Free Wine, Tarts, & Sex by Susan Johnson

looking. No one’s been there for years.” He smiled. “Except yard people and a handy man or two.”

    “Where in Wisconsin?”

    “A place called Deer Lake.”

    She shot him a look. “You’re kidding.”

    “You know where it is?”

    “About ten miles from my farm.”

    “So we’ll be neighbors. Come over and borrow a cup of sugar anytime,” he said with a grin.

    “Tempting. Although you won’t be living there, will you?”

    “If you’re close by, maybe I’ll change my mind.”

    “You should package that charm, darling.”

    “Feel free to bring your fine package over to my place. I’m available twenty-four-seven.” Christ, maybe he really was having an early midlife crisis. He couldn’t recall ever offering a woman carte blanche entrée to his life before.

    “You’re sorry you said that, aren’t you?” She took a right.

    He laughed. “Does it show?”

    “Oh, yeah. Look, last night was great. But no sense making too much of it. How’s that?” Did she sound mature or what?

    He smiled. “A relief. Although, I gotta tell you, you’re screwin’ with my head, darlin’.”

    “Not for long. Once we pick up Janie and Matt, the focus will shift to the soap opera star in our midst. Prepare yourself for tears.”

    “Will do.”

    “Although she may have matured now that she’s a mother.”

    “You’re joking, right?”

    Liv shrugged. “I was being polite.” Janie hadn’t sounded very mature on the phone with her sobbing and screaming.

    “Okay, so we’ll brace ourselves. The kid’s probably used to her hysteria by now anyway. How old is he?”

    “Threeish. He has four given names—Matthew Tabor Carter Nicholas—so he could be just a tad spoiled.”

    “Like his mother.”

    “So we’re on the same page.”

    “In so many ways, babe,” he said with a wicked grin.

    In an effort to still her wildly beating heart, she said, businesslike and cool, “I’d better call my working partner before we get to the Hilton. I’ll let Chris know that I’m going to be home later than I thought.” Keep everything in perspective, she warned herself. He was talking about sex. It wasn’t about beating hearts.

    “So, does Chris live on your farm?” Jake asked as she flipped her phone shut after a brief conversation with her vintner. Why it mattered, he chose not to examine.

    “Sort of.”

    “What does that mean?” Realizing his voice had sharpened, he quickly said, “Sorry—I was outta line to ask.”

    “Actually, Chris and his wife live across the road on a small property I own. She’s still in law school, so they’re living frugally. The house is small; it was originally a log cabin that was enlarged.”

    After hearing the word wife , Jake’s good humor resurfaced, and the smile he turned on Liv could have melted stone. “It’s nice you have backup.”

    “I don’t like to impose on Chris too much, though. He has his hands full with the wine making.”

    So if she stayed over, she wouldn’t necessarily have to drive home at the crack of dawn, Jake thought. “I understand, ” he politely replied. But he found himself contemplating a lazy morning in bed with her. “Then again,” he softly added, “if you were to give Chris a heads-up, you might be able to stay for breakfast next time. I make a pretty good apple-cinnamon French toast.”

    “Maybe I could,” she said with feigned calm. No way was she going to appear overeager with Jake’s old flame, Janie, waiting for him at the Hilton.

    “Perfect,” he said, like it was a done deal.

     

Nine

    It took a few moments for Liv to calm herself after his invitation to stay for breakfast, delivered as it was in that low, sexy tone. Not to mention his done-deal certainty that conjured up in her mind delicious images that had nothing to do with food. But calm herself she did, because sex was sex. It wasn’t the Taj Mahal in moonlight. Particularly with a perennial bachelor like Jake.

    It helped that one of