“Not crazy,” Skylar corrected. “Jealous. Insanely jealous. Remy is hot as hell, Zandra. And even though women have been practically throwing themselves at him since he got here, he only has eyes for you. Not that anyone could blame him,” she added, her eyes glinting as she looked Zandra over. “I’m as straight as they come, and I wanna fuck you in that dress.”
When Zandra nearly spit out her champagne, Skylar threw back her head and pealed with laughter.
Zandra dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her fingertips. “You are in rare form tonight.”
Skylar sighed. “I know.”
They paused to smile and pose for a photographer from the Tribune. As soon as the man moved on, Skylar grinned mischievously at Zandra.
“So give up the goods. Did something happen between you and Remy during your trip to St. Lucia?”
Sipping her wine, Zandra glanced over her shoulder at Colin. He was nodding and smiling politely as Enid Roche told him all about the museum’s two-year expansion project.
She smiled wryly. “I should probably go rescue my date.”
Skylar gave her a knowing look. “Nice evasion. But I’ll let you off the hook this time. Speaking of your date...” She paused, lips pursed as she appraised Colin through narrowed eyes. “He’s a cutie. But he’s not your type.”
Zandra scowled, because Remy had made the same remark to her. “Why isn’t he my type?” she challenged.
Skylar snorted. “He’s not alpha enough for you. You’d chew him up and spit him back out.”
Zandra couldn’t deny it. As much as she’d enjoyed Colin’s company over dinner on Friday, she’d known by the end of the date that they could never work as a couple. Which was a shame, because he really was a nice guy.
“You need a bad boy,” Skylar told her. “Someone with an edge. Someone dangerous.”
Zandra frowned, naturally thinking of Remy. They didn’t come any more dangerous than him. He’d been a street fighter for as long as she’d known him. The U.S. Navy had sharpened his rough edges and honed him into an elite assassin who could kill with lethal precision. He had the medals to show for it, along with commendations for covert operations the public would never know about.
For the nine years that he’d been away fighting wars and doing God only knows what else, Zandra had secretly worried about him. She’d lived in fear of receiving a phone call from Roderick—it would have to be Roderick—telling her that Remy had been killed in the line of duty. Even now, whenever he traveled for business, she didn’t breathe easy until he was back home, safe and sound.
Two days ago, when she’d tuned into BBC news and heard reports of a gunfight in Abu Dhabi, her heart had plummeted into her stomach. She’d only calmed down after she made some phone calls and talked to Roderick, who was always the first to know what was going on with his twin. According to Roderick, Remy and his men had taken out a group of extremists who’d tried to ambush them as they escorted their clients to a business meeting. All of the terrorists had been killed.
Zandra had calmly thanked Roderick for the information, hung up the phone, then choked back a sob of relief.
“You need someone who’s bossy and unpredictable,” Skylar was saying. “The kind of man who’d grab you without warning, bend you over and fuck you senseless, then chain you to a wall and have his wicked way with you until you passed out.”
Zandra laughed. “Don’t project your BDSM fantasies onto me,” she teased, even as her body heated at the memory of her scorchingly erotic encounters with Remy. Even when she was on top, he’d dictated the pace of their lovemaking. But he wasn’t a selfish lover. Far from it. He was fiercely attuned to her needs and desires, and he gave her more pleasure than she’d ever thought her body could experience.
As her clit tingled, Zandra let her gaze wander through the crowd until she located Remy. He and Noelani were laughing and chatting with two other couples. Noelani had her hand tucked into the crook of Remy’s arm, her head resting coquettishly on his broad shoulder.