Wine, Tarts & Sex

“It is not.”

“Whatever-the point is, you’re in the dumps. Amy called me. Okay? So it’s not just me who’s noticed. We’ll go out on the town tonight. Betsy said the new bartender at Quantum is so-o-o hot, he’s worth fighting your way through the crowd to the bar. His name’s Sonny, he’s ripped, and has the longest lashes anyone’s ever seen. So get dressed. I’m not taking no for an answer. Wear something sexy. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“It’s Thursday. Let’s at least wait until the weekend.”

“Nope. You’ll have some other excuse then. I’m coming up.”

“Don’t, don’t-okay, okay. I’ll drive down.”

“If you’re not here in one hour fifteen, I’m on my way north. No more excuses. I’ve heard them all the last three weeks. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea, and I’m taking you fishin’ tonight.”

Liv laughed. “You’re a pain, but you’re probably right.”

“Probably? It’s either this or a therapist, and they cost more than they’re worth. At least this way, you get to drink one of Sonny’s famous libations in the bargain. Wear your Issey Miyake-that chartreuse number with the halter top. I’m hanging up. You’re on the clock.”

Forty

Jake hadn’t been moping around, but he’d not been exactly his old self, either. Unlike Liv, who’d been playing the hermit, Jake and his colleagues had been out every night. They’d eaten at every restaurant of note in the cities, they’d gone to all the hip bars and night spots. They’d even availed themselves of the various invitations to sleep over they’d received.

Or three of them had.

Jake had turned monkish.

Elena didn’t believe it and was still in hot pursuit, even though he’d turned her down.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he’d said when she’d climbed into his bed the night of her arrival, “but maybe we should leave things where they were when I left L.A.”

Shrugging faintly, she’d moved away. But only to the edge of his bed, where she’d surveyed him with a lazy smile. “Is it about that blonde who left in a huff?”

“Nah. It’s a Zen thing.”

“So this Zen thing requires celibacy?”

“Let’s just say it does right now.”

Her brows rose. “You are burned out.”

“Something like that.” He must be burned out. He’d never been selective about his fucking. It had always been anyone, anywhere, anytime.

“Would you mind terribly if I just slept here tonight?” She nodded at his crotch. “If I promise not to attack your spiritually converted cock?”

“Be my guest.” He could be tactful; he wasn’t completely off his nut. Other than not wanting to fuck Elena, who had always been eminently fuckable. But he wasn’t joking about the Zen thing. He just wasn’t in the mood.

Had he been less secure in himself, he might have been shaken by his sudden volte-face. But self-confidence had never been an issue, and right now he didn’t feel like fucking anyone.

Oh really, a damnable voice inside his head had snidely intoned.

“I need a drink. How about you?” Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he’d quickly risen. No way was he going to lie in bed and obsess over her.

In the following days, the frantic construction schedule aside, they all spent hours in the kitchen working on menu choices for the River Joint. They cooked old favorites and far-out fusion dishes, they experimented with drinks and desserts, baked a variety of artisan breads, constantly tasting and discarding, agreeing and disagreeing, choosing finally the bare-bones items that would be regulars on the menu. To those would be added seasonal dishes, creative whims, and frequently asked-for foods from customers.

Each day brought Jake’s dream of a neighborhood joint closer to fruition.

Each day he tactfully evaded Elena’s advances. He even understood her persistence. They’d known each other a long time.

Each day he put up with kidding about his new virtue from his male colleagues.

And each day he had to force himself not to make the call he wanted to make.

He actually drove all the way up to Liv’s place twice in the wee hours of the morning and then just parked out on the road. Both times he couldn’t quite bring himself to drive in. That reluctance was either testament to his self-control or lack thereof.

A therapist would have to figure out which.

Thursday night or not, the club was crowded. For most people, the evening started at one of the bars with couches, easy chairs, and quiet jazz, but later on, everyone was at one of the bars like Quantum, where the music rocked, the vibe was hot, and getting it on was the name of the game.

When Liv and Shelly entered Quantum and moved toward the roped-off section, one of the slowly rotating spotlights caught Liv in its tinseled blaze. Her beaded chartreuse silk dress shimmered under the brilliant luminescence, her pale hair glowed, her long, shapely legs under her short skirt lured every male eye as did her barely there halter top that left little to the imagination.

Maybe Jake inadvertently moved when he saw her, or maybe his banquette in the VIP section was directly in her line of vision.

Who saw whom first was uncertain.

But their eyes met through the flashing lights and raucous din.

Liv came to such a sudden stop Shelly walked into her.

Jake went rigid, his conversation left off midsentence.

Elena took note of his intent gaze.

Then the drummer’s solo riff came to an abrupt end with an ear-shattering frenzy, and the room went silent. A second later, the crowd erupted in clamorous applause.

And Jake and Liv recovered.

Jake finished what he’d been saying, as though nothing had happened.

Liv quickly turned and detoured to the bar. She wouldn’t be sitting in the VIP section tonight.

“Did you see him?” Shelly hissed loudly enough to be heard through the din.

“Yes, I did. It’s no big deal.”

“Is that the Peruvian beauty sitting next to him?”

“In the flesh.” They’d reached the bar, where a crowd of men had made room for them. “Could we please talk about something else?” Liv said, lifting her hand to gain the bartender ’s attention.

Not that her gesture was necessary; Sonny himself appeared as though from nowhere.

“What can I do for you ladies?”

My Lord, Shelly was right, Liv thought. His long, dark lashes were amazing, his upper body visible above the bar, the glorious consequence of months and years in the gym. “I hear you make some special drinks,” Liv said, liking his warm, open smile and direct gaze.

“For you ladies,” Sonny said, his blue eyes focused on Liv, “we’ll do something extra special. Tequila or vodka base?”

“Tequila, Patron Silver,” Liv said. She almost said, Straight up, but didn’t want to be uncivil when he was noted for his creativity.

“Vodka,” Shelly said. “Something healthy for mix,” she added with a grin. Shelly came from the same Nordic ethnic background as Liv, and while Liv may have been a cover model, Shelly was tall, blonde, and beautiful as well. A veritable swarm of men immediately surrounded them.

In contrast to Liv’s glittering chartreuse dress, Shelly’s club finery was a jewel-tone magenta organza that showed off her long legs and toned body. Shelly was not only consumed with work, she pumped iron with equal zeal.

Over her second drink, Shelly caught Liv’s eye in the midst of flirting with their admirers and grinned.