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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.”
    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