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?”
