaporated, leaving frustration clouding his eyes. “What kind of sign?”

  “That marrying you is the right thing to do.”

  “And what would you consider a good sign?”

  Laurel thought about it for a moment. “Winning back the money I lost on the roulette tables—losing it was very bad luck.”

  “But your family never wins.” Rakin looked fit to burst.

  A wave of amusement swept Laurel along as she headed for the gambling area. Now perhaps he felt as off-balance as she did. Over her shoulder, she tossed, “I’m going to stick to the slot machines this time. So chances are if I do win it would be an excellent omen.”

  Rakin made a peculiar sound.

  Laurel turned, in time to see him produce a coin from his pocket.

  “Heads or tails?” he demanded.

  The absurdity of it struck her as she came to a stop. “You’re asking me to make what might be one of the biggest decisions of my life on the flip of a coin?”

  “You’re about to risk it on a machine that pays pittances on pairs of cherries. I prefer these odds,” he said grimly.

  “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 b
usiness—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.”

  THE KINCAIDS: JACK AND NIKKI, PART 5

  Day Leclaire

  “So, tell me, Nikki…how did you and Jack meet?”

  They were gathered around Angela Sinclair’s dinner table, enjoying a Saturday evening supper. Apparently, they’d reached the point in their three-month affair for Jack to take Nikki to Greenville and introduce her to his mother and half brother, Alan. And though she suspected Angela knew full well how the two of them had met, Nikki answered with a swift, reminiscent smile.

  “I won him.”

  “Bid a thousand dollars for me at the Read and Write bachelor auction,” Jack confirmed.

  “Best purchase I ever made.” Nikki’s smile grew, warmed. “One look and I knew I had to have him. Best of all, my money went to assist literacy in everyone from nine to ninety-five. You can’t beat that combination, can you?”

  “No, I guess not.” Angela cleared her throat and continued to regard Nikki with a friendly expression, though for some reason a hint of wariness rippled beneath the surface. “And what is it, exactly, you do for a living? I don’t recall Jack mentioning it.”

  Nikki hesitated at the abrupt change in subject and returned her fork to her plate while she considered how best to respond. Her glance touched on Jack before switching to Angela, who’d asked the question. “I’m a corporate investigator.”

  Angela’s pale eyebrows shot upward and she studied Nikki with appealing hazel eyes that were identical to those of Alan, her younger son. “How interesting. Who do you work for?”

  To Nikki’s intense relief, Jack intervened, reaching across the table to rest his hand over his mother’s. “She’s not at liberty to talk about her investigations,” he explained, his voice containing a rare gentleness. He’d treated Angela with that same hint of protectiveness and loving concern throughout the meal, as though his mother were a fragile piece of spun glass. Nikki couldn’t help wondering if it related to Angela’s vulnerability now that her role as Reginald Kincaid’s mistress had come to light, or if some other cause were at the heart of the matter. “Her investigations are confidential.”

  “Oh, of course.” Angela gave a light laugh. “I should know better considering I’m a nurse. We also have to maintain client confidentiality.”

  “Perhaps you can tell us about some of your cases,” Alan suggested, his smile a warm reflection of his mother’s, as were his golden-blond hair and innocuous, pretty-boy good looks. “Changing the names to protect the guilty, of course.”

  Alan had come as quite a surprise, perhaps because he and Jack were polar opposites. While Jack reminded her of his Kincaid half-siblings, Alan possessed none of the ruthless intensity that characterized his half brother, perhaps because his father had been so different from Reginald Kincaid, the man who had fathered Jack.

  “To be honest,” Nikki said, “they’re not all that interesting. Most of my job involves straight background research.” Of course, since she worked for the Kincaids—something she’d neglected to mention to Jack and which she was certain would come back to bite her badly in the near future—she didn’t dare discuss any of her investigations. Particularly since the main case on her desk right now was investigating Jack Sinclair. Of course, she’d been asked to investigate him well after they’d started dating. And sleeping together. The situation made for a very precarious line she was forced to walk. Perhaps this would be a good time to deflect the attention. “So, what do you do, Alan?”

  Almost as soon as she spoke, she realized she’d asked the wrong question. Angela pretended an intense interest in her dinner, while Jack watched his brother with sardonic amusement. “Yes, Alan. Tell us what you do.”

  For just
an instant, Nikki caught a flash of something glittering in Alan’s eyes, something that suggested the two brothers weren’t as close as she’d assumed. Then the brief moment of animosity vanished and Alan offered another charming smile. “I’m between jobs right now,” he confessed with self-deprecatory humor. “But TKG has offered me a position. It was one of Reginald Kincaid’s dying wishes.”

  Nikki froze. Oh, no. Oh, please let her ears have deceived her. “TKG? The Kincaid Group?” she repeated faintly, sparing Jack a swift look.

  He totally misread her shock, assuming it was because of his ongoing feud with the Kincaids versus the tiny detail she’d neglected to mention to him—that she was TKG’s corporate investigator. What the hell was she going to do when Alan started working there? Eventually they were bound to run into one another. And when they did…

  Jack would learn the truth about her.

  “My father wanted to help my brother since he so often finds himself between jobs,” Jack explained, intense irony rippling through his voice.

  The comment struck a nerve, and for a moment anger flashed across Alan’s expression before it collapsed into lines of grief. “Reginald was like a father to me, something I badly needed after my own father’s untimely demise.”

  “Your father was Richard Sinclair?”

  “That’s right. He and Mother married shortly before Jack was born, though as I’m sure you’re aware, Reginald Kincaid is Jack’s biological father despite his use of my family name.”

  Nikki spared Jack another glance. Okay, ouch. Considering Richard Sinclair had been the only father Jack had known during the first nine years of his life, his brother’s attitude must hurt. Not that Jack betrayed that hurt with so much as a flicker of an eyelash.

  “After Dad was gone,” Alan continued, “Reginald came back into Mother’s life. Of course, he treated me with the same loving kindness he did his own son. We were quite close.”

  “I see,” she murmured, although she had more than a sneaking suspicion she didn’t see at all. Heaven protect her from Jack’s family dynamics. Between his conflicted relationship with his Kincaid half brothers and sisters and his equally conflicted relationship with Alan, did he ever feel as though he fit in or possessed the sort of roots Southerners took such pride in?