Seduced on the Red Carpet. Ann Christopher

she murmured, scratching his ears again and wishing she knew his name. His tail wagged, thumping the chair hard enough to cause splinters in the wood. “Are you trying to get more banan-aaa? Well, I don’t have any. I don’t have annn-yyy.”

      The dog showed every indication of forgiving her. He gave her hand a sweeping lick with a tongue the size of a slab of beef and lurched to his feet, tail swinging and ready to begin a full day of following her around.

      Right.

      First thing on her agenda: complaining to the owners about J.R.

      The main house was a hive of activity with people converging around bicycles lined up on the cobblestone courtyard beyond the huge front porch. This must be the daily tour she’d read about in the brochure; she’d have to sign up for the one tomorrow. Riding down these country roads through the swaying vines and past the river sounded like heaven to her, and the tour ended with a winery tour and tasting. Who could turn that down?

      Skirting the friendly crowd, several of whom smiled at her with respectful recognition but showed no signs of wanting an autograph or picture with her, thank goodness, she and her four-legged shadow entered the huge main lobby.

      It was incredibly beautiful in that Western opensky kind of way. Huge windows, vaulted ceiling, an enormous stone hearth with a roaring fire to ward off the morning’s chill. Seating areas with leather sofas and chairs invited people to sit, stay awhile and visit and the hearty scent of good brew wafting from the fully stocked coffee bar in the corner invited her to never leave. Ever.

      Another cup of coffee was just the thing she needed before—

      Wait. Was that the little girl again, over there peering at her from behind the grand piano? It was. Crouched down with only her face visible around the gleaming ebony bench, she was all wide-eyed interest and quivering excitement.

      Livia smiled and waved.

      The girl giggled, clapped her hand over her mouth and disappeared into the shadows.

      Livia laughed. She’d gotten a giggle out of her little stalker this time, so that was progress, right?

      Helping herself to a huge powder-blue Chambers Winery mug, she filled it with her morning drink, which was essentially a cup of milk with just enough coffee in it to turn it tan. No nasty skim milk for her today, thanks. On this vacation, she was going to eat and drink to her heart’s content, and that meant—oh, wow, look at the creamy deliciousness!—whole milk.

      Taking a sip, she moaned in ecstasy. The dog, who was nothing but a blatant opportunist, whined with hope.

      “None for you,” she said sharply.

      He whined again, ears drooping.

      “Okay,” she muttered to herself, glancing at all the blue-shirted employees for the one she wanted. Time to talk to…oh, there she was at the reception counter. She recognized her from her photo on the winery’s Web site. “Excuse me. Are you Mrs. Chambers?”

      The older woman, who’d been typing something into the computer, looked up and smiled. “I certainly am. So if you love it here and you’re having the time of your life, you have me to thank. But if you’re having any sort of problem with the food or service or anything, it’s my husband’s fault and I had nothing to do with it. You can blame him.”

      Laughing, Livia stuck out her hand. “I’m Livia Blake. I’m great friends with Rachel Wellesley. You’ve got a fantastic place here.”

      “Well, any friend of my son Ethan’s fiancée is practically family. It’s so nice to meet you.” Mrs. Chambers was lovely, with salt-and-pepper natural waves and happy eyes that crinkled at the corners. She had a warm, double-handed grip and wide smile that made Livia feel like a long-lost niece or something. “Your pictures don’t do you justice.”

      Livia flushed. “Thank you so much.”

      “I see you’ve met Willard.”

      “Willard.” The dog, hearing his name, perked up and waited at attention. “So that’s his name. Wait—Willard?”

      “Don’t blame me,” Mrs. Chambers said. “My granddaughter named him. He’s not bothering you, is he? We’re still trying to civilize him. He’s a stray.”

      Willard, the manipulator, chose that exact moment to rub his big fat head against Livia’s leg, leaving a splotch of saliva on her cargo pants. What could she do but give him a nice scratch under his collar?

      “Oh, he’s fine,” Livia said. “I’m used to him now.”

      “Well, you let me know if he doesn’t behave.”

      “Actually, there’s someone else here who isn’t behaving—”

      “Oh, no.”

      “—J.R.? One of your employees?”

      Mrs. Chambers gaped at her. “J.R.?”

      Livia hated to sound like a tattletale, but she wasn’t going to pull her punches. “He was very rude to me when I arrived yesterday. I thought you should know.”

       “J.R.?”

      “Yes, and he said you’d had problems with him before. So, I just—with a bed-and-breakfast this lovely, I thought you probably didn’t want employees giving paying guests a hard time. Maybe you’ll want to speak to him about that.”

      A sudden speculative gleam sparked to life in Mrs. Chamber’s eye, almost as though she knew Mr. Arrogant had made Livia’s belly flutter with unmentionable desires. It figured. A man like that—all muscles, dimples, testosterone and bad attitude—was nothing but trouble to any nearby female guests, a fact of which Mrs. Chambers was probably well aware.

      Sure enough. “I certainly will talk to J.R. and get to the bottom of this right away,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Don’t you worry.”

      “I don’t want to get him fired or anything,” Livia said quickly.

      “I understand.” Mrs. Chambers looked utterly sincere but Livia couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a teensy bit of amusement in there somewhere, and she didn’t get it. “You leave him to me.”

      “Well.” Livia hesitated. Was there some punch line she was missing here? “Thank you.”

      “Have a lovely day, dear. Feel free to explore.”

      “I will.” Livia drifted away, with nowhere in particular to go.

      O-kaaay.

      Now that her complaint was officially lodged, it was time to dooo…

      Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yay!

      The light and easy feeling of being an eagle, soaring high and free, was so overwhelming she had to sit in one of the cozy chairs before the fire and let it sink in while she sipped her coffee. For once she didn’t have to check her watch every three minutes and then dash off to a flight or a shoot. For once she didn’t need to have the cell phone glued to her ear and take every urgent call that came through from her agent, manager or personal assistant. For once she could sit on her bee-hind and be as lazy as she wanted.

      Feeling ridiculous and happy, she grinned down at Willard, who’d collapsed atop her feet for an impromptu rest. Ever watchful, he peered up at her, brows raised, and lounged patiently while she finished her drink. Yawning with a startling display of sharp white teeth, he waited for his marching orders.

      “All right, you big oaf. If you’ll get off me, we can get going.”

      Apparently the dog spoke a little English. After another jaw-cracking yawn and stretch, he heaved himself upright—what’d this beast weigh, anyway? Oneeighty? Two hundred?—and trotted over to a back door, which seemed as good a place to start as any.

      Out they went. It hadn’t warmed up much but the bright sun had burned off the last of the mist and it was already a gorgeous day. She wandered