Tessa Radley - The Kincaids - Private Mergers - One Dance with the Sheikh

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 little 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.

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