Sipping his beer, he surveyed the tranquil scene below him, mentally adding it to the collection of images that had gotten him through the darkest days of battle and bloodshed, when he’d succumbed to rare moments of wondering whether he would ever see his family again.
He watched as his nieces and nephews chased one another up and down the beach, their squeals of laughter like music to his ears. He smiled at the sight of his older sister and her husband strolling along the shore holding hands, while the image of his mother and grandmother with their heads bent close together made him wonder what they were plotting.
He chuckled at the sounds of raucous laughter and banter coming from the table where his older brother, father, grandfather and Cleveland Morrison were playing gin rummy.
Farther down the beach, Racquel danced with one of the dreadlocked cabana boys who’d caught her eye during dinner, while River put the moves on Lena’s younger sister, Morgan, his hands spanning her slender waist as they gyrated to the pulsing soca beats.
Zandra and Lena stood by the water letting the foaming waves wash over their bare feet as they laughed and talked. Wearing white halter dresses with red hibiscus flowers tucked behind their ears, they looked like some artist’s rendering of beautiful island nymphs romping through a tropical paradise.
Captivated, Remy watched as Zandra arched her head back and closed her eyes, savoring the ocean breeze that tossed her hair about her face and shoulders.
He stared at her, his heart knocking against his ribs.
“Damn, boy,” drawled a deep voice laced with amused sympathy. “You got it bad.”
Remy dragged his gaze from Zandra to watch as Roderick climbed up the boulder and sat beside him.
Ignoring his brother’s teasing remark, Remy took a swig of beer and grunted, “Where’d you disappear to after dinner?”
“I went to see the hotel manager. Had to confirm some details for a surprise I’m planning for Lena tomorrow night.” Roderick grinned. “Don’t change the subject. I saw the way you were staring at Zandra just now.”
Remy flashed a narrow, insolent smile. “How do you know I wasn’t staring at your wife?”
Roderick snorted. “Because you don’t have a death wish. Not anymore anyway.”
Remy chuckled grimly, remembering the words Roderick had spoken to him the day he came home and announced that he was headed to Coronado Island to undergo BUD/S training to become a Navy SEAL. Upon hearing the news, Roderick—who knew Remy better than anyone and had always supported his dream of joining the SEALs—looked him in the eye and stated half seriously, “You must have a death wish.”
Remy had escaped death, but only by the grace of God.
“Oh, yeah,” Roderick said now, “I have something for you.” Reaching into the pocket of his linen pants, he removed a small white napkin and handed it to Remy.
“What’s this?”
“A booty call from some woman who approached me in the lobby. She told me to stop by her room later if I wanted another Hole in One.” Roderick chuckled. “She obviously thought I was you.”
Remy glanced down at the lipstick-marked napkin, his mind flashing on an image of the attractive woman who’d sent him a drink earlier while he and Zandra were lying on the beach. He remembered the way Zandra had reacted, snatching the glass out of his hand and dumping the contents into the sand. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn she was jealous.
Observing his private smile, Roderick cocked a brow. “You interested?”
Remy hesitated, contemplating the napkin. Beneath the red lipstick kiss, the woman had written her name, cell phone and room number along with the words Come see me.
Why shouldn’t he? He was on an exotic Caribbean island surrounded by beautiful women. It’d be a damn travesty if he went home in two days without getting laid. But there was only one woman he wanted to make love to, and she bolted every time he went anywhere near her.
Scowling at the thought, Remy balled up the napkin and shoved it into his pocket.
Roderick eyed him sympathetically. “So the self-imposed drought continues, huh?”
Remy grunted, tipping back his bottle to drain the last of his beer. It had been four months since he’d had sex—an eternity for a guy with a healthy libido who’d always enjoyed the pleasures of the female flesh. But since making the discovery that Zandra was his soul mate, he’d lost his appetite for meaningless affairs with women whose names and faces tended to blur together. His last hookup had been with a leggy bank manager he’d met at a bar. After doing the unpardonable—groaning Zandra’s name during sex—he’d decided it was time to take a step back and get his shit together before his obsession with Zandra got him stabbed by the wrong woman.
“So when are you going to tell her how you feel?” Roderick asked him.
Remy stared across the beach to where Zandra and his niece Mackenzie knelt by the water picking up seashells that had washed ashore. The sweetly poignant image made his chest ache.
“I’ll tell her when she’s ready,” he murmured.
“How do you know she isn’t ready now?” Roderick countered.
“Because I know her. And she isn’t.”
Roderick pondered that for a moment. “I think you should tell her anyway. Get it out in the open.”
Remy grimaced. “So she can run even further away from me? No, thanks.”
“You might be surprised. Look, Rem, you and Zandra have been in each other’s lives forever. You know her better than any other guy, and she knows you better than any woman you’ve ever been with. Is it really so hard for you to believe that she just might return your feelings?”
Remy was silent, his eyes wandering back to Zandra. She and Lena were strolling away from the water, their sandals dangling from their fingertips.
As if sensing Remy’s gaze, Zandra suddenly lifted her head and looked right at him, as though she’d been aware of his location the whole time.
His pulse thudded as they stared at each other.
After several beats, Zandra shifted her gaze to Roderick and gave him the winsome smile that should have been Remy’s. When Roderick grinned back at her, Remy felt homicidal.
Following the line of Zandra’s vision, Lena beamed and blew a kiss at her husband, who pretended to catch it, tip back his head and drop it into his mouth. Lena laughed.
Remy rolled his eyes.
As the two women moved on, he muttered to Roderick, “I don’t know what nauseated me more. That little exchange, or your sappy speech over dinner.”
Roderick grinned, hooking an arm around Remy’s neck and giving him a noogie before Remy laughingly shoved him away.
Though identical twins, the two brothers were so different that friends and family members humorously referred to Roderick as the “more civilized version” of Remy. Roderick was polished, charming and debonair, favoring a dirty martini with three olives while Remy’s drink of choice was a good lager that put hair on your chest. Roderick smoked premium Cuban cigars, while Remy had been known to chew tobacco and light up a blunt to calm his jagged nerves. Roderick wore expensive Italian suits and loafers, while Remy was most comfortable in battered leather jackets, camouflage pants and combat boots. Roderick was GQ to Remy’s Guns & Ammo, James Bond to his Rambo.
Though their personalities were as opposite as night and day, what they both possessed in abundance was confidence, an iron will and the innate swagger of alpha males who were accustomed to getting whatever they liked, any way they wanted.
Roderick had gotten the woman of his dreams.
Now it was Remy’s turn, damn it.
“You’ve been pining over Zandra for the past two years,” Roderick drawled, as if he’d read Remy’s mind. “Sooner or later you’re gonna have to make your move.”
Remy grunted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Roderick chuckled. “Seriously, man. You should listen to me. I’m older and wiser.”
Remy snorted. “You’re two minutes older.”
Remy smirked. “Is that what you tell Lena every night?”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
Remy grinned. “You have to admit you walked right into that one.”
“Maybe,” Roderick conceded with a lazy smile, “but I’ll let it pass this time because I know you’re just jealous.”
Remy cocked a brow at him. “Jealous of who? You?”
“Yup. ’Cause I’m getting some—and you ain’t.”
Remy scowled, incensed because his brother was right. “Screw you,” he grumbled.
Roderick laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Anyway, I did my part by getting Za-Za here. The rest is up to you.”
Remy sighed. “I know. And...thanks for everything.”
“Hey, what are twins for?” Roderick grinned, his dark gaze traveling across the beach. “Look at Papa Dez getting down with your woman.”
Remy turned his head, grinning when he saw their grandfather dancing with Zandra. Desmond Brand—a tall, broad-shouldered, eighty-year-old man with meticulously groomed white hair and mustache—drew cheers and applause from the gathered crowd as he shuffled his feet and swayed his arthritic hips to the calypso music. When he dipped Zandra low, Remy and Roderick roared with approval and laughter and high-fived each other.
“I wanna be just like that old man when I grow up,” Roderick proclaimed.
“Hell, yeah.” Grinning broadly, Remy stood. “Come on. We’re missing the party.”
They climbed down from the boulder and sauntered across the beach. As they reached the others, the band struck up a slow number that lured the couples onto the dance floor.
As Grandma Eleanor teasingly reclaimed her husband, Remy approached Zandra. Her face was flushed and her eyes were glowing.
He held out his hand to her. “Dance with me.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. She’d had the same panicked look when he’d asked her to dance at Roderick and Lena’s wedding reception. But as a bridesmaid, she’d known that she couldn’t refuse to dance with the best man without raising some eyebrows.
Thankfully she didn’t refuse now.
As Remy pulled her into his embrace, she slipped her arms around his neck. As her soft, luscious breasts melted into his chest, he stifled a groan of pleasure and closed his eyes. His arms circled her waist, his hands resting just above the plump curve of her ass. She was the perfect height for him—not too short or tall. Just right.
Like everything else about her.
As they began swaying together, he bent his head to murmur in her ear, “I bet you made my grandfather feel thirty years younger.”
Zandra smiled. “Grandma Eleanor already does that for him.”
“True,” Remy agreed, following the direction of her gaze. He smiled when he saw his grandparents grinning affectionately at each other as they slow danced. “They’re amazing. Married sixty years and still going strong.”
“I know,” Zandra marveled softly. “Your parents are pretty remarkable, too, going on forty years. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”
“Neither can I,” Remy murmured, “but I hope to find out someday. Don’t you?”
Zandra met his probing gaze for a long moment, then glanced down, her black lashes shadowing her high cheekbones. She didn’t answer him.
They danced in silence, their bodies moving as one to the rhythmic purr of steel drums. A gentle breeze blew tendrils of Zandra’s hair across Remy’s face, a soft caress. He could feel the heat of her skin beneath her lightweight dress. And the scent of her, exotic fruit and sultry woman, was an intoxicating aphrodisiac.
His hands tightened around her hips, tilting her closer. He heard her breath quicken, felt her nipples pucker against his chest. Blood rushed to his groin. If his family hadn’t been around, he would have palmed her curvy butt cheeks and ground himself against her.
All too soon the slow song ended, melting into an up-tempo soca number.
Zandra backed out of Remy’s arms, but to his immense relief she didn’t walk away or look for another partner. Holding his gaze, she stepped right into the dance, rolling her hips with a mesmerizing sensuality that took his breath away.
They moved rhythmically together, rocking from side to side, grooving and winding as the music pulsed between them.
When an electronic chord sizzled through the song, Remy dipped Zandra backward, then twirled her around. The hem of her dress flew up, teasing him with a glimpse of her smooth bare thighs.
He licked his lips, his dick hardening painfully when he thought of those luscious thighs wrapped around his back as he thrust into her. Blood pumping, adrenaline soaring, he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her into his arms.
When she felt his erection against her belly, Zandra’s eyes widened in surprise.
And then came the panic.
When she tried to step away from him, Remy pulled her closer, trapping her against his aroused body.
Lips tightening with anger, she raised her arms and pushed at his chest.
This time he let her go, reluctant to cause a scene.
They stood staring at each other, chests rising and falling rapidly, heat and need throbbing between them.
“I want you,” Remy said, low and husky. “And you want me, too.”
Her eyes darkened. She knew better than to deny it.
But as the music ended, she turned and hurried away.
Clenching his jaw, he glanced around, encountering the sympathetic stares of his siblings, parents and grandparents.
Be patient, his mother mouthed encouragingly.
Remy just nodded.
But patience was something he was losing—and fast.
Zandra tried to keep her distance from Remy for the rest of the evening.
She had to.
Because the more time she spent in his presence, the more her resistance eroded, to the extent that she’d begun inventing rationalizations for why he would make a better partner than a stranger for an island fling.
He was her closest friend, she reasoned, so she didn’t have to worry about him giving her an STD, robbing her or lying to her about not having a wife and kids stashed somewhere. And since he knew her so well, he might have a better idea of how to please her sexually than a complete stranger would.
It was madness. Absolute madness.
Around ten o’clock, nearly everyone retired to their hotel rooms for the night. Zandra stayed on the beach, having drinks with Racquel and Morgan. Remy and River stood outside the tent, smoking cigars and shooting the breeze with one of the friendly resort employees, who invited all of them to accompany him to a popular island nightspot. Zandra declined the invitation, joking that she’d done enough dancing for one night.
When Remy agreed to go to the club, she told herself she didn’t care that he would be dancing with other women, sensually grinding against their undulating bodies as sweat glistened on their skin. She told herself it wouldn’t matter to her if he met an exotic island beauty and chose to spend the night with her, or if he fell hard for her and convinced her to return to Chicago with him.
She told herself these lies as she assured everyone that she’d rather stay behind, then watched them depart for the club, smiling as Racquel playfully hopped onto Remy’s back and looped her arms around his neck.
When one of the cabana boys sidled up to the table and began flirting shamelessly with Zandra, she decided it was time to leave. But instead of returning to her room, she struck out across the beach, hoping that a moonlit stroll along the shore would help clear her mind before she went to bed.
As she walked, she passed more than a few couples holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes as they enjoyed a leisurely romantic stroll. It was hard for Zandra not to envy them, harder still to pretend that she didn’t long for the company of someone special. Someone who would hold her hand and make her feel warm inside as he walked close beside her.
You could have had th
at someone, an inner voice taunted. But you pushed him away.
Shaking off the unnerving thought—and an accompanying pang of regret—Zandra quickened her stride. As she ventured farther from the hotel, she saw lights glowing from the windows of cozy cottages nestled into the cliff side. She decided that the next time she visited St. Lucia, she’d find a rental property so that she could stay longer and enjoy the beautiful island.
“Zandra.”
The sound of the low, deep voice had her leaping from her skin before she whirled around, her feet spinning in sand. She was stunned to find Remy standing there, seemingly materializing out of thin air.
“Damn it, Remy!” she screeched, staring wildly at him as her heart pounded against her ribs. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “I was trying not to scare you, which is why I called your name first.”
“Well, it didn’t work,” Zandra snapped.
“Apparently not.”
As Remy stepped closer to her, the heat of his body invaded hers, sending electric currents through her blood and raising the fine hairs on her skin. Her body had been calling out for him ever since she’d abruptly ended their dance, which had been nothing more than a prelude to seduction. She’d known it, and so had he.
She pulled in a shaky breath and tucked her windblown hair behind one ear as Remy watched her quietly. “How long have you been following me?”
“Long enough to wonder how much farther you plan to walk. Or haven’t you noticed that you’ve gone pretty far from the hotel?”
Zandra glanced down the beach, surprised to see that he was right. She shrugged nonchalantly. “What’s your point?”
“My point,” he drawled wryly, “is that it’s not safe for you to go wandering off alone at night on a strange island. You should stay closer to the hotel where it’s well lit.”
Zandra heaved an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Daddy.”
Remy chuckled, the sound drifting through the moonlit darkness like tendrils of smoke. “Mock all you want, but you know I’m right.”
She rolled her eyes. “What I know, Remy, is that you see danger lurking in every shadow.”
Any Way You Want It Page 3
