They both ignored the red voice mail light that had started blinking. They both had better things on their minds.

Later though, when Jake was once again capable of coherent thought and speech, he debated listening to the message. But it was getting late. Whoever called could wait until morning.

If the phone hadn’t rung again moments later and yet a third and fourth time shortly after that, he might have persevered in his decision. But he’d been in restaurant crisis management too long to ignore the fourth call.

“Do you mind?” It was politesse only; he was already rolling into a seated position on the edge of the bed and stripping off his condom. A second later, he punched into the voice mail and listened to the increasingly frantic messages before glancing at Liv. “I have to respond to these,” he gruffly noted. “My manager in L.A. is negotiating for some hard-to-get wines. Devain’s vineyard only produces a few cases a year.” He smoothed his palms over his hair and blew out a breath. “I don’t want to lose them.”

“You don’t want to lose wines like that,” Liv murmured, stretching lazily, knowing Devain as well as any wine connoisseur. “No problem. I’ll wait.”

His dark brows came together in a frown. “This could take a while. He’s a prick to deal with.”

Coming up on her elbows, she looked at him squarely. “Are you brushing me off?” She was never brushed off, which may have accounted for her mildly pugnacious tone. Or maybe the idea of relinquishing the pleasure he offered displeased her more.

“God, no,” he said, leaning over and dropping a conciliatory kiss on her cheek. “Stay a week.” Anyone knowing Jake would have been shocked by his statement. “In fact,” he added, immune to previous lifestyle habits when right after this phone call, getting off again was number one on his list, “I’ll be right back with something to amuse you while I talk this over with Eduardo.”

“I’m not in the mood to read,” Liv drolly noted.