“I make sure I’m outside every day at this time,” Brad confided with a laugh. “Rocco doesn’t often run with them, but man…”
“Who are they?” She asked, feigning innocence.
One was the good doctor of course. And he wasn’t looking remotely nerdy enough to be a doctor. Too tanned, muscled, outdoorsy. She recognized one of the others as the guy who’d stayed with the older lady. The other two she’d never seen before. Now she had, she’d never forget them.
“Xander Lawson—the tall one—is one of ours,” Brad explained. “Lives in the penthouse. While Hunter, the one with the short hair, is only in residence when he’s not off doing secret things for the military. Logan Hughes, bare-chested is next to Xander, former ski champ and current face of that new clothing line.”
Of course, Chelsea nodded. That’d be why he looked vaguely familiar. Chelsea was more a summer Olympics girl than winter, but she’d heard of the daredevil slalom skier—mainly for his off snow antics. And now he was a model? Actually it was fully believable. While Xander could pull on a wicked smile, Logan was sinful with those sharp angles and planes of his ultra-chiselled face.
“Back of the pack is Rocco St Clair. Owns a hotel and new club that’s currently in vogue.”
Well of course it was. With that guy in charge? Clearly Brad’s favorite, he had the Latin edge to match his name. Any place that had these men as patrons would be popular. Four of them. All magnificent specimens. But it was the one running front and center who had her eye. Smokin’ hot.
“Highlight of my morning,” Brad admitted. “And that of every waitress in that diner. And any other woman watching.”
Chelsea blushed and turned. “I’m not—”
“Honey, we all are,” Brad interrupted with a wink. “I’m a taken man, with a hunk of my own to go home to, but I still appreciate perfection in all its four forms.” He sent her a coy look. “And I hear it was an interrupted night last night. No doubt you’ll be needing a coffee.”
Doormen always knew everything, didn’t they? But surely he didn’t know about Xander and his Superman act.
She definitely needed coffee. She’d grab one from the coffee cart outside work but it was still too early to head there. She slowly walked towards Riverside. A little exercise would be good for her leg and release the energy hit making her muscles quiver. Plus she figured Xander wouldn’t be coming back this way. He was already out of sight. So much faster than her, in so many ways.
She kept to the side, letting the exercise freaks and early-to-workers stream past. Even this early there were plenty of people around, looking like they’d been to the park or the gym, bright-eyed tourists with cameras in hand, jaded looking teens looking like they were just heading home. The vibrancy and diversity of people inspired her. Ditto the tall buildings and green spaces. She’d been right to come to Manhattan. If she was going alone into a big city, might as well be the best on the planet. She glanced up, smiling at the buzz.
That’s when she saw him.
From round the block, Xander was running back again. Towards her this time. Hunter was with him but the other two had peeled away. He didn’t glare at the ground the way she did when trying to exercise. He had his head up and yeah, his gaze unerringly locked onto her.
She stared at him as he gazed right back at her, pounding his way closer. The guy was barely sweating, there was just a sheen to his skin and while his face was an expressionless mask—all angles and planes. His eyes were fierce. How could such ice blue eyes look so hot?
In that split-second all her senses spun out. Desire ricocheted back. She realized she’d stopped walking and now stood in the middle of the sidewalk. The drumming in her ears muted the sounds of passersby and traffic. Her heartbeats crescendoed and quickened.
She couldn’t possibly be afraid. She was in a public place, it was bright and early in the morning, there was no danger. Except for the way he seemed to look right into her and bring the most inappropriate thoughts to the forefront of her brain—skin and sighs and heat. She’d had sex before. Good sex. But she’d never been so overwhelmed by merely a man’s presence. Never so turned on by nothing, not even a touch.
It was embarrassing. But truthfully? It wasn’t so much him who frightened her. But her reaction to him. Too much, right? While the sensual side of herself might be starting to function again, it wasn’t going to be with him. Sensible people didn’t play with dangerous weapons. And he was definitely dangerous for all that charming smile and casual flirt.
Anyway, he wasn’t interested. Not now she’d let him believe she was ‘taken’. And she was, right? Tom mightn’t be here anymore, but more than that, she’d changed. She wasn’t a thing to be ‘taken’. She certainly wasn’t some mindless creature, all malleable and open to Xander’s use, there to enact his every sexual wish...
She clamped her jaw, furious with the burn searing her insides. The thought of that couldn’t be turning her on more?
She ripped her gaze away, saw a yellow car cruising towards her on the street. She raised a hand, shouted. The driver saw her, pulled over.
Chelsea crossed the path to meet it, horrifically conscious of how relentlessly Xander watched her. How much closer he was coming. Her limp was worse, her leg had totally seized. But she lifted her chin and hobbled to the cab.
She breathed out as she shut the door, wanting those hot urges to escape on the air. She had far too much else to think about. She really wasn’t ready. She was here to resurrect her studies, her career. But the coolness of his reaction in that moment bit—like it was an opportunity lost.
She was a coward.
“You’re early today.” The girl at the coffee cart said twenty minutes later. “I’m still setting up. But I won’t be a tick if you don’t mind waiting?”
“Thanks. Don’t worry, there’s no hurry.” Chelsea answered. She couldn’t even get into the building yet anyway—not for another five minutes or so. She watched the woman prepare the stand and smiled. Dressed top-to-toe in black, the barista also wore roller skates, kneepads and looked whippet fit.
Admiration and envy surged through Chelsea. What she’d give to move that fast and free again. Instead her leg was still aching slightly from the hurried hobble to the cab.
“You skate to work?” She couldn’t resist asking the obvious. Those skates were sleek with a king hit of retro style. In other words, awesome.
“Good training for derby.”
“Roller derby? That totally vicious all-chick sport scene?” Chelsea laughed. She shouldn’t be surprised, attitude oozed from the barista’s pores.
The woman grinned wickedly. “Uh huh.”
To be that strong? Yeah, Chelsea was jealous.
The barista glanced at her expression and laughed. “You should try it sometime.”
Chelsea wished.
“Black coffee, right?” The girl smiled.
“You remember everyone’s orders?” Chelsea was impressed, she’d only been coming to the cart this week.
“Well some are easier than others.” The woman shot her a dry look. “Especially one that simple.”
“Oh, right.” Chelsea palmed her forehead. Dunce.
Coffee queen skated up to her and offered her a marshmallow with a wink. “I’m Luisa.”
“Thanks Luisa,” Chelsea took the candy with a grin. “I’m Chelsea.”
“You work in this weird building?” Luisa jerked her chin towards the brightly colored building behind them as she banged the coffee machine.
“Only as an intern. Only a couple of months.”
“Cool though?”
“Yeah.” She’d only been there the week and she was trying not to panic already. “It’s a challenge.”
“Even better. Can do, will do, right?”
“I hope so.” Chelsea grinned at her attitude. “You like the coffee scene?”
Luisa shrugged. “It’s a means to movement. Far and fast.”
Yeah, it was clear she was a traveller, her accent certainly wasn’t from these parts. Chelsea couldn’t pick it—Australian maybe? “Hence the wheels?”
“You got it.” Luisa winked as she handed her a steaming cup. “Who do you intern for?”
“It’s an art and design institute, in a tiny office suite on the fourth floor.” Chelsea cautiously sipped the scalding liquid and felt the kick.
“So you’re an artist?”
“Kind of. I’m still studying.” She’d finished an undergrad in Fine Art and was now working on a post-grad Urban Planning and Design qualification—because artists like her needed a day job. She was a couple of years behind but at least now she was progressing again. She loved research. Wanted to do a bigger post-grad project if she could—and travel more with it. “What about you, where are you from?”
Before the girl could answer Chelsea’s phone chimed. She didn’t need to glance at the screen to know who it was, only one person called this early. Every day.
“Sorry.” She stepped away from Luisa’s stand with an apologetic grin. “I have to get this or there’ll be trouble.”