Wine, Tarts & Sex

Four

As the kitchen door shut behind her, Jake offered up a small prayer of thanks to whatever Zen spirits had saved him from his own stupidity. A couple of hours from now he would have been wondering how the hell to get some woman he didn’t know out of his bed.

Remember dude, you’re the guy who is going to live a hermit’s life for a while.

After years in the celebrity glare that included the usual celebrity groupies, he was on a self-imposed rest cure, looking for that something different in his life. And let’s face it, a woman like Liv Bell, ex-model and vineyard owner in a state that had snow on the ground five months of the year, did not exactly qualify. She would have been more of the same-just another beautiful blonde. And sometimes too much of a good thing was too much of a good thing.

So get a grip.

Don’t let your libido call the shots.

Stick to business.

Which, now that his brain was back in charge, meant getting the River Joint off the ground. Glancing at the two cases of wine on the counter, he debated how best to get rid of them.

Did homeless shelters take wine donations?

Turning the key in her truck ignition, Liv found the sound of the engine coming to life audible evidence that she could persevere in the face of temptation. Putting her truck in gear, she drove away from a very close call. Whether it had been mature judgment or saved-by-the-skin-of-her-teeth impulse, she was damned glad she’d walked away. Jake Chambers was exactly the kind of man she’d seen once too often in her career as a model. Rich, good-looking, successful, fawned over by one and all-and, unfortunately, convinced they deserved the kudos.

In other words, an egomaniac.

Definitely not her cup of tea.

Not that she knew what manner of man that might be.

But she’d know when he came along.

And in the meantime, her life was about as good as it got.

Twenty minutes later she was parking behind an uptown restaurant and looking forward to meeting her friends.

The three women had known each other since grade school, and whenever their schedules allowed, they met for lunch or dinner. Shelly was divorced, no children, Zoe was married with children; Shelly was a futures trader; Zoe had been a public defender before marrying and having kids.

“You’re late,” they said in unison as Liv reached their table.

Liv grinned. “I almost didn’t show up. Had my better judgment not kicked in, I wouldn’t have. The Jake Chambers is in town. He bought a restaurant on the river where I deliver wines. And he hit on me.”

“Everyone hits on you,” Shelly said with a grin. “But hey-we would have understood if you’d bailed. He’s definitely studly.”

Zoe held up her hand. “Maybe not. I saw in the National Enquirer that his last girlfriend left him for a woman.”

“You can’t believe anything in the National Enquirer,” Shelly said. “Facts, babe, not gossip; that’s the bottom line.”

“I don’t know. It was that movie star, what’s her name, the real quirky one with the blonde frizzy hair.” Zoe lifted her brows. “Everything is not as it seems in Hollywood.”

Shelly frowned. “Don’t start on the Tom Cruise thing again, pul-ease. I like his movies. Who cares about the rumors? ”

“Well, rumors aside on this one,” Liv said, signaling the waiter for a drink. “If Jake Chambers can’t please a woman in bed, I’d be real surprised. He practically oozes sex appeal. ”

“So why did you show up here?” Shelly asked, brows raised. “Seriously, it’s not as though you’ve found your one and only yet.”

“Unlike you, darling, I haven’t been looking.” Shelly had been dating with the same take-no-prisoners determination she gave to the futures market.

“That’s your problem. You actually think Mr. Wonderful is going to walk through your door someday and sweep you off your feet. Ha!”

“Hey, it worked for Cinderella. And Anna Karenina- although stupid Tolstoy had to do one of those nineteenth-century male chauvinist morality tale endings. Idiot. But whatever-I’m not in a rush. I’m happy. I haven’t had to split up my holdings with an ex”-she dipped her head- “no offense, but I’ve heard that can be real pricey,” she said with a grin. “And remember, I’ve dated so much I’ve reached the picky stage.”

“Picky or not, Jake Chambers would top anyone’s list. You should have given him a shot.”

“Nah. The Jake Chamberses of the world don’t fit in my game plan. Maybe an organic farmer would appeal, or better yet another vintner. Or if I don’t find that perfect man, I’m good. I have two aunts who never married, and they’re happy as clams. No stress, no grief-I figure they’ll live till they’re a hundred and ten.”

“I don’t know… Jake Chambers’s kind of stress might be worth a try. Think of him like a box of truffles-just a sinfully delicious treat. And when the last truffle is gone, it’s gone. Then it’s back to health food and the responsibilities of life.”

“If you’re so hot for him, Shelly, you go out with him. I’m sure he’s available.”

“Shelly’s lusting after Jim Balfour,” Zoe said with a wink. “He’s won her admiration for his studly way with the futures market. He pulled in a million in commissions last week, and apparently that’s Shelly’s aphrodisiac of choice.”

Shelly made a face. “Very funny. Not that money isn’t a turn-on, but Jim’s cute, too.”

Zoe grinned. “How cute exactly?”

Here’s where the ladies reverted to form, dissecting what most appealed to them in the male species. Liv sat back with her French martini the waiter had just delivered and listened with half an ear to the conversation. Her concentration kept slipping away to those male qualities in Jake Chambers that were still rattling her cage. There was something about him: a brute virility, a ruggedness not often seen in the world of the rich and famous, the challenging look of a man who hadn’t been housebroken and might never be. Jeez, snap out of it, she silently chided herself. Since when was she interested in whipping a man into shape?

Since never, that’s when.

And bottom line, if Jake Chambers didn’t want to be housebroken, he wasn’t going to be, no way no how.

Don’t even think about it.

He was a customer. No more. No less.

Zoe was talking about her oldest daughter, who could play the piano with considerable skill at age six. Liv concentrated her attention on the merits of a Montessori education that were being extolled and ordered another drink.