How do you eat like this and still have a body like that?” Livi laughed as she swirled angel hair pasta around her fork, the rich scent of tomato, basil and garlic filling the air. “It’s not a very high-calorie meal,” she said with a shrug. Just dried pasta, a quick homemade sauce and wine-sautéed chicken breasts. Derrick hadn’t liked it, saying it wasn’t spaghetti if it didn’t have meatballs—not surprising from a man with a ball fetish. “I tend to stick with fresh ingredients and simple preparations. Nothing fancy. Besides, I exercise for a living, remember?” He gave her a long look, his blue eyes traveling over her body like a hot caress. Dressed in flannel sleep shorts and a thin tank top that showed as much as it concealed, her hair bundled up in a messy ponytail and her feet bare, Livi knew she wasn’t at her best. But that expression in his eyes made her feel as if she was perfect. “Your body is a credit to your career,”
