Winter Blockbuster 2012 (34 page)

Her expression changed instantly. “He has done you harm?”

Rakin hesitated. Almost reluctantly, he said, “He has always been my foe.”

He could see his response had surprised her. “Always?”

Wishing he’d kept silent, Rakin said with even greater reluctance, “From childhood we have been in conflict.”

“You look like you are near in age.”

“I am three months older.” But he’d been sent away to England—while Zafar, his grandfather’s favorite, had stayed.

“How sad! I would’ve have expected you to be friends.”

“We were never encouraged to be friends.” The brusque statement was not intended to illuminate the tensions that had existed between him and his cousin. Rakin waved a dismissive hand. “Talking about Zafar is of no interest. I came to find you because I want you to meet Ben Al-Sahr. He imports large quantities of cotton from the United States. Presently he ships mostly from other areas, but if the Kincaids can introduce him to a supplier in Charleston, that could change.”

“Thank you, Rakin. I would certainly like to meet him—and I’m sure Matt would love to connect with him, too. I’ll have to let him know to expect a call.” She placed her fingers on his arm, and the smile she gave him was brilliant.

“Matt? It’s Laurel.” Across the world, her brother sounded half asleep. “What time is it? Did I wake you?”

“It’s okay.” His voice sharpened. “Laurel? Is something the matter?”

“No, no. Nothing’s the matter.” She crossed her fingers. “I got married.”

She shut her eyes… and waited.

The eruption she’d anticipated wasn’t long in coming. “You got married? When? To whom?”

“To Rakin. In Vegas.” Before he could interrupt she added in a rush, “But we’re in Diyafa now. Rakin wanted to introduce me to his family.”

There was a long silence. Laurel found herself staring out of the window, over the planted garden outside the palace windows. The rosebushes were in bloom. Red. Yellow. Orange. All the fiery colors of a desert sunset.

“Does Mom know?” Matt spoke at last.

The pointed question caused a stab of guilt. “It happened so suddenly. You’re the first to know.”

“Oh.” Matt fell silent.

“I’ll call Mom next,” she said quickly as the pause again expanded beyond what was comfortable. “Then I’ll call Kara and Lily—and RJ.”

“Kara and Eli have gone away for a few days.”

“Oh.” It highlighted how out of touch she was. It felt as if more than a few days had elapsed. Why should it surprise her? After all, more than the view out the window had changed—her whole life had changed.

“Why?”

This was the question she’d been dreading. Somewhere outside she could hear children laughing. “Because he’s an attractive man?” she suggested tentatively. “Because—”

“Not why did you get married—why are you telling me first and not Mom or RJ?”

Relief filled her. At least the answer to that was easy. “Because Rakin introduced me to a business associate of his. He’s a cotton importer and Rakin has convinced him he’d be better off buying in Charleston and using TKG for shipping. I wanted to warn you that he’d be calling soon.”

“You get married and that’s what you call to tell me? That your new husband may have sourced us new business?”

Matt sounded mad.

But why?

And why did men have to make it so difficult to understand them? She’d thought Matt would be thrilled—both at the news of her marriage and at the idea of the contacts she was making for TKG.

Finally Laurel settled for, “Yes.”

“Since when did business become the most important thing in your life, Laurel?”

“What do you mean?” Bewilderment flooded her, quickly followed by a tide of sisterly annoyance. “For months all we’ve talked about is what’s going to happen to The Kincaid Group. And sure, the position is a lot easier since Susannah’s grandfather came on board with Larrimore Industries, but we’re not out of the woods yet, Matt. The last thing I heard at the wedding before I left for Vegas with Rakin was that Jack Sinclair was causing trouble again—and that you were worried. I might not be there, but I can still do my best to help.”

“Laurel, calm down.”

“No, listen—”

“Calm down! No one is doubting that you do everything for this family—it’s the reason everyone was so keen for you to take a break. You’ve been carrying a lot of stress—”

“So has everyone else!”

“I’m not arguing, but one of the things I realized when Flynn became ill, when I reconnected with Susannah is that there is more to life than business.” His voice softened. “You’ve gotten married, so you’ve discovered that, too. The news of your marriage to a man you’ve fallen for is way more important than a new business contact.”

Laurel couldn’t come up with a single argument against
what Matt was saying. Every word he spoke twisted deep in her chest. Her baby brother had become a romantic.

But what Matt didn’t understand was that she and Rakin hadn’t married for the same reasons as he and Susannah.

“Okay, I take your point,” she said slowly. “But before I call Mom, RJ and Lily, you need to know that you might also get a call from Zafar ibn Ahmeer Al-Abdellah. He’s interested in investing in the battery development. Look after him, he’s Rakin’s cousin.”

“Family
always
comes first.”

Laurel was still smiling when she set the phone down, Matt’s words ringing in her ears.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE
rest of the week passed in a haze of engagements.

Rakin kept his word. He’d introduced Laurel to a host of his business contacts. In return, she made sure that the fiction of their loving marriage was firmly in place whenever his family or the extended network of relations—was present.

There had been no repeat of that steamy night in Las Vegas.

And Laurel wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed about it. Despite her inner tension about her increasing awareness of him, her respect and even affection for Rakin was growing in leaps and bounds. Yet there was still a part of him that she couldn’t reach, a part that was closed away and tightly controlled.

They had been watching the sunset from one of the many balconies of the palace, when she took the plunge and asked Rakin, “Will we get a chance to see the desert any time soon?”

It was something she’d been hoping he would show her. In part, because the presence of the vast Diyafan Desert surrounded them in Rashad, but also because she had the strong sense that Rakin had been defined by the harsh beauty of the
world beyond the city. It was part of his psyche. By understanding his relationship to the ancient desert, she hoped to learn more about what made him tick.

Understanding Rakin had become increasingly important to her. Laurel was beginning to realize that he would forever be more than a stranger who had introduced to her to a world beyond her imaginings. Yet she could not yet put a name to the complex emotions he roused. There was liking… and laughter… and desire.

And something more.

Something that hovered maddeningly out of reach, defying her need to capture it… contain it… name it. It was something that had crept into her soul by small degrees until it was part of her.

“We could go any time you want.” Rakin rose from the carved olive wood chair where he’d been seated and, moving past her, he leaned against the stone balustrade, his back to the sunset. From this angle he formed a dark silhouette against the flaming sky. “You are eager to visit the desert?”

“Absolutely!” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Then we will go tomorrow.”

“But only if it suits,” she said quickly. “Only if your grandfather—”

The interruption was immediate. “I have done everything my grandfather could expect of me—and more.” There was pent-up frustration in his voice.

He’d even married her for his grandfather.

Rakin might not have said that, but the truth of it lay between them, a silent divide.

She glanced away before he glimpsed her thoughts.

The palace gardens were cloaked in falling darkness. Only the distinctive outlines of palms stood out against the pale gold of the desert sky. The first star had appeared, and a longing
to explore the world that lay beyond the city walls once more overtook Laurel.

“It will be my pleasure to show you our desert. I didn’t offer to play tour guide back at your sister’s wedding out of politeness.” Humor filled his voice, and it warmed Laurel as he drew her gaze back to his dark shape. “I wish to see it through your eyes—it will be a fresh glimpse. My own personal retreat is near Dahab, a settlement in the heart of the desert,” he added. “We will go there.”

“Another adventure!”

He inclined his head. “Of course. And I promise you it will be far more authentic than a black-glass pyramid fronted by a crouching sphinx.”

She gave him an amused look. “You didn’t find that exotic?”

Rakin shifted, and the sinking sun caught the movement as his mouth tugged into a smile. “Exotic maybe. Authentic, no.”

Gratitude for the experiences that he had already offered flooded her. Laurel found herself on her feet, in front of him. And, before she could consider her actions, she was saying, “Thank you.”

An eyebrow raised. “For what?”

“For giving me the opportunity to break free.”

“If it was important enough, you would’ve done it anyway.”

Laurel was shaking her head. “I’m not so sure I would ever have found the courage.”

“Because your family needs you?”

She looked down and didn’t answer.

Rakin could understand the pull of duty. It had dominated much of his life. “What about what you need?” he asked quietly, above her bowed head.

Her shoulders hunched up. “My needs…?”

“Yes. You have needs, too.”

The words reverberated through his head, assuming a double-edged meaning Rakin had not intended. A wild, sensual glimpse of needs very different from those he’d been alluding to taunted him. The memory of her face alight with excitement after the roller coaster ride flashed through his mind. The wild sounds she’d made when they made love…

She’d been animated in a way he’d never seen her. Alive. Held in a thrall that turned her beauty into something far more primal and caused want to leap through him.

“My needs are not important.” She spoke with a finality that told him she considered the topic closed.

Letting out the breath he’d unconsciously been holding, Rakin placed a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head up. Her eyes were turbulent with emotion. He forced himself to ignore the want that flared, and concentrate on the yearning in her eyes. “Your needs are very important. It’s time you start to put yourself first.”

Her gaze clung to his. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know.” The evening sun had turned her hair to a nimbus of auburn flame, and she looked breathtakingly lovely. But Rakin couldn’t allow himself to be sidetracked. “Eli said kindness is one of your best traits, but it may also be one of your greatest shortcomings, too.”

“That’s contradictory.”

Despite the dismissive words, all her attention remained fixed on him.

“No, it’s not. You’ve always done what everyone else wanted—even when it wasn’t best for you.” He heard her breath catch. “You haven’t been very kind to yourself.”

“It would be selfish to think of my own needs at a time my family should come first.”

“Only you can decide whether it would be selfish—
because only you know what you really want. Staying in Charleston, going through the motions of a life that isn’t what you dream of would’ve been condemning you to a half life.” His fingers still rested against her chin, and her lips parted. He ached to capture the softness of that sweet mouth. He thrust his desire down. Relentlessly he pressed on. “You need to be true to yourself.”

There was a pause. Finally she said in a low voice, “You’re saying that by doing what’s best for my family I’ve been dishonest.”

“I think that all your life you’ve done what you think others want—rather than what you truly desire.”

“I love my family—I love my job,” she protested.

“I’m sure you do. I’m not saying that you don’t,” he said gently, his fingers straying along her jawline in a caress. He wondered if she’d realized yet that she’d allowed that love to become a trap that was draining her of her vitality and life force. “But what you’ve proved to me is that you feel a need to escape from everyone’s perception of who Laurel Kincaid is. That can only be because you have a different vision of the real Laurel Kincaid. Don’t forget it’s your vision that matters.” Rakin knew she was still defined in terms of the Kincaid name. He bit back the urge to tell her she was an Abdellah now. His wife. And that he placed no constraints on whomever she chose to be. “Your vision. Not your mother’s. Not Eli’s. Not mine. Only yours.”

This time he watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

But what she said next startled him. “And you, Rakin? Are you loyal to the vision of what you most want?”

The helicopter descended to the desert below.

Rakin had wasted no time in putting the plan for them to visit Dahab into action. Through the bubble windows the
gold expanse of the sand rose up to meet them. What from the air had appeared as a barren stretch of nothing, now rearranged itself into a myriad of colors. Rocky outcrops with bent tamarind trees nestling at the base. Ahead, stone battlements clawed their way up against the outcrop.

Laurel spoke into the microphone built into the headphones that had muffled the noise of their journey. “This is your retreat? Good heavens, it looks like a fortress.”

“It was originally a fort.”

The helicopter cleared the high walls surrounding the edifice and dropped onto a helipad. Minutes later, the pilot came around and opened the door, and Laurel clambered out, keeping her head down until she’d cleared the slowing rotor blades.

Outside, the desert heat was dry and dusty.

She gazed about with interest.

Closer to the house—fort, she amended—water cascaded over rocks into pools adorned with lush plantings.

“It looks like an oasis.”

“It is an oasis. Come.” Rakin placed his hand under her elbow. “It will be cooler inside.”