Playboy Read online

  PLAYBOY

  Logan Chance

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by Logan Chance

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Contents

  NOTE TO READER

  Playboy

  Prologue

  1. Jonah

  2. Chelsea

  3. Jonah

  4. Chelsea

  5. Jonah

  6. Chelsea

  7. Jonah

  8. Chelsea

  9. Jonah

  10. Chelsea

  11. Jonah

  12. Chelsea

  13. Jonah

  14. Chelsea

  15. Jonah

  16. Chelsea

  17. Jonah

  18. Chelsea

  19. Jonah

  20. Chelsea

  21. Jonah

  22. Chelsea

  23. Jonah

  24. Chelsea

  25. Jonah

  26. Chelsea

  27. Jonah

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  PLAYBOY: DELETED SCENES

  Chelsea

  Jonah

  Chelsea

  Jonah

  Chelsea

  Chelsea

  Jonah

  Chelsea

  Jonah

  Chelsea

  Chelsea

  Jonah

  Chelsea

  Jonah

  Chelsea

  Note to Reader

  About the Author

  Also by Logan Chance

  DATE ME

  1. Erik

  2. Erik

  3. Erik

  STUDY ME

  1. Marley

  2. Houston

  SAVE ME

  1. Cryin’

  2. Lizard

  BREAK ME

  Prologue

  1. Katy

  2. Pollux

  DARK DON

  1. Rhiannon

  2. Xavier

  3. Rhiannon

  4. Xavier

  The Boss Duet Box Set

  1. Theo

  2. Penny

  3. Theo

  4. Penny

  5. Theo

  Current Releases

  More From Logan Chance

  Thank You

  NOTE TO READER

  In this book the characters quote movie quotes to each other. I have italicized all movie quotes in dialogue, instead of using the formal .’ ” seen here.

  I did this because it is more eye appeasing, and with some of the formatting, quotation marks were ending on separate lines. So, please be advised.

  Dedication

  To everyone who has ever picked up a book and fell in love with the characters. May you fall in love again.

  Playboy

  Logan Chance

  Sometimes you just have to say fuck it. Life. Crazy, right? It moves at supersonic speeds, and sometimes is so demanding, you have to take a step back and chill.

  I’m a pretty average guy. I don’t have a zillion dollars. Nor a fancy car. I’m not famous. I’m just normal, I guess. Which, in this day and age, is like saying I’m an alien.

  My friend’s call me Playboy. Hey, what can I say? I like to date. And even though I date a lot…there’s still something missing. I work as a photographer for Bunny Hunnies, a swimsuit magazine. I snap pictures of some of the most gorgeous women around.

  But they’re always off limits.

  Especially my best friend’s little sister, Chelsea. She’s the new model on set. And boy, does she have a mighty nice set…I mean tits, I mean she has a nice set of personality.

  But, she’s untouchable…especially for me.

  Prologue

  Chelsea

  “I just heard,” my friend, Gidget, sympathizes, rushing through the door of the dressing room on the set of Skittle Skattle Doo.

  I remove my Dodgy the Dog costume and blink back the tears. “It’s ok.”

  It’s not, but what else can I say? I’ve just been let go from a small production of a kid’s show. I can’t even make it as a dancing dog. You may think I’m being a bit over dramatic, but I’m an actress. It’s what I do. While I’ve been told I have the poise and grace of a young Audrey Hepburn, I have all the luck of a broken horseshoe.

  Although, I don’t feel very graceful in this furry dog suit I’m currently wearing. Big floppy ears. Bushy tail. You get the picture.

  “I know. Don’t give up, though. You’ll land something even better than this crap show,” Gidget, the choreographer of this ‘crap’ show, says. She’s always good at pep talks.

  “I’ve only been here, what, like two months?” I pull up my jeans, and toss a t-shirt over my head. “I really thought when I came back here from Texas, I’d land the first role that came my way.”

  “This town has a way of spitting people with real talent out.” She grabs my costume and places it neatly on the rack.

  “Well, I need something to pay the bills,” I tell her, throwing my blonde hair in a ponytail.

  “You know, you should try modeling. Lots of big stars start out modeling.”

  “Hmm, my brother does have a friend who works at a magazine,” I say. “But, no. No way.”

  “Which one?”

  I raise a brow. “Bunny Hunnies.”

  Gidget steps closer. “Wait, Bunny Hunnies? Chelsea, you should definitely think about that.”

  “Really? I don’t know if posing in a men’s magazine will help my career.”

  She pulls out her phone from the back pocket of her skinny jeans. “Look,” she thrusts the phone in my face, and I see a picture of a shirtless guy with a ton of muscles, “that’s Wayne Craig. He’s a huge Instagram star…aaaand…he models for that magazine.”

  I take the phone and swipe through a few of the pictures. “Well…”

  She cuts in, “And June Dellaway got her start in that magazine.”

  “Shut up,” I say. June is only the biggest sensation right now. Oscars. Red carpet. The whole nine yards.

  “Listen, all I’m saying is, it can help you with money. You need an agent if you’re ever going to make it. Hell, even my dog has an agent,” she says, glancing at the pictures of Wayne one last time before putting her phone away.

  “Yeah, agents are expensive.” I sit down in the lone folding chair, feeling a bit defeated.

  “You should have Declan call that friend of his and get you in.” She points her finger at me.

  Well, that’s the problem. The ‘friend,’ Jonah Marshall. I’ve had a crush on him since day one of meeting him. When Declan brought him home after baseball practice, my heart was a goner.

  Soft brown eyes, dark messy hair. He was every young girl’s fantasy, and I was ‘rugrat,’ Declan’s little sister. Even so, my crush only intensified the older I got.

  By the time I was sixteen and madly in love, my parents dropped a bomb on my brother and I.

  Divorce.

  I hate that word.

  It’s ugly and upended my life.

  I was whisked away to Texas to live with my mother while Declan, already in college, stayed in LA with my father.

  But I’m back now in La La Land. Los Angeles. The city of my birth. Population 3,792,621. Two thirds of that are trying to land the same roles I am. And I’m ready for my big break. Since I just lost this job, maybe I will try my hand at modeling.

  But, there’s no way I will let Declan call Jonah.

  No, if I’m going to make it in this ci
ty…I want it to be based on my talent. Not for who I know.

  In a city full of big sharks and vicious piranhas, I’ll be the little fish that swims against the current.

  Sounds good, right?

  Well, wish me luck, or break a leg. Whatever saying works best for you, because none of them work out very well for me.

  1

  Jonah

  Name’s Jonah, and I’m a habitual dater. Sounds like I’m at some dating anonymous meeting, or something. For the record, I’m not. Is there such a thing?

  What’s a habitual dater, you ask? I’m not entirely sure. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I date…a lot. I’ve been told with my height, brown eyes, and just fucked brown hair (their words, not mine), I could be in the pages of the magazine I photograph for. Not to sound egotistical, but getting women has always been easy for me. I wouldn’t call myself a manwhore, though.

  Sure, I like to have fun with these dates, indulge in some extracurricular activities afterward, but they know the score: I don’t do relationships. Sounds cliché, I know. But, I’ve tried a few of those in the past. Never worked out.

  First, there was Tiffani. Started out great, but next thing you know, she hated my friends and wanted me to stop hanging out with them. Second, there was Bryn, who couldn’t keep her legs shut. She fucked the entire staff at the restaurant job she had. Male and female.

  No, me and relationships are like oil and water; we just don’t mix.

  Instead, I prefer to play the field. No strings. Lately, though, no matter how appealing the first course may be, most dates end with me slipping out before the dessert is even on the table.

  Like tonight, for example, the blonde sitting across from me has a smokin’ hot rack, like bigger than genetically possible. I couldn’t care less. She’s dull and artificial. Not to mention, she hasn’t stopped talking about herself since we arrived. Besides, she failed the quote test. What’s that you ask? Well, I’m a die-hard movie fanatic, and I give all my dates a certain movie quote. They get it wrong, well, the date usually bombs.

  And so far, it has.

  I’m not sure when these things started mattering to me, but they have.

  And, honestly, I don’t give a shit about what she’s saying. Ouch, I know, that’s harsh. But, I’m really not an asshole. Well, mostly not. It’s just lately this whole game is getting old. Going out with girl after girl. There must be more to life, right?

  So, here I am, in this upscale restaurant in the heart of LA, with my Chivas on the rocks and a pained grin on my face while Amy talks with her mouth full of food.

  “So, then, my boss said, ‘Amy,’ ” she points her fork at me, “you can’t bring your cat to work.’ But, my cat told me he misses me during the day,” she whines.

  “That so?” I ask, barely interested. “Where do you work?”

  She stops talking long enough to stare at me with a blank expression on her over made face.

  Fuck, did she already tell me, and I didn’t pay attention? Bad Jonah. I should be punished, but not by her.

  “The bank,” she tells me in a ‘duh, don’t you remember’ voice.

  “That’s right. Crazy how they wouldn’t let you bring…” I pause and wait for her to fill in the blank.

  “Snookums.”

  I nod. “Right, Snookums to the bank.”

  I finish off my steak while Amy continues to drone on about her roommate, Kelly.

  Who cares? I glimpse my phone on the white linen tablecloth, wishing it would ring. Wishing for a miracle call of a family emergency so I can bail. When Amy starts to tell me about Kelly’s rash from a spray tan, I switch the phone to silent and press it to my ear.

  “Hello…what? Calm down. Uh-huh. Shit, ok. I’m on my way.” I slide the phone in my pocket, eyes on Amy. “I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

  She stops chewing. “Are you serious?”

  “I am.” I grab my wallet, throwing down enough cash to cover the bill. “This should cover everything. Again, I’m sorry.”

  And that’s that. I’m out of there and in my Jeep before Amy can say another excruciating word. You may think I’m rude, or hell, think I’m an asshole, but, I never claimed I was a good guy.

  “Did you get the prints over to marketing so the models can sign them for the meet and greet?” my overbearing boss Glenda asks.

  “When have I ever failed you?”

  She rolls her big, brown eyes, and I give her a slow wink.

  Did I mention I’m a flirt? Kind of goes with the territory, I guess.

  “Today there’s a new model starting, so be nice.” She smiles, showcasing a bit of an overbite.

  “I’m always nice.”

  Glenda narrows her eyes at me, and I crack a smile.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” she mumbles under her breath, thumbing through a few pictures of a previous shoot in a folder in her hand.

  I swing my legs off my desk, where I was comfortably perched taking my mid-morning break, and check the lens on my Nikon. She’s my baby, and I treat her well.

  “Oh, and no long lunch today. The shoot is at two pm sharp.” She pivots on her six-inch heels and glides from my office with the sophistication of a former model turned editor-in-chief. The last title is thanks to her husband, owner of Bunny Hunnies. Lucky break. In this town, sometimes it’s not what you know but who you know.

  But I don’t need luck. I’ve got the dream job.

  I stretch my arms over my head and stand. Chattering people pass my door on their way out to the shoot, so I grab my satchel, throw in my camera, and send a text to cancel lunch with my friends. Every Wednesday the four of us, Declan, Booker, Ethan, and myself, meet up. We’ve been best friends since high school, and ten years later, we’re still the four horsemen. That was the name of our band in high school. And no, we don’t play a single instrument.

  It was more karaoke in Ethan’s garage.

  We thought we were the shit, though.

  “Hi, Jonah,” a few of the models walking into the Falcon building call out to me.

  “Looking good, ladies.” I wink and they giggle and smile.

  I know you’re thinking it. Have I slept with them? I’m not one to announce every girl I bang, I keep my sex life private, but, no, I don’t mix business with pleasure. Zanna, Lyla, and Maria are off limits, no matter how much they try to tempt me.

  I jump in my Jeep and head down to Venice Beach. Traffic is a bitch, but I finally ease into a parking spot and settle in to glimpse at the crashing waves. Living in LA is like living on a different planet. It’s perfect weather all the time, ideal for photo shoots on the beach.

  I spot the production crew down by the shore setting up, so I hop out of my Jeep and slip inside Hank’s Franks, a local diner, and order a burger.

  “Thanks, Gary,” I say to the man behind the counter when he hands me my bag of food. Ah, food. Real fucking food with grease and fat. This is what I need.

  I step outside and chomp down on my burger while I watch the crew set everything out along the beach. My eyes zero in on the model. She’s far away, but even from here her body’s bangin.’ She’s not as tall as the other models and curvier.

  Long blonde hair. Skimpy little pink bikini. Today’s going to be a good day.

  I finish off my burger, wash it down with a Coke, and head over before I lose the best light of the day.

  “Jonah, over here,” Tim, the shoot coordinator yells. “Meet Chelsea.”

  I drop my bag near the set and fish out my camera.

  Her back is to me when I walk over, and I get a great view of her sweet ass barely covered by her bottoms.

  She turns around and my jaw drops. Beautiful blue eyes I’ve seen countless times before stare back at me. Eyes I’ve known since I became best friends with her brother, Declan.

  “Chelsea Sincock?” Fuck. Her last name suddenly takes on a whole new meaning. To say I’m shocked is an understatement. I was staring at her ass. At Declan’s sister’s ass. When did she g
row up? I haven’t seen her since their parents divorced and she moved to Texas with her mom at sixteen. Eight years ago. Declan mentioned she moved back a few months ago, but I had no idea she was modeling. How could he forget that detail?

  “Oh my God, Jonah.” She rushes over to fling her tanned arms around my neck. Her nearly naked body presses up against me, and I shake off how good it feels.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  She releases her hold on me. “I’m the new model, obviously.”

  “Like hell you are.” She can’t model for this magazine. I hit the brim of Tim’s ball cap as he ogles her. “Stop staring.”

  “Let me have your attention,” I call out to the small crowd of set designers, makeup artists, and other crew workers. “No one’s allowed to stare at her.” But me. “This is my best friend’s little sister.”

  Chelsea throws me a stunned glance. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Nice to know you’ve matured since last I saw you.”

  She’s angry, hands on her curvy hips, and it’s cute. Cute in a kid sister sort of way. Because that’s all she is to me, a kid sister.

  “Nice to know you have, too,” I shoot back. The tone comes out all wrong. Sounds a little husky and sexual. Her body has definitely matured, and that’s the problem. The pink triangles of her bikini barely cover her breasts. Does Declan even know?

  He’d shit a brick if he knew. I need to tell him.

  “Let’s get started,” I shout, yanking the cap off my camera and lining everything up for the shoot.

  Chelsea gets into position, and I focus on her through the lens. The breeze lifts her blonde tresses, exposing the perfect symmetry of her face. High cheekbones, pert nose, full lips—my camera loves her. Now to figure out what to do with her. I want her in the water with the waves crashing over her body.

  “Ok, make your way over to the shore. Dip your toes in.”