“Hmm.” Lena pursed her lips. “Could you elaborate?”
Zandra sighed, picking at her salad. “Ever since he was discharged from the navy, he’s been different. Secretive. Don’t get me wrong. I’m no Pollyanna who’s naive about the realities of war. Remy was a SEAL, so I know he must have seen and done things over the years that’d give most people nightmares. But I can only speculate, because he’s never told me very much.”
“For what it’s worth,” Lena said quietly, “I think Roderick is the only one who knows the full story behind Remy’s discharge.”
“I know, and I’m not saying that I expect Remy to confide in me. But that part of him that he keeps locked away...” Zandra trailed off, grimly reflecting on her own demons and the emotional battle scars she bore. “He’s too intense and unpredictable. We’d consume each other if we ever became involved.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do.” Zandra frowned. “Besides, if he really wants to have a relationship with me, he sure has a funny way of showing it.”
“What do you mean?” Lena asked, deftly picking up a piece of salmon sushi with her chopsticks and popping it into her mouth.
Zandra’s frown deepened. “Before he left for Abu Dhabi, he asked me to set him up with one of my escorts.”
Lena stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Very.” Zandra stabbed at a green bean. “I couldn’t believe it. He’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in dating any of my girls. Why now?”
Lena smiled. “Maybe he’s trying to make you jealous.”
Zandra snorted. “As if.”
An intuitive gleam entered Lena’s eyes. “So you’re not jealous?”
“Of course not. Remington Brand is a grown man, and I’m a businesswoman. If he wants to go out with one of my escorts and he can afford to pay for the pleasure of her company, who am I to stop him? Am I baffled by his sudden interest in my girls? Of course. But am I jealous? Hell, no.”
“Well,” Lena drawled, “that poor legume on your plate might beg to differ.”
Following the direction of Lena’s amused gaze, Zandra saw that she’d totally pulverized the green bean with her fork. As an embarrassed flush crawled up her neck and spread across her face, Lena grinned knowingly.
“If that’s what you do to food when you’re not jealous...”
Zandra scowled, then reached for her glass and took a gulp of water. Needing something stronger, she signaled for the waiter. When he bustled over, she ordered a margarita, heavy on the tequila.
Lena watched her with amused sympathy. “If it bothers you this much for Remy to go out with one of the girls, why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
“Because it doesn’t bother me,” Zandra stubbornly insisted.
Lena looked skeptical. “Doesn’t it?”
Zandra sniffed. “Not at all.”
And she knew just how to prove it.
*