“They didn’t give me much time to plan since they made their engagement announcement just after Christmas, but I’m pleased with the results. I hope they are, too.”
“I’m sure they are, although they can only see each other.” Lucy Ann’s stomach tightened, remembering her mother’s adoring looks for each new man.
“To think they were professional adversaries for so long...now the sparks between them are so tangible I’m thinking I didn’t need to order the firework display for a finale.”
Lucy Ann pulled a tight smile, doing her best to be polite. “Romance is in the air.”
“I hope this isn’t going too late for you and the little guy.” She flicked her red hair over her shoulder. “You must be exhausted from your flight.”
“He’s asleep. We’ll be fine.” If she left, Elliot would feel obligated to leave, as well. And right now she was too emotionally raw to be alone with him. Surely Hillary had to have some idea of how difficult this was for her, since the alum buddies had been party to the kidnapping.
Her eyes slid to the clutch of pals, the five men who’d been sent to a military reform school together.
Their bond was tight. Unbreakable.
They stood together at the beachside under a cabana wearing matching tuxedos, all five of them too damn rich and handsome for their own good. Luckily for the susceptible female population, the other four were now firmly taken, married and completely in love with their brides. The personification of bad boys redeemed, but still edgy.
Exciting.
The Alpha Brotherhood rarely gathered in one place, but when they did, they were a sight to behold. They’d all landed in trouble with the law as teens, but they’d been sent to a military reform school rather than juvie. Computer whiz Troy Donavan had broken into the Department of Defense’s computer system to expose corruption. Casino magnate Conrad Hughes had used insider trading tips to manipulate the stock market. He’d only barely redeemed himself by tanking corporations that used child-labor sweatshops in other countries. World famous soft rock/jazz musician Malcolm Douglas had been sent away on drug charges as a teenager, although she’d learned later that he’d been playing the piano in a bar underage and got nabbed in the bust.
The groom—Dr. Rowan Boothe—had a history a bit more troubled. He’d been convicted of driving while drunk. He’d been part of an accident he’d taken the blame for so his overage brother wouldn’t go to jail—then his brother had died a year later driving drunk into a tree. Now Rowan used all his money to start clinics in third-world countries.
They all had their burdens to bear, and that guilt motivated them to make amends now. Through their freelance work with Interpol. Through charitable donations beyond anything anyone would believe unless they saw the accounting books.
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