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And there was Zel, striding past a young couple who were walking two chihuahuas dressed in matching striped dog sweaters.
Skinny blue jeans hugged her curves. Brown leather boots rose up her impossibly long legs to cover her knees. A wine-red, V-neck wrap sweater accentuated her perfect breasts. And a leopard print swing coat gave her sass. She usually wore her chestnut curls long and today they cascaded loosely around her shoulders.
Zelda Gordon was exquisitely fuckable, and Drew couldn’t imagine anything more glorious than being balls-deep in her, lips on her skin, and hands wrapped in all that gorgeous hair.
He couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin that spread across his face as she stepped into the restaurant and looked around. She spied him and returned his smile.
“Brick.” He stood and opened his arms. She slipped into the hug and he resisted grabbing two handfuls of luscious ass. Still, he held her close, loving the feel of her ample breasts against his chest, the cashmere against his skin. He inhaled. Like always, she smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. “You smell like a fucking bakery.”
Zel ran her fingers across his sweater. “And you feel expensive.”
Yep, cashmere had been the right call. “Pet me all you like, babe.”
She laughed. “Tempting.”
Reluctantly, he let her go, and they sat.
The waiter greeted Zel by name and set a white teapot before her. She returned his pleasantries and filled a teacup, adding a spoonful of honey.
“What’s good?” Drew asked her.
“Everything. Want me to order for you?”
He closed his menu. “Do it.” While she chose their lunch, he studied her face. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ivory skin and bow lips; perfect, high cheekbones; and eyes as turquoise as the waters of the Caribbean. He wondered, fleetingly, what he’d do about Livi. She wanted to have her lovers without giving him any say. Which was fine, as long as it went both ways, but she felt threatened by his friendship with Zelda and made little effort to hide it.
Drew was losing patience with his girlfriend.
Zel finished ordering, handed the menus to the waiter, and smiled at Drew. “How’s writing going? And sales? You on track to break eight?”
She meant an eight-figure salary. They joked about it all the time. How he was a rich bitch but owed it all to her. Considering he consistently ranked among the top five audiobook authors worldwide, he wouldn’t argue with her.
“Getting there, babe. Probably has nothing to do with my sultry narrator, though.”
Her eyes gleamed over the rim of her teacup as she sipped hot tea. She lowered the cup. “You lying little bitch. I should raise my hourly rate just for putting up with your bullshit.”
Drew laughed. “Probably.” He savored more of the dirty coffee, enjoying the sensation of espresso combining with whole milk in his mouth. The drink was hot, cold, bitter, sweet. Perfect.
The waiter brought an appetizer. Sliced pears wrapped with arugula and prosciutto.
“This is some good shit,” Drew said after eating two.
“I know, right?” Zel finished one and licked her fingers.
While he loved that she didn’t act demure around him, didn’t she know what she was doing to him? He shifted in his seat, aware of the growing tightness in his jeans.
But Drew didn’t miss the tension in her jaw and the way she tried so hard to act relaxed. Whatever her dick-wad ex had done, it had rattled her. It came through in the last two chapters she’d sent him. They were far below her usual standards. Anyone unaccustomed to Zelda Gordon’s narration would’ve thought they were fine, but he knew her and he knew better.
This it was something he’d never heard before from his narrator, and judging by the way she avoided his gaze and kept her arms crossed protectively, Zel remained rattled.
Their food arrived and they dug in. She’d gotten him the Kobe burger and he was not disappointed. She was tucking into a salad with grilled chicken and artichoke hearts. They ate for a few minutes, only pausing to remark about how good the food was.
He’d have to bring up the chapters and her lackluster performance, but he hated upsetting her. Still, if there was one thing he knew about Zel, it was how much professional pride she took in her work. She’d be pissed if he let her half-assed narration slide.
So he downed the rest of his coffee and sat back.
Time to rip off the bandage.
5
