Wine, Tarts & Sex

He scanned the highway for cops.

None.

He punched the accelerator and, with the music blasting, headed home.

Once there, Jake immediately began answering his phone messages. Christ, he had a lot of people needing him to make their decisions. Luckily, his restaurants were well-oiled machines that ran despite his employees’ occasional uncertainties.

A dozen calls later and everyone’s questions were answered. Peace and tranquillity were restored to his West Coast operations. Not that he dared take a break or relax, or he knew exactly what he’d do.

Get in his car and drive back up north.

Despite the hour, he began calling the contractors Chaz had recommended. All they could do was tell him to go to hell. But since the men were all friends of Chaz’s, they were more than willing to discuss Jake’s building project, late hour or not.

Jake set up three early morning appointments for the next day.

Insurance, as it were, to make certain he stayed in town tonight and didn’t cave and drive back out to Liv’s. To that end, he decided it would be best not to stay in the apartment. He’d tour some of the bars downtown. Chaz had left him a lengthy list. He apparently knew every bartender at every happening place in the city.

Jake drank more than he should that night, politely brushed off a considerable number of women hitting on him, and felt curiously detached from the buzz and hustle of the crowds when loud music and bar noise were his normal comfort zone.

He actually made his way home before closing time.

This from a man who regularly joined his crew in after-close partying.

Less familiar with sleep deprivation, Liv found herself struggling to stay awake once Jake left. After cleaning up the debris from dinner, she went upstairs. Janie et al. were out of sight in their rooms as she moved down the hall to her room. Collapsing on her bed a moment later, she turned on the TV, but even knowing The Daily Show, her favorite program, was about to come on wasn’t enough to keep her eyes open. TiVo to the rescue, she decided and flicked off the television.

Eight uninterrupted hours later, she woke refreshed.

So refreshed and together that she could even placidly consider life without Jake Chambers’s brand of fabulous sex.

And seriously, her life was beaucoup busy, she reminded herself. Particularly now, with her added houseguests. More particularly since she’d not so much as stepped foot in her vineyard for days. She really didn’t have the leisure to give herself up to amorous play ad infinitum.

On that rational note, she left her bed, showered, dressed, and, after making herself a latte, carried it with her out to the barn.

With the sun warm on her face, chirruping birdsong sweet in her ears, she inhaled the fresh morning air and felt gloriously alive.

Really, was life good or what?

“Don’t smirk,” she said to Chris, who was smirking big time as she walked into his office in the barn.

“Can’t I be happy to see you again?”

“And don’t say again in that insinuating way.”

But her voice was so obviously cheerful, Chris knew she was teasing. “Whatever you say, boss. Come see our new museum piece,” he said, getting up from his desk and nodding toward the back of the barn. “It classes up the neighborhood, but I’m not sure it should be out here in the dust and flies.”

“Janie took her painting out of the packing?”

“She didn’t, but I did, along with that big guy. Your friend likes to give orders. You should talk to her, though. Seriously, the painting’s too valuable to be out here without any protection.”

“How big is it? Do I have room in the house?”

“It’s frigging big, but it might fit in your parlor. The ceilings are higher there.”

“Wow,” Liv murmured, as she rounded the last horse stall-the barn now home to only two horses-and came face-to-face with Hockney’s portrait of Janie dressed to the teeth in a sophisticated evening suit. The pricey artwork looked grandly out of place. “That’s almost more than life-sized. ”

“Yep.”

Chris was right. Janie’s insurance company would be apoplectic if they saw it now. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. We’ll find someplace for it in the house. And with luck, the cops won’t come looking for it. On the other hand, it’s not precisely my problem. So-tell me what I missed.”

“Everything’s looking good. The crews have been busy cultivating. We had rain, so we didn’t have to irrigate, the temperatures have been ideal, even the bugs-or lack of bugs-have been cooperating.”

“Perfect. I appreciate your stepping in.” In his baggy shorts, Converse sneakers, and spiky blond hair, Chris looked more like a skateboarder than a vintner. But he was a rising young star in the business, urban image or not, and he was also a superb farm manager.

“Not a problem, Liv. And FYI, it looks as though we’re going to have our best harvest yet. We might very well end up with a drool-inducing vintage this year.”

“Really-really? Wonderful! Thanks to your expertise, of course.”

“Yeah, well, the soil left behind by the glaciers has a thing or two to do with it, too. But we’re on the verge.” He dipped his head. “Are you back on schedule work-wise or what?”

“Definitely. I’ll be up in the mornings and out here early. It’s good to be back.” And she really meant it; getting things right in her vineyard was in the same category as great sex. Or maybe she’d waited for this enviable stage so long, she enjoyed it more than most. Or maybe she was just practical.

After all, while Jake Chambers was synonymous with great sex, he wasn’t looking for permanence.

She would be wise not to forget that.

Twenty-six

Jake woke with a colossal hangover, the sound of the alarm jarring his brain. He lunged for the clock radio, grunted as agonizing pain spiked through his head, and slammed his hand down on the Off button just as a wave of nausea hit him.

Falling back, he shut his eyes.

Jesus. That made his churning stomach worse. Opening his eyes, he dragged himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and waited for the world to stop spinning. He might have dozed off again, he wasn’t sure, but when he came to again, taking his head in his hands, he carefully rose to his feet. Steady. Stars flashed and popped before his eyes. He did that deep breathing thing until they disappeared. Then, dropping his hands, he cautiously moved his head left and right. Okay, that was working. Now, if he could walk without hurling, he’d try to find the Vicodin he kept for times like this.

Since he’d hardly unpacked, it took him longer than he would have liked to ferret out his hangover remedy. But dire necessity prevailed, and two Vicodin later, he navigated the route to the kitchen and made himself cafe au lait with six sugars. After his chemical and caffeine fix had worked its magic, he showered, shaved, dressed, ate some toast, and felt almost normal. Okay, he couldn’t lie; he wasn’t in shape to run any marathon. But everything else was definitely on the rise.

Descending the stairs to the ground floor, he stopped on the bottom landing to take in the panoramic view of the mighty Mississippi flowing by the restaurant’s window wall. Sun sparkled off the water, runners and walkers were taking advantage of the meandering path on the opposite bank, water poured over the dam in a white-water torrent, the scene vibrant and alive. There was something restorative in the view-a tonic perhaps-or a reminder of the simple beauties of life.

Speaking of beauty, his new restaurant was going to be one awesome place to hang out once the dust settled.

Now, which contractor was scheduled first this morning?

The following days saw major changes in Jake’s River Joint as work crews demolished and plumbed, wired and