Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(8)

“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.”

“Ah, but two minutes can be a lifetime.”

Remy smirked. “Is that what you tell Lena every night?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”