Page 3 of Code Red Chemistry

My cheeks heat, despite the firm purse of my lips. Hell, five years, and this guy can still make me blush with a single smug look.

“I’d better watch out,” he announces to the gawkers all around us with nothing better to do than enjoy their front-row seat. Then the bastard has the nerve to rake me up and down withthoseeyes. The searing look makes it crystal clear he’s picturing me naked. “Last time I saw this girl, I ended up with a margarita thrown in my face.”

A margarita? Really, Levi?

I click my tongue and scoff, “Some things never change.”

“Like my feelings for you?”

Wait, what?My head snaps back to him. From what I recall, hisfeelingsonly extended as far as his dick, which was generous, I’ll give him that. My eyes narrow. “I meant your memory.”

“Oh, I remember every detail when it comes to you.”

He’s full of shit, and we both know it.

I roll my eyes and take a step toward him. “It was a mojito.”

Levi’s smile widens, and he erases the gap between us. I lift my chin, determined not to let it show his proximity and those sexy lips have set my lady bits on fire.

“And well deserved,” I add.

“Why? Because I—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Because you’re my brother’s best friend. And a player to boot.”

One of his colleagues, a bushy redhead, lets out a booming laugh and slaps Levi on the back. “Man, this girl’s got you pegged.”

The tiniest muscle twitches in Levi’s jaw. It’s the only outward sign he’d rather his friend hadn’t confirmed he’s still a player. But why? The Levi I know—er…knew—wore that reputation with pride. He’s the one who boasted so often about his conquests to my brother that my brother’s girlfriend at the time—now his wife, Kristina—threatened to toss his phone into the Hudson if she heard one more story about Levi’sweekend adventures.

Levi ignores his friend and shifts his body to cut us off from the rest of the group. “Doctor, huh?” he says, lowering his voice so only I can hear.

“Physician,” I reply, distracted by a whiff of smoke and spicy aftershave.

His eyes find mine. “Probably top of your class.”

The soft-spoken compliment is genuine. And lodges itself deep in my chest. So far down I don’t want to examine why too closely. Instead, I fight the urge to smooth my hair.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve purposely been steering clear of me for five years,” I say.

“But you know better?”

“I know you well enough to know for that to happen you’d have to care, and you made it crystal clear at brunch that morning you couldn’t care less.”

“About that—”

“Forget it,” I say, cutting him off before he can go any further.

He leans forward, and his fingers, dangling at his side, brush mine. “You look good, Zo.”

The nickname, spoken in his gravelly tone, sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I inch backward and take a hasty sip of champagne, buying time.

“You…clean up nicely, too,” I stammer, waving my glass to indicate his navy uniform shirt and suspenders. “The whole firefighter thing suits you.”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah? I seem to remember you having a thing for a man in uniform.”

I nearly choke on my champagne.

“Your memory is as bad as I thought,” I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. “That was a tuxedo,”

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