Party of Three (Sunday Night Dinner Club #1 (2 page)

How two men so different in every aspect of their lives had been friends for over twenty years was a mystery. But Levi was indeed his best buddy. Always had been, always would be. “Well done, Barr-o.”

“I’m chuffed.” Levi punched his fist in the air. “Not sure when the rest of the book will get written, but at least I’ve made some leeway.”

Chelsea, all business once again, approached with a tray of drinks before Levi had taken his customary seat on Spencer’s left. She set the Glenlivet in front of Spencer and a Heineken by Levi. There was the customary bottle of red for Theo and Zoey to share, a cocktail of sorts for Ava, gin and tonic for Olivia, a Toohey’s New with James’s name on it and the obligatory Black Label that Greg scooped straight off the tray.

God knew how she got it right every time.

Levi drew a healthy sip from his bottle before nodding his thanks to Chelsea. “Sweetheart, you’re the best. Seriously, when are you going to make an honest man out of me?”

Never, if Spencer had any say in the matter.

“If she has any common sense? When pigs fly,” Zoey answered helpfully.

“Yeah, don’t do it, Chelsea,” Olivia chimed in. “Levi might be good to look at, but he’s terrible in bed.”

Zoey nodded her agreement, which made Spencer laugh out loud.

“Once,” Levi griped at Olivia. “I got you into bed once, and you haven’t stopped moaning about it since.”

“You got me into bed once too.” Ava smiled sweetly at him. “I’m with Zoey and Olivia on this.”

Chelsea raised an inquisitive brow. “Is there anyone here you haven’t gotten into bed once?”

Greg tapped his chest. “Yeah. Me.”

“So it was more than once for you?” Chelsea’s tone was pure innocence.

Greg skewed his face as though he’d swallowed a mouthful of lemon juice instead of scotch. “Hell, no. You won’t find me climbing into bed with that bozo. Ever.”

Chelsea turned to Levi. “I’m sorry. It’s looking like I’m going to have to go with majority rule on this one. So no wedding for us tonight.”

“No worries, Chels,” was Levi’s laidback response. “Tomorrow night?”

“I can’t then either,” she said with a chuckle. Her gaze flickered to Spencer. “I have plans.” She gestured towards the drinks. “But the first round’s on me and your waitress will be here any minute to take your orders. Enjoy the evening, folks, and let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

Levi’s hand shot into the air.

“Apart from agreements to wedding proposals,” Chelsea was quick to amend.

He dropped his hand. “Ah, well then…nope. Nothing else for now.”

Olivia snorted as Chelsea walked off. “You, Levi Barrett, are a hopeless case.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“I think the more appropriate question is
who
did you do?” Olivia said.

“Or who
didn’t
you do?” Ava said.

“Hey, no fair. I didn’t
do
Chelsea.” He took their teasing in his stride.

“Because she hasn’t given you the chance,” Ava pointed out.

“And we’d like it to stay that way.” Spencer threw in his two cents’ worth. Screw the
we
.
He’d
like it to stay that way.

“We love the restaurant too much for you to sleep with her, Lev. Don’t mess it up for the rest of us.” This from Zoey.

It was Levi’s chance to turn on the innocence. “Why would I want to mess it up? And why would my sleeping with a beautiful woman mess it up?”

Ava rolled her eyes. “Gee, Lev, what’s that I spot behind you? A trail of broken hearts?”

“The girls are right,” Greg said. “Your track record speaks for itself. Sleep with her, and we’ll never get a table at Chelsea’s again.”

James glared at him. “If you use your Three-F Rule on Chelsea, I personally will hurt you.”

The Three-Fs. A rule James had so eloquently named to describe Levi’s behavior. Fancy ’em. Fuck ’em. Forget ’em.

Levi argued he’d never forgotten one of them, and Spencer believed him. But he also knew Levi never hung around long enough to form any lasting, emotional bonds.

“Don’t think I’d forgive you if I have to forego the risotto here, chump.” Theo shot him a warning look. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Here, here,” Olivia cheered. “Make me give up my portion of Chelsea’s homemade waffles, butterscotch sauce and vanilla-bean ice cream, and I’ll be forced to hurt you.”

Levi narrowed his eyes at her. “You, woman, are more scary out of bed than in it, and that’s saying a lot.”

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.”