Wine, Tarts & Sex

Three

Chaz’s restaurant was the last on Liv’s list, and by the time she pulled up to the back door, it was after six. The door was ajar as usual, but the reggae rhythms Chaz liked to have blaring from the loudspeakers were gone, and instead the muted sound of piano music could be heard.

The restaurant was always closed on Mondays; maybe Chaz was auditioning some new entertainment.

Lifting a case of wine from the back of her pickup truck, Liv moved toward the kitchen door. Shoving it open, she walked in, set the case on the stainless steel counter, and left to get a second case. A few moments later, finished with her delivery, she glanced around the kitchen, wondering where Chaz and Louie were. Chaz’s bookkeeper, Louie, who had no life unless comic book conventions counted, was always at his desk in the back of the kitchen crunching numbers.

Everything was strange enough that rather than barge into the dining room where the music was coming from, she opted for discretion. Chaz might be hitting on some female piano player. He hit on every good-looking woman who came into range. “Hey, Chaz!” she called out, figuring she’d let him know she was here, and he could respond or not. “Delivery!”

The piano music abruptly stopped.

Whatever he was doing apparently allowed for interruptions. Moving toward Louie’s desk to drop off her invoice, she placed it in his in-box.

“The delivery people dress better around here.”

Spinning around at the low, husky tone, she saw a tall, dark, more than ordinarily beautiful man instead of blond, boyish Chaz standing in the doorway to the dining room. “Where’s Chaz and Louie?” she asked, ignoring his comment as well as the approval in his quick, raking glance. She was used to men looking at her like that.

Jake glanced at his watch. “About now, I’d say Chaz is in the Miami airport waiting for his flight to Saint Barts; Louie’s on vacation.”

Liv gave him a questioning look. “And you are?” Although she was pretty sure she already knew, a second glance having confirmed her suspicions.

“Jake Chambers. The new owner.” Taking in the printing on the side of the cases-Liv Bell Wines-he quickly reconsidered his stance on Minnesota wines and smiled. “You must be darling Livvi.” And she certainly was, from her golden curls to her slender tanned feet-the face and body in between definitely magazine-cover material.

“Chaz calls everyone darling. Don’t read too much into it.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” He was more than ready to ignore that warning tone in her voice, seeing how he was suddenly reexamining his plans to lead a monastic life during his downtime. The blonde in his kitchen looked damned fine in that red flower print summer dress, green strappy heels, and not much else, if her pert nipples straining the fabric of her dress were any indication. “Do you need help carrying in anything?”

He suddenly found himself thinking plans were made to be broken-a purely libidinous but irresistible impulse. Enjoying some downtime with benefits might not be so bad.

“No, thanks. I’ve heard of you,” Liv added, her gaze deliberate, not sure whether he was hitting on her.

He smiled faintly. “It must not have been good.”

“You’re not from around here, that’s all.” His thick black hair had been pulled back carelessly in a short, untidy ponytail, accenting his stark cheekbones and dark, exotic eyes. And whether she found his fame or his beauty disturbing was unclear.

“Do I need vetting?”

His smile this time was incredibly sensual, as though he knew very well he didn’t need vetting. Nor did anyone who looked like him, she thought. Even casually dressed, or maybe because he was casually dressed in sandals, jeans, and a white T-shirt with the logo of his L.A. restaurant in small letters on the left side of his muscled chest, he exuded a kind of accessibility, as though he wasn’t a famous megachef or breathtakingly handsome, as though he was an ordinary man.

When he wasn’t.

But her voice was composed when she answered; she’d met more than her share of notable, handsome men. “No, of course not,” she said. “Forgive me if I gave that impression. ”

Her restraint was palpable. “Not a problem.” He smiled. “Tell me about your wines. Chaz says they’re excellent.” Something beyond his male predatory instincts made him want to put her at ease.

He didn’t know why it mattered that he see her smile.

He knew less why he was making the effort.

Maybe he was overtired and not thinking straight after leaving L.A. at five that morning. Or maybe he was in a good mood about his new restaurant and wanted company. Bottom line though-libido or not-there wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t be interested in meeting darling Livvi’s criteria-picky or not.

She was one gorgeous woman and not in a beautiful blonde from Hollywood or Vegas way. She exuded a fresh wholesomeness, like say-she worked in a sunny vineyard. Her skin glowed, her eyes were a clear aquamarine, her pale hair was bleached by the sun, and that hint of cleavage just barely visible above the scooped neck of her dress was- let’s face it-damned enticing.

“Care to give me a taste?” Understanding her startled look required further explanation on his part, he gestured at the case of wine on the counter.

Had he known her startled look had to do with something else entirely-something warm and tingly revving up in her pleasure centers, something wholly sexual-he would have been gratified.

It must have been too long between men, Liv thought, trying to remember when last she’d had sex, when she’d last felt that delicious jolt of desire.

Shit. Not that long ago.

So much for abstinence as an excuse.

But regardless, it felt like it must have been too long, she decided as a lustful heat shimmered through her body and settled between her legs as her body opened in welcome. Like wow-she’d never felt the urge to jump a guy on first sight before.

Although, perhaps her sudden, bolt-from-the-blue carnal cravings were predicated by the samurai comic books she adored or her penchant for Japanese films. That Jake Chambers’s Eurasian looks were nothing short of awesome could not be ignored. Or maybe there was some real basis for the pheromone theory, and she could blame a sudden blast of biological stimuli for her unusual response. Or it could be her inexplicable horniness was based on some weird familiarity. She’d actually met Jake once years ago in L.A. “Sure-we can taste my wines if you like,” she said, making sure she made it clear what exactly they were tasting. “And I don’t know if you remember, but we met before, ” she added, hoping banal conversation would help mitigate her outlandish rush of desire. “We were introduced at your restaurant in L.A. It was years ago-I forget exactly when-but it was around the time of the Academy Awards.” Perfect. Cool, detached-or at least her voice was. Her body continued on its own willful path.

“No way we met,” Jake said. “I would have remembered. ”

“I was with someone and with a large group.”

That explained it, at least. He didn’t zero in on other men’s women.

Do not throw yourself at him, she nervously warned herself. Be sensible. Fucking customers on the more-or-less first meeting isn’t a good idea. With that prudent maxim in mind, she decided wine-tasting wouldn’t be in her best interests. Alcohol, her sordid cravings, and Jake Chambers up close and personal weren’t a good combo. “Maybe we could take a rain check on the wine tasting,” she said, resisting temptation. “I actually have friends waiting for me at Taglio’s. I probably should go.” Tapping her wristwatch, as though to temper her Freudian slip of the tongue in using the word probably, she smiled politely. “Good luck with your new venture.”

The venture he had in mind had nothing to do with restaurants. “Why don’t you give your friends a call,” he said, his smile as polite as hers. “Tell them you’ll be a little late.”

She sucked in her breath. Obviously, she’d been in the convent too long when she was interpreting bland statements like that as sexually explicit invitations. He was probably just talking about wine tasting.

“Stay awhile,” he murmured, holding her gaze for a provocative moment, her little sucked-in breath having kicked his libido into overdrive. “Fill me in on the local scene or”-his voice lowered-“say… your vineyard… or whatever.”

Okaaay-that wasn’t about wine tasting or, for that matter, about actual conversation. It was pretty much about sex.

So now what?

It wasn’t as though she was completely averse to impulsive sexual encounters. And it wasn’t as though Jake Chambers was a complete stranger. Although she didn’t know how much that mattered in her current lecherous mood.

So-cool reason or rash impulse? What would it be?

“I’d better not,” she said, telling herself that self-denial was a virtue. “But thanks for the invitation.” Then, turning, she walked away while she still could.