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.