One

      Xander Lourdes had loved and lost his soul mate.

      Parked in an Adirondack chair by the Gulf waters, he knew deep in his gut he wouldn’t find that again. Even after a year, his wife’s death from an aneurysm cut Xander to the core, but he’d been working like hell to find solace as best he could in honoring her memory every way possible.

      By parenting their baby girl.

      And by revitalizing a wildlife refuge in his dead wife’s beloved Florida Keys. He’d invested half of his personal fortune to revitalize this place. No great hardship as far as the executive angle went. He thrived on that part.

      Although the fundraising parties? Like tonight? The endless schmoozing? A real stick in the eye. His preferred way to spend an evening was with his daughter, Rose, or in the office. These social gatherings tried his patience. For a moment his mind wandered back to how his wife had always stabilized and smoothed functions like this for him. She’d been a natural complement for him.

      For his wife’s memory, he endured the beachside gala.

      Xander drank tonic water, half listening to the state politician rambling beside him about a childhood pet parakeet. Small talk had never been Xander’s thing.

      Waves crashed on the shore and a bonfire crackled at the high-end outdoor fundraiser. Tiki torch flames flickered, reaching toward the starlit sky as a steel-drum band played. Marshes swooshed with softer sounds in the distance, grasses and nocturnal creatures creating a night ensemble all their own.

      A lengthy buffet table and bar kept the partygoers well stocked by the waitstaff currently weaving through the crowd of partiers talking or dancing barefoot on the sand, silk and diamonds glinting in the moonlight, tuxedo ties loosened. His brother—the head veterinarian—and his sexy-as-hell lady assistant led the dancing. The redheaded zoologist was just the sort to keep the party going.

      Xander’s wife, Terri, hadn’t been much for dancing, but she’d loved music. When they’d found out she was pregnant, her first reaction was to track down a special device to play classical music for their baby in the womb. Music, she believed, could change a person’s life—convey emotions stronger than any other type of language. This belief had also prompted her to find compilations for the animals at the refuge to soothe them. Terri had been his calm and support since they were in first grade, when Xander had been labeled an outcast for already performing three grade levels above the others.

      They’d been inseparable since she approached him on the playground that first day and he’d missed her every minute since she’d died.

      His daughter—Terri’s legacy—meant everything to him.

      Washing down the lump in his throat with another swallow of tonic water, he nodded at something or other the politician said about expanding the bird care portion of the refuge’s clinic. Xander tucked the info away for later. At least he had the executive power and the portfolio to make that happen, to control something in a world that had denied him control over so damn much.

      There was no space tonight for thinking about that now. It wouldn’t help the cause his wife had devoted so much time and energy to.

      Her volunteer work here had been important to her. When Xander’s brother had started at the refuge, Terri’s interest ignited. And then she’d discovered her passion, starting foundations to try to channel more funds into reviving the place.

      His brother, Easton, oversaw the medical aspect of the refuge as an exotic animal veterinarian with a staff of techs and zoologists. Easton had worked here back in the early days, more concerned with animals than with the money he could make at a bigger, tourist-trap outfit. Xander had supported the refuge’s efforts with donations, but now his interest was more personal and yet also more professional. He’d been elected chairman of the board of directors. Terri had wanted him to take that role for years and now she would never know he’d fulfilled her hope that he could grow the refuge.

      Damn.

      He’d had enough of small talk.

      Xander shoved out of his chair. “I appreciate your taking the time to chat and attend. If you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to some business, but my brother would thoroughly enjoy talking to you about those clinic additions. I’ll get Easton off the dance floor for you.”

      Making a beeline for his brother who was still dancing with the fire-headed zoologist, Xander shouldered through the partiers, nodding and waving without stopping until he reached the throng of dancers. He tapped Easton on the shoulder.

      “Mind if I cut in, brother?”

      His eccentric younger brother turned on his heel, his forehead creased, a trickle of sweat beading on his brow. “What’s up?”

      Easton wore the Prada suit Xander had made sure was delivered for the occasion, but his brother hadn’t bothered with a tie. No surprise. Dr. Easton Lourdes had always been more comfortable in khakis and T-shirts.

      Xander tipped his head toward the politician still knocking back mixed drinks. “Donor at your nine o’clock. Needs your expertise on possible additions to the aviary in the clinic.”

      His brother’s forehead smoothed and his face folded in a smile, all charm. “Can do.” He clapped Xander on the shoulder. “Thanks again for this shindig. It’s going to pay off big for the place.”

      Easton charged past like a man on a mission, leaving his dance partner on the floor alone.

      Maureen Burke.

      An auburn-haired bombshell, full of brains and energy. She was an Irish native who’d spent much of her life in the States, so her brogue was light. Her degree in zoology along with her rescue experience made her the perfect second-in-command for his brother. Lucky for them she’d received her work visa at exactly the right time. She was extroverted, but also all business. And a woman Xander didn’t have to worry was out to take advantage of the Lourdes family fortune passed down for generations. A portfolio Xander had doubled and that women were attracted to when it came to dating Easton.

      Maureen was an individual guaranteed not to mistake Easton’s attention as interest and an invitation to leave ten voice mails. Maureen was much like Xander when it came to romance.

      Not interested.

      He’d learned she was divorced and, from her standoffish demeanor just beneath that plush-lipped smile, he got the impression it hadn’t been a pleasant split. No doubt the man had been an idiot to let such a gorgeous, intelligent woman walk out of his life.

      Xander extended his hand. “Sorry to have stolen your dance partner. I had to send my brother off. Dance with me.”

      “Dance? With you?” She swept her long red curls back over her shoulder, her face flushed from heat and exertion.

      “Is that such a strange request?”

      “I didn’t expect you to know how to dance, much less to know an Irish jig.”

      He winced. “An Irish jig?”

      She grinned impishly, gesturing to the stage with elegant hands, nails short but painted a glittering gold for the party. “Next up on the band’s request list. Your brother double-dog dared me.”

      Double-dog dare? No wonder Easton had left the dance floor so easily and with a grin on his face. He’d set Xander up.

      And Xander wasn’t one