“Jake Chambers. The new owner.” Taking in the printing on the side of the cases-Liv Bell Wines-he quickly reconsidered his stance on Minnesota wines and smiled. “You must be darling Livvi.” And she certainly was, from her golden curls to her slender tanned feet-the face and body in between definitely magazine-cover material.

“Chaz calls everyone darling. Don’t read too much into it.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” He was more than ready to ignore that warning tone in her voice, seeing how he was suddenly reexamining his plans to lead a monastic life during his downtime. The blonde in his kitchen looked damned fine in that red flower print summer dress, green strappy heels, and not much else, if her pert nipples straining the fabric of her dress were any indication. “Do you need help carrying in anything?”

He suddenly found himself thinking plans were made to be broken-a purely libidinous but irresistible impulse. Enjoying some downtime with benefits might not be so bad.

“No, thanks. I’ve heard of you,” Liv added, her gaze deliberate, not sure whether he was hitting on her.

He smiled faintly. “It must not have been good.”

“You’re not from around here, that’s all.” His thick black hair had been pulled back carelessly in a short, untidy ponytail, accenting his stark cheekbones and dark, exotic eyes. And whether she found his fame or his beauty disturbing was unclear.

“Do I need vetting?”

His smile this time was incredibly sensual, as though he knew very well he didn’t need vetting. Nor did anyone who looked like him, she thought. Even casually dressed, or maybe because he was casually dressed in sandals, jeans, and a white T-shirt with the logo of his L.A. restaurant in small letters on the left side of his muscled chest, he exuded a kind of accessibility, as though he wasn’t a famous megachef or breathtakingly handsome, as though he was an ordinary man.