Easier said than done.
Laurel couldn’t dampen her awareness of their linked hands, and she finally slid her hand out of his and came to a stop when a familiar skyline materialized ahead.
“New York?” The Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building were interspersed with other landmark buildings. This was his idea of more action? But she had to admit the replica skyscrapers were impressive. “Oh, wow, there’s the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“The buildings are about a third of actual life size,” Rakin informed her. “But it’s not the sight of the buildings that will give you the adrenaline rush I promised.”
“New York–New York? A rollercoaster?” she gasped moments later.
“Why not?” He shot her a taunting look. “Scared?”
Even if she had been, his all-too-male I-dare-you expression would have forced her to bite her lip. She’d told him that she craved adventure, so there was no way she was going to back down now.
She stuck up her chin. “Of course not. I love rides.”
Love was a slight exaggeration. She hadn’t been on a ride in years. A quick calculation left Laurel astonished by exactly how long it had been since she’d last experienced such a ride. Where had the years gone? And, more to the point, where had her sense of fun gone? When had she let herself become so staid … so boring? When had she forgotten that there was a world out there beyond the confines of her family and the demands of public relations for The Kincaid Group?
“At least I did love them once upon a time,” she added a little more dubiously, hoping that her youthful infatuation with roller coasters would return by the time they reached the start.
“The track twists between the skyscrapers—” Rakin jerked a thumb in the direction of the buildings “—rising to two hundred feet between the buildings.”
“Thanks! That’s very comforting to know.”
“It reaches speeds of over sixty-five miles per hour—and there’s a place where the train drops a hundred and forty-four feet.”
The last snippet of information gave her pause. “Are you deliberately trying to frighten me?”
“I’d never do such a thing.” But the twitch of his lips gave him away.
Humor rushed through her like champagne bubbles rising. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
“Any adventure needs a good case of butterflies to start it off—dread heightens anticipation.”
That sealed it. “You are trying to scare me—wicked man!”
She advanced on him, brandishing her purse.
Rakin grabbed her wrists before she could take a swing at him, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “Are you having fun?”
She stilled. Lowering her purse, she glanced quickly around. How quickly she’d forgotten to behave with the dignity that befitted the eldest Kincaid daughter. Embarrassment swept over her; then she banished it. Who amongst the hordes knew her? And who would even care? Freedom followed in a dizzying burst.
With wonder she said, “Yes, I’m having a fantastic time.”
She skipped into line beside Rakin.
“The trains look like yellow New York taxicabs—complete with hoods and headlights.” She thought they looked delightful, and not at all frightening.
“We’re in luck, we’re going to get front seats,” said Rakin, as an attendant ushered them forward.
Once seated in the front row with the restraints securely fastened, Laurel’s enthusiasm waned at the unobstructed view of the red track ahead. Luck? Maybe not. As the train started forward her heart rose into her throat. “Rakin, what recklessness possessed me to do this?”
“You’re going to love it.” Rakin’s eyes gleamed with humor.
But Laurel was no longer so sure. Ahead of them the track climbed to the height of Everest. The train chugged up, and with each foot they progressed the butterflies that Rakin had stirred up broke free of their chrysalis in Laurel’s stomach and started to flutter madly.
They crested the top of the rise.
Laurel caught a glimpse of the Las Vegas skyline laid out in front of them. In the distance, hills undulated in a long curve.
The train gathered momentum.
“Oh, my heavens!”
Rakin’s hand closed around hers. Before she could catch her breath, they were hurtling down. Then they were rising…. The next plunge downward left Laurel’s stomach somewhere in the sky above them. Air left her lungs in a silent scream. She could hear Rakin laughing beside her.
Ahead, high above, she glimpsed a complete loop of red track.
“Noooo …” she moaned.
She gripped Rakin’s hand until her fingers hurt.
The train swooped into the upward curve of the loop. Tension, tight and terrifying, clawed at her body. Laurel could hear screams behind her. For a disconcerting instant the world turned over, hovered, blue sky flashing below them in a spinning blur; then everything righted itself. They sped down into a series of tight heart-hammering curves that pressed her thigh up against Rakin’s.
A wild euphoria exploded inside her.
The Statue of Liberty flashed past, and Laurel found herself laughing. Moments later the train shot into womb-like darkness.
Rakin murmured something beside her, but the sound of her heart hammering in her head drowned it out. Her hand was still gripping his, and Laurel realized her nails must be digging into his palm. Hot, awkward embarrassment flooded her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, letting go.
“It didn’t worry me.”
“I appreciated the loan,” she said lightly, and Rakin chuckled in response.
Gradually her eyes adjusted until she was able to make out lights and shapes of an underground station. Noise surrounded her—the attendant’s cheery greeting as he freed her from the safety restraint, the clatter of trains on the track.
When they emerged from the front seats Laurel’s legs felt like Jell-O. But sheer exhilaration propelled her forward.
“You were right, I loved it!”
Laurel didn’t care that she sounded breathless as she spun around to grin giddily at Rakin through the cloud of hair that had whipped around her face during the thrill ride. Right now she felt high on joy—prepared to take on the world. Anything he wanted to throw at her, she was game for. The surge of strength—the feeling that she could do whatever she wanted—was supremely empowering. Getting a life …
Yet Rakin wasn’t even breathing hard. And, what’s more, not even one dark hair had strayed out of place. A wicked urge to see him look a little rumpled stole through her.
“Again,” she challenged. “I want to do it again.”
It was evening, and the observation deck on the fiftieth floor of Paris Las Vegas’s Eiffel Tower was deserted.
Rakin felt Laurel go still beneath the hand he’d placed across her back to usher her from the glass elevator.
“How beautiful,” she breathed, and gestured to the warm, dusky light that turned the observation deck to burnished bronze. “It’s like being in a capsule of gold.”
He watched indulgently as she picked her way along the observation deck, her high heels tapping against the steel, to take in the dramatic view of the city stretching to the purpling mountains in the distance.
Laurel