by Jess Dee
She shrugged. “I like my waffles.”
“I like Chelsea,” Levi retaliated.
“You like anything with breasts,” Theo threw in. “James excluded.”
“Oi! These aren’t breasts.” James puffed out his chest. “They’re pecs. And it took a shitload of hard work to get them to this size, so don’t go taking the piss.”
Ava rubbed her hand over the front of his shirt. “Silicone implants?” she asked.
“Rugby and weights, babe.” James cast an amused glance at her hand. “Having fun feeling me up?”
“Oh, I am. It’s like caressing a teddy bear. All soft and lumpy.”
Spencer had to laugh at James’s incensed look. The man was built like a brick shithouse.
Levi, in the meantime, had twisted around in his seat to look at Chelsea. He whistled softly. “It’s not just about sex, Spence.” His voice was low enough for Spencer to realize Levi wasn’t joking. “Not with Chelsea. I…like her.”
Spencer’s gut churned.
As the Three-F rule implied, Levi dug women. He thrived on the thrill of the chase and the triumph of victory. He enjoyed the rush of an orgasm at night and the freedom of his bachelor status in the morning. But he never hung around long enough to form lasting bonds of affection with any of his conquests.
So his admission to liking Chelsea told Spencer only one thing. Levi was deadly serious. And if Levi was deadly serious about liking the woman Spencer seriously liked, they were going to have a problem.
Chelsea couldn’t bite back the grin that pulled at the corners of her mouth. Ten minutes was all it had taken to put her in the best mood. And turn her body into a mass of aroused goo.
Okay, so it wasn’t so much ten minutes as two men.
Spencer and Levi.
The first time she’d laid eyes on Spencer, her heart had done a crazy little dance. It was as though a light had been switched on, illuminating one critical factor. She recognized him.
She didn’t know him, know him. They’d never met, but something deep inside her dancing heart had identified him as special. Given the opportunity, she would have twisted galaxies to get to know him better.
The opportunity, however, had been usurped by two issues. Firstly, she’d been involved with another man at the time. And secondly—and more importantly, she’d met Levi about five minutes after meeting Spencer.
As quickly as lightening had struck when she’d laid eyes on Spencer, so it had hit again when Levi took his seat at Spencer’s side. Her heart had repeated that wild, jagged dance, and a sudden wave of dizziness had turned her knees to jelly.
Knowing her first priority was to her boyfriend, she’d harnessed her wild emotions and gotten on with her life and her relationship.
She shouldn’t have bothered.
The loser ex hadn’t possessed the fortitude to stick it out in the long run. He’d complained about her unusual working hours keeping her away from him at night and split.
Which had left Chelsea free to pursue either Spencer or Levi. But at that point, Chelsea had faced two whole new problems. She couldn’t choose between the two men, and she refused to come between what was obviously a very close friendship.
For months now, Chelsea had perved over them both from a distance, acting the consummate professional whenever she saw them and aching for them at night whenever she dreamed about them.
When Spencer had offered to do her taxes, Chelsea had found she couldn’t refuse him. Nor did she did want to. If the truth be told, her heart was dancing crazily all over again, and yes, her knees were a wobbly mess.
But she didn’t have a chance to give in to the wobbling. Not when Levi approached, his tight, black T-shirt highlighting a gorgeous pair of shoulders and hinting at a ripped chest. His chest wasn’t the only thing ripped. Threadbare jeans had surrendered to tearing at the knees.
“Anything I can do for you?” she asked of the sexy blonde. His hair hadn’t seen the inside of a barbershop for months. It was long and rumpled and so darn appealing Chelsea itched to run her fingers through it. “Besides walk down the aisle, I mean.” Yeah, she could laugh at his teasing, but a secret part of her thrilled at the idea of marrying him.
Levi held up his hands in surrender. “No more proposals tonight. Promise.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “I had to sneak over here so my…delightful female friends didn’t have a chance to share any more of their effusive opinions of me.”
Levi had to be the most likable guy in history. He was always quick to smile, handled his friends’ repartee with humor and possessed a magnetic attraction that was impossible to ignore. Men and women alike seemed to respond to his easygoing charm. They instantly relaxed in his presence, letting their guards down and treating him like an old friend.
Chelsea had responded like that the second she’d met him—with one noticeable difference. Instead of treating him like an old friend, she’d had the irrepressible urge to push him up against the wall and fuck him until neither of them possessed the strength or energy to remain upright.
She crinkled her eyes at him. “Tell me honestly. Have you really slept with all of those…delightful female friends of yours.”
Levi shrugged, his eyes twinkling above his unshaven cheeks. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Probably.”
She raised a brow.
“Okay, yeah. I may have been a little…wild in my youth.”
“Ah, but as an adult you’ve calmed down completely.”
“Right. Oh, yeah, of course. Right.” Levi’s nod turned into a shake of his head. “Um…or not really. But a bit. Definitely a bit.”
Chelsea chuckled, thoroughly entertained. Her hormones, on the other hand, were not laughing. They were yanking at her instincts, telling her to ignore common sense and shove him up against the wall already.
Naked.
She paid them no heed. They’d given her similar messages the entire time she’d spoken to Spencer. Obviously, they were going through some kind of emotional upheaval—as they seemed to do every time either Levi or Spencer walked through her restaurant door. “Go on then. Tell me why you snuck over here.”
The twinkle in Levi’s blue eyes cleared, leaving him looking very serious. “Have dinner with me.”
Chelsea’s jaw dropped, not because she thought he was joking, but because she knew instinctively he wasn’t.
He held his hands up. “Wedding jokes aside, I would love to take you out one night this week.”
Chelsea gestured at the restaurant around her. “Nights aren’t exactly free for me.” Not when she dropped in at the restaurant at least once every evening. Saturdays and Sundays, the busiest days, she stayed the entire evening. But mid-week, though she was here for every lunch, she was happy to mostly leave dinners to the excellent care of her hostess, Belinda, and chef extraordinaire, Kainano.
“Then have lunch with me. Or breakfast. Hell, we can take a walk around the city. Or a swim at Bondi. Whatever you want. I’d really like to spend time with you, alone.”
Holy shit. Spencer was coming to help her tomorrow night, and Levi wanted to take her out. After a year of lusting after both of them, everything was changing in one night.
“How about tomorrow?” Levi asked.
“I can’t. I have meetings the whole day, and I’m spending the evening with Spencer. He promised to help me with my taxes.”
Levi blinked. “Spencer Allen?”
“Yes.”
“Taxes, you say?”
“Yes. I told him I was useless with numbers, and he assured me they were his specialty. I’m cooking him dinner in return for his help.”
“Ah, right. Okay.” He rubbed a hand over his hair-roughened cheeks. “If Monday’s out, how does Tuesday look for you?”
She regarded him with serious scrutiny. “You’re not joking about this, are you?” God, could she do it? Could she see Spencer and Levi?
“Not even a little bit.”
If she could, she wasn
’t going to do it without both of them knowing. She’d be perfectly honest with Levi and Spencer—which made her grateful she’d already told Levi Spencer was coming over tomorrow night.
She gave Levi a quick but thorough once over. “How are your running skills?”
“Pretty damn good,” he said with no conviction at all, “considering the last time I ran more than fifty meters was at my high school athletics carnival…twelve years ago.”
She gave him a second quick but thorough once over, not believing him for a second. Anyone who sported lean, muscular legs and shoulders like his had to do some kind of exercise.
“You look dubious,” he chuckled.
“I am.”
“Kayaking’s my thing, not running. I go whenever I can find a couple spare hours.”
“Ah, gotcha.” That would explain the gorgeous shoulders. “Running is my thing. At Centennial Park, twice around the track. Think you can keep up?”
“Beyond a shadow of a doubt…no.” He shot her an impish grin. “But I’m willing to give it my best shot.”
“How does seven tomorrow morning sound?”
“Like a jail sentence.”
“Pity. I suspect I would have enjoyed running with you.”
“Did I tell you I’m a sucker for punishment? Jail sentences included?”
“I park by the coffee shop.”
“I’ll be waiting at the corner.” Levi sighed. “Guess I better cancel my last Heineken order.”
“I’ll send a bottle of mineral water to your table instead.”
“Thank you. Chels?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you like me to run ahead of you for some of the time?”
“Why would I want that?”
His cheek twitched. “So you can check out my ass. Why else?”
She snorted. “That’s quite okay. But thanks for offering.”
“All right then. But just so you know, I only offered to even out the playing field.”
She quirked a brow at him. “Even it out how?”
“Well, it’ll be unfair if I run behind you the whole way.”
“You are incorrigible.” If she was forced to run knowing Levi was checking out her ass the entire time, she’d trip over her own two feet.
“Yeah. That’s what Olivia wants me to believe too.”
“Believe it.”
“Hey, I’d only run behind you to admire your…technique. You know that, right?”
“Oh, absolutely. Still, let’s plan on running side by side tomorrow.”
“If I can keep up.”
Please. Chelsea suspected he wouldn’t even break a sweat. “You might wanna head back to your table now. You’re getting curious looks from everyone there.” She waved over his shoulder.
With a long-suffering sigh, he nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning. Running shoes and all, oh, and Chels?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Wear something sexy.”
She snorted. “To run in?”
He leaned in close. “Underneath your running clothes. It’ll give me something to fantasize about while I’m gasping for breath.”
Chapter Two
Levi had not seen the inside of seven o’clock in a very long time. As a general rule, he didn’t do early mornings. His day never required it. Because brain activity only seemed to kick in somewhere around ten or eleven a.m., Levi’s routine consisted of a late start, a late afternoon kayak and a late night. For some reason, he got his best word count accomplished between midnight and three in the morning.
Standing on the corner in the glaring sun, stifling a yawn, was veritable torture. Add in the idea of a couple of laps around the park, and he was well and truly buggered. But one look at the woman crossing the road to meet him had enough adrenaline pumping through his body to shake the weariness from his limbs and the scratchiness from his eyes.
She was worth getting up for.
Chelsea wore tight black running pants that ended just below the knee and a snug maroon exercise singlet that ended mid-waist. Which left a good few centimeters of exposed female flesh.
If her eveningwear got his blood pumping, her exercise gear almost sent him into cardiac arrest. It left nothing to the imagination, outlining every inch of her long, toned legs, flat stomach, rounded hips and firm breasts. The top was small enough and tight enough that Levi knew she wore no bra.
Which suited him just fine. He’d told her to wear something sexy, and truly, was there anything sexier than braless breasts?
“You made it.” Her ponytail bobbed behind her as she crouched down to tie her lace.
“Told you I would.”
“I confess to not being a hundred percent sure.” She stood again and held out her hand. “Here you go. A bottle of water for the road.”
“Thanks. I have one in the car. Thought I’d drink it after.”
She shook her head. “You’re going to need it while we run. It’s hot today, and we have to stay hydrated.”
He gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ll thank me later. Ready to go?”
As ready as a cat was to dive into a swimming pool. “Absolutely.”
“Slow jog to warm up before we pick up the pace?”
Uh, shoot. He’d pretty much hoped for a slow jog the entire way. “I’ll follow your lead.”
She shot him a pointed look. “You’ll run beside me.”
Levi shot her a cocky grin. “I meant I’ll pick up the pace when you do.” Although he fully intended to follow a bit of the way. After the first three minutes of running, he’d need the incentive to keep going.
She gave him a saucy grin right back. “Ah, right, How silly of me to misinterpret your words. C’mon, let’s go.”
They set off at an easy pace, slipping into the steady stream of early morning exercisers on the jogging path. To Levi’s surprise, he found that not only could he keep up, he could even speak while he jogged. “You do this every morning?”
“Five days a week.”
“Explains why you’re in such good shape.”
“If you kept your eyes on the track instead of my hips, you’d have less chance of tripping.”
“Yeah, but the path doesn’t look half as good.”
“Incorrigible,” she muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes, but amusement tugged up the corners of her lips. “Tell me about your writing. How’s it going?”
“It has its ups and downs.”
“Are you in an up or down phase?”
“Up. For now. But that could change any minute.” Levi never knew when inspiration might hit. The last two months had been dry as a desert. But the last few days had more than made up for it. Even now, at this obscene hour of the morning, his fingers itched to hit the keyboard.
“When can we expect our next installment of Willful?”
“We?”
“I need to know if Will loses his job.”
“You’ve read my books?”
“Don’t look so surprised.”
“I am surprised.” Levi’s main character, Will Chester, was a Sydney cop whose controversial tactics skirted the edge of legal detective work. The cases Levi gave Will were gritty and hardcore. Often, while immersed in a particularly violent or gory scene, Levi questioned where the depravity that lurked deep in his mind came from—because portions of his books were incredibly depraved. “Most of my readers are men,” he explained. Demographics his publisher had shared with him.
“I confess, I’d never have bought the first book if I didn’t know you’d written it. But once you celebrated your second release at Chelsea’s, my curiosity got the better of me. I bought Willful Intentions.”
“And what did you think?”
“I hated every page.”
He snorted. “At least you’re honest.”
“It was way too gruesome. But…that didn’t stop me finishing it. Or buying Willful Homicide. I devoured them both with a sort of morbid fascination and then thought abou
t them for days after.”
“Uh, thanks. I think.”
While Chelsea’s voice sounded as though she were doing nothing more than taking a slow stroll around the park, Levi found he was having more and more difficulty making long sentences. Chelsea had increased their pace. The gentle jog they’d started with had turned into a proper run.
“When someone can’t stop reading a book they don’t want to read, you should take it as a compliment. It speaks volumes about your talent as an author. So, when does the next book release?”
“Four months’ time.”
“And the next one?”
He’d submitted it to his editor at the end of December, three months ago—and then failed to write another useful word until the past weekend. “End of the year. A while still. But let’s talk about your talent. That pasta last night? Excellent.”
“My recipe, Kainano’s talent.”
“Kainano?”
“My chef. He’s Samoan, and an absolute genius when it comes to food. Everything he touches turns to delicious.”
“Can’t argue with that.” He’d never had a bad meal at Chelsea’s. He’d never even had an average one there.
Levi’s chest began to burn and muscles in his legs he never knew he had started to cramp. Chelsea wasn’t even perspiring. She looked as fresh and relaxed as she had last night. “How’d you get into the restaurant business, anyway?”
“I have an obsessive passion for good food, which I fed when I travelled the world for four years after school. I paid for the trip by working in restaurants all over Europe. Started out as a waitress, then moved into the kitchens. By the time I hit Italy, I knew how to cook some pretty impressive dishes. Got my first chef job in Florence and never looked back. I managed the kitchen at a pretty hip restaurant in LA for a year and then came home. I think I always knew one day I’d have to come back to Sydney and open my own place. Financing took a while…but I did it. Finally.”
She glowed as she spoke, telling him with more than words how much she loved her work.
“You sure did.” She’d done a spectacular job of it too. “And we are eternally appreciative of your success.” He fell silent for a second, catching his breath. “How the heck—” he puffed, “—d’ya stay in such good nick…with that kind of passion?”
