The Vintner and the Vixen (Vintage Love Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter 8

Maya stared at Jacques’s face while he examined her sketch. While he’d slept she’d become obsessed with the beauty of his features, relaxed of all the worries and responsibilities he carried around with him. That wasn’t what concerned her, however. It was the look she’d put in his eyes. A look of love, of longing, of hope. That was how she wanted him to be. Not the bitter, resigned man who stood in her cottage, holding one of her best pieces of art in his hands.

“You’ve sketched me with my eyes open.”

“Yes, I propped them open with toothpicks. You were so gone you didn’t notice.” She tried for a tease, but he wasn’t having it this time. He waited. The only sound was Princess panting in the other room.

“Why have you drawn me like this?”

“Because that’s the man you could be. If you could just let go of the past.”

His gaze met hers and she read the warning loud and clear before he even spoke. “I can never be this man, Maya. If this is who you’re waiting for, I’m sorry to disappoint you. My past made me who I am today. It can’t be undone.”

She opened her mouth to refute the statement but closed it again. You could lead a man to a mirror but you couldn’t make him see.

“Let me tell you what I’ve learned about the past. If you don’t come to terms with it, it will destroy your future. Do you know how many mornings I woke up over the past ten years wishing I’d made different choices in my life? Every single one of them. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Raj or any of the others; if I’d studied harder in school, gone to university, got a degree, and a regular job… Know what? I didn’t. I’ve had to become who I am today to survive. But I’m determined not to stay that way. I’m going to move on with my life. Make myself better. Do something worthy. Make up for my past mistakes. I promised Gran-Gran I would, and I won’t let her down. You have a choice, too. You can continue to live your life in fear of more heartache. Or you can move on. It’s entirely up to you. My advice? Don’t rule happiness out of your future. Don’t let Clarisse kill you, too.”

He stared at her as if she’d just slapped him. Nothing like hitting the man recovering from a debilitating migraine over the head with some hard truths. A strategic retreat was needed.

“Let’s eat,” she said then turned on her heel and strode back into the kitchen, fussing with the salad until she was back in control.

When he sat opposite, however, it wasn’t her emotions she was worried about revealing. A trickle of sweat dripped into the pool that had formed in her bra. And there was only so much moisture Victoria could keep secret.

“It’s like an oven in here. You haven’t got the heating on by mistake, have you?” he asked.

“No, of course not. But the whole front of the house, including my bedroom, is south facing. And the frothy white curtains don’t keep out the heat. So by midday it gets warm.”

“It’s unbearable. How have you slept?”

“Mostly on the sofa. In the evening I open all the windows and doors, hoping to catch a cross breeze. By midnight it’s usually cool enough to sleep downstairs anyway. At least it’s cured me of sleeping in all morning. Although for some bizarre reason, my neighbor objects to me firing up a chain saw at five a.m.”

Jacques opened his mouth, but it was his grandfather’s voice she heard. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all morning, Jacques. I guess next time I should try the cottage first.” Charles appeared at the back door and tipped his hat in greeting.

As though he were caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, Jacques jumped to his feet. “I came to stop the racket Maya was making and had to wait out a migraine,” he replied.

“Okay, if that’s the story you’re going for.” Charles chuckled, his blue eyes full of laughter.

That sounded like an opening for an argument. “Would you like to join us, Charles? We’re having a late breakfast, or is it an early lunch?” She rose to grab another place setting, but in doing so wound up centimeters from Jacques. Now she and Jacques looked even guiltier.

“No, thank you. I’ve already eaten. I just came to reclaim my golf cart.” He took his hat off and waved it in front of his face. “
Mon Dieu
, it’s hot in here. I forgot this place doesn’t have air-conditioning. I’m so sorry, Maya.”

“It’s okay. I spend most of my time outside anyway,” she replied.

“Nonsense,” Charles said. “Until the heat breaks you can stay up at the chateau. We have air-conditioning, at least in the bedrooms.”

“The Heritage Society won’t let you put in better windows, but you’ve got air-conditioning?”

Jacques did not look pleased at his grandfather’s suggestion. “We didn’t ask,” he answered. “Most of the bedrooms have secret passages to them. Evidently when the house was constructed, my ancestors liked to have discreet access to their mistresses’ bedchambers. We simply routed the air-conditioning ducts through these spaces.”

“Clever. And is that all the passages are used for these days, air-conditioning? There’s not a flurry of bed swapping every night?”

“With me, Daniel, and Grand-Papa the only residents? No way.” Jacques moved towards his grandfather, who still looked at her expectantly.

Her resistance wasn’t strong enough yet to sleep in the same building as Jacques.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine here.”

Charles wasn’t even subtle in nudging Jacques. Maya hid a smile by pretending to drink her iced coffee. Big, important Jacques de Launay controlled by his elderly grandparent.

“You are most welcome to stay at the chateau, Maya. In fact, I insist,” Jacques said.

“Is this your plan to prevent me from starting up the chainsaw again at the crack of dawn?”

“Of course not. Your comfort is my only consideration.” Not even he could say that lie with a straight face.

Looked like she was moving up to the big house. Into the lair of the beast.

***

Damn Grand-Papa and his meddling. Now he had temptation under his roof. Worse, his grandfather had insisted Clarisse’s old room was the only one suitable for their guest. Forty-two bedrooms and Maya was to have the one connected to Jacques’s.

But arguing with his grandfather was about as useful as complaining to a rock about its shape. Jacques led Maya up the stairs and to the far end of a long corridor. He halted two doors from the end and sucked in a deep breath.

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. Maybe she’d be so disgusted by the decor, she’d return to the cottage or insist on another room. Almost everything was in shades of pink, and there were ruffles on the bedspread. Ruffles. It looked like Barbie had thrown up. But at least it was cool. He couldn’t have asked his worst enemy to sleep in the cottage in this heat. And as much as it galled him to admit it, Maya was no enemy. Inconvenient, unconventional, irrational, and possibly dangerous to his self-control, yes. But he’d bet money she never set out to hurt anyone deliberately.

He placed her bag on the bench at the end of the bed. “There’s a closet through that door if you want to hang up anything. Or I can ask one of the staff to do it for you.”

“I’m pretty sure I can manage to hang up the few things I’ve brought. What’s through that door?” She pointed at another panel at the opposite side of the room, near the bed.

He strode over and opened it. “Washroom. I’ll get some towels for you.” He pulled out his phone and called the housekeeper, Marie, as Maya wandered around the room.

“My bedroom is through the connecting door in the washroom,” he said after returning his phone to his pocket.

“Wait, what? You’ve put me in a room that connects to yours?” Maya’s arms were crossed under her breasts, thrusting them up, but he forced his eyes to remain on her face.

“Is that a problem? There’s a lock on the door if you’re worried. Or you can choose one of the other rooms, and I’ll ask the housekeeper to get it ready. Grand-Papa is downstairs. Daniel’s room is down at the other end of the hall, but he’s away at the moment, doing a photo shoot for some sponsor, I think.” He turned away as he mentioned his younger brother so she couldn’t see his expression.

“Do you think I want to be closer to Daniel?”

“Most women do.” He shrugged.

She strode over to him and put her hand on his cheek, waiting until his gaze met hers.
Dieu
, did she have to touch him all the time? It was … addictive. “I am not most women. Yes, your brother is good-looking and charming, but there is no attraction between us. Now, your grandfather on the other hand, that sparkle in his eyes…”

Jacques laughed. She never said what he expected.

“Speaking of my grandfather, please be careful with him. He’s had his heart broken several times. Don’t play with his affections.”

She dropped her hand from his cheek and looked upset that he’d even suggest such a thing. “I wouldn’t. Gran-Gran used to talk of him so much, I kind of feel like he’s my grandfather, too. I will be as protective of him as you are.”

He searched her eyes. She was such a mixture, all bad-girl, biker chick one minute, softhearted migraine-reliever the next. But she seemed genuine, and, at the moment, all he could see was honest caring. Either she was a masterful player or had hidden depths. With a blind leap of faith, he replied, “Okay, I’ll see you later then. I have work to do. I should be recovered enough to see my computer screen now.”

“Don’t overdo it, Jacques. It’s better to take a day off than lose a whole week. Why don’t you come with Charles and me? Yesterday when he dropped off the wine he talked about a rose he and Gran-Gran planted. He’s going to show it to me today. Plus, you’ll be able to make sure I don’t try and wheedle any more of your inheritance out of him.”

And vixen Maya was back. “There’s nothing left to take. He transferred it all to me years ago.”

“See, you have nothing to worry about then.” She grabbed a big, floppy, white hat and strode towards the door. “We’ll be in the rose garden if your paranoia kicks up again.” Before she left, she turned back and blew him a kiss.

He twirled his wedding ring on his finger in the middle of his late-wife’s god-awful pink bedroom. He’d kept the ring on to remind himself not to put his happiness in the hands of another woman again. Except Maya was right: he was giving Clarisse power over his future. He had to rely on his judgment not to make the same mistake again. Judgment that was seriously compromised by Maya’s nearness.

The maintenance invoice still sat on his desk. He’d forgotten to take it earlier in his haste to get Maya to stop making so much noise. He could give it to her now, force her to sell the land to him, and completely destroy this chain of attraction that got stronger every time he was with her. But given the care she’d shown him this morning and the obvious bond of affection between her and his grandfather, it seemed churlish. He pulled off his wedding band and put it in his pocket.

He’d wait and see what happened. The land wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter 9

“You know Jacques is not going to like this,” Maya said but handed the helmet to Charles anyway.

His blue eyes twinkled. “What Jacques doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

She fastened the strap under Charles’s chin and then helped him mount her motorbike. They’d spent every morning together for the past two weeks, exploring the gardens or rooms in the chateau. Charles kept her amused with stories of past inhabitants, including the ancestor who had eight mistresses at one time and got so lost in the secret passages, he went missing for two days until he finally emerged in his wife’s bedchamber. His neglected wife had been so incensed at her husband’s philandering that she kept him tied to her bed until she was sure she was pregnant. After that, he’d dismissed his mistresses and never slept with anyone other than his wife again.

Was Charles hinting that she should tie Jacques to her bed until he got her pregnant? Not that she hadn’t considered it once or twice, minus the pregnancy part. Every night they sat next to each other at the dinner table, both trying to ignore the chemistry between them. Their truce was lasting so far, and Jacques seemed determined to keep his hands off her. She should be happy.

She wasn’t.

To mask her frustrated groan, she flicked the Ducati’s engine to life. “I don’t think your grandson would agree with you,” she shouted over her shoulder. Charles’s arms came around her waist, and she slowly drove them to the front gates and back to the chateau, Princess running beside them.

She hadn’t been off the grounds since she’d moved up to the big house; the lure of the outside world beckoned but she was safer where she was. She’d called her brother Sean during one of her visits back to the cottage to water her plants and pick up some painting supplies. The cops hadn’t bothered him again, so hopefully it had all blown over and they no longer needed her to testify. Maybe Etienne had turned snitch. She’d always sensed there was something different about her ex-boyfriend, like he had some secret agenda.

“I want to go to the winery,” Charles said as she shut off the engine after returning to the front of the chateau.

“Um, okay. Will your cart make it that far? Or can we borrow one of Jacques’s cars?”

Charles shook his head. “No, I want to go on the bike. There’s a road through the estate; we don’t have to go on the highway.”

“Didn’t Jacques say this morning at breakfast he was going to the winery today? Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

She’d been aware of Jacques watching them through the window in the home office whenever they strolled through the rose garden. And he hadn’t returned to Paris as expected. Instead he’d announced he was going to work from the chateau for the rest of the summer. He clearly didn’t trust her. At least he hadn’t brought up her selling the land in the last week. Although the way he stared at her sometimes, it was as though he was fighting some kind of internal battle.

“Trouble is where the fun is,” Charles replied.

Not her kind of trouble. “Your grandson doesn’t think so.”

“He’s been buried by all the responsibility of this place. He hasn’t been able to have fun in a long, long time. I think he’s forgotten how. You could show him.”

It wasn’t the first time Charles had pushed her in Jacques’s direction or tried to get her to empathize with him. “We’re too different. I’m pretty sure what I think of as fun, Jacques won’t appreciate.”

Although what did she find enjoyable now? She hadn’t missed going to clubs or parties at all. Her good times were hanging with Charles, working on her art in the afternoon, and spending her nights imagining all the wicked things she’d like to do to Jacques in the next room.

“You’ll never know until you try,” Charles said.

She wasn’t going to get anywhere arguing with him. “All right, I’ll take you to the winery. But if I get sent to my room without supper, you have to promise to bring me something to eat through the secret passages.”

“Of course.”

She’d probably pay for this later. On the plus side, Jacques was unlikely to tell her off for putting Charles’s life at risk with his grandfather there. Which meant she and Jacques would be alone.

She kicked the Ducati back to life.
Fun, here I come.

***

The deep rumble of Maya’s bike’s engine pulled Jacques from his analysis of the tartaric acid levels in the wine they were preparing to bottle. Had something happened to Grand-Papa? No, someone would have called. And it had to be the momentary worry over his grandfather that accounted for the rise in his heart rate. Not Maya’s arrival.

He put down his clipboard and went to the back door just in time to see Maya help Grand-Papa off the back of her bike. Did the woman have no sense at all?

With his thumb he rubbed the bare spot where his wedding ring used to sit. Had Maya noticed that he’d taken it off? After her diatribe at the cottage, he’d tried to put the past behind him. Which admittedly was easier now that he had a whole new set of issues to deal with.

She pulled off her leather jacket, revealing another of those infernal tops that left her midriff bare so he could admire her taut abs and belly button ring. He’d never made love to a woman with a pierced navel.

Merde
. He’d been doing so well in keeping the lust at bay, despite the fact that Maya didn’t seem to own a dress with a back and only two of those had hems longer than her upper thigh.

Princess flopped at his feet, her tongue lolling out. He tightened his lips before he had the same expression as the dog. Maya raised her arms to refasten her ponytail, and her shirt rode up so that it barely covered the bottom of her breasts. To distract himself, he got a bowl of water for Princess.

“Hello, Jacques, we’ve come for a visit,” Grand-Papa said after removing his helmet. Maya had a hand under his elbow and steered him toward the bench against the wall.

“So I see. You could have used one of the cars.”

“I wanted a ride on Maya’s Ducati. I haven’t felt so alive in years. Have you ridden her?”

Maya tried to hide a smirk but failed.

Jacques’s gaze caught hers and held it. “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

A faint pink hue stained Maya’s cheeks. So, the bad-girl could blush.

“You should try it some time,” Grand-Papa insisted.

“I’ll discuss that with Maya later.” He forced his eyes back to his grandfather. He did look remarkably well. There was color in his cheeks and a huge smile on his face. His grandfather had found a new lease on life, thanks to Maya.

The maintenance invoice still sat on his desk, waiting for the appropriate time to present to her. Except that time never came. In the mornings she was out walking the gardens with his grandfather, her bubbly laughter filling the air and disturbing his peace of mind as he tried to work. In the afternoons she was in one of the salons, working on her art. He’d checked on her a couple of times and been amazed at the quality of her work. So he’d asked her to paint a picture of Grand-Papa, Daniel, and himself. It would make a perfect present for his grandfather on the next special occasion. So it seemed rude to give her a bill when she was working on a commission for him, one she’d refused to charge for, claiming her room and board was payment enough.

Then in the evenings, they’d have drinks in the
petit salon
before enjoying a meal that often lasted more than two hours. Not because there was so much food, but because they talked so much, it took a while to eat. Grand-Papa would tell stories of before the war, Maya would tell tales of her Gran-Gran, and they’d both tease Jacques about never having gone camping or learned to ride a bike, or a million and one other things normal children did that he’d missed out on.

To get them off his back, he’d bragged that he and Daniel had stolen the chef’s baking pans one rainy day and had tried to luge down the stairs. Maya had asked for a reenactment, and he’d had to admit that he still had a chip in his coccyx and Daniel had ended up with cracked a rib, so it wasn’t something either of them were likely to do again.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” His gaze automatically returned to Maya.

“I wanted to see how the latest vintage was coming alone,” Grand-Papa answered.

As far as he knew, his grandfather hadn’t visited the winery in years. He was up to something again. But it was nice that he was at least feigning an interest in something Jacques was passionate about. “Come have a taste,” Jacques invited.

“Have you done a wine tasting before, Maya?” Grand-Papa looked up at her as she took his arm and helped him across the loose gravel.

“Oh, yes. I recently had a private lesson. I’m a certified wine snob now.” Her sexy laugh accompanied her statement.

“Jacques has an amazing palate. He can tell the blend of a wine from one sip.”

Maya’s eyes met his. “I had heard he was good with his tongue,” she said.

Now it was his turn to blush. He ushered them inside and called for one of the staff to set up a tasting in the private cellar. Grand-Papa excused himself to use the facilities, leaving Jacques alone with Maya for a moment.

“It was reckless of you to bring Grand-Papa on your bike. What if he’d fallen off? Something as minor as a broken bone can kill him at his age.”

“I know, but he insisted and I was extremely careful. When he looks at me with those blue eyes, I can’t deny him.”

Lucky Grand-Papa. “I have the same blue eyes. Can you deny me?”

She took a step closer, right into his personal space. The heat from her body, her seductive perfume enveloped him. “What do you want, Jacques?”

“You.” The word was out before his brain engaged. He braced himself for a slap, but all he got was a wicked smile.

“I thought I was too dangerous.” She traced his lips with her index finger. One finger and he was hard.

“I seem to have developed a taste for danger.”

“I wonder what your refined palate will make of that?” She stepped back as Grand-Papa entered the room.

His grandfather’s gaze swept between the two of them, his smile widening as both Jacques and Maya tried to pretend they hadn’t been seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off.

“I think the bike ride took it out of me,” Grand-Papa said. “I’ll skip the wine tasting and head back home.” Maya turned towards the door, but before she could take two steps, Grand-Papa continued. “No, Maya, you stay and try the wine. I’ll drive Jacques’s car back and take Princess with me, I don’t think she should run back to the chateau in this heat. Then Jacques can return with you on your bike when you’re done.”

Jacques shook his head. “Very subtle, Grand-Papa. And I thought it was old ladies who were matchmakers.”

“At my age, I don’t have time to be subtle. Hand over your keys, Jacques. I’ll take the road through the estate so you don’t have to worry about me on the highway.”

Yes, that’s what I’m worried about. Not spontaneous combustion with Maya’s incredible ass between my thighs.

He handed his keys to his grandfather, then had to wait while the staff member set up the tasting. When he was alone again with Maya he handed her a glass and waited while she swirled the liquid and examined its color.

She’d taken Grand-Papa’s dumping her at his feet rather well. “Sorry about my grandfather, dragging you over here.”

“I don’t mind. It’s sweet how he thinks we should get together. I mean, I know it’s because I’m the only woman around, aside from your staff. It’s not like we’re really suited or anything.” She held the glass to the light. “This one’s more of a magenta color.”

“Why don’t you think we’re suited?”

She took several sips of the wine. “I’m getting hints of cinnamon and maybe blackberries?”

“You haven’t answered my question.” He took the now empty glass from her hand.

“Oh, come on, Jacques. Aside from the ‘you’re a woman and I’m a man so seduction is always in the cards’ thing, I am so not your type.”

“What is my type?”

“Is this a wine tasting, or are you looking to set up an online dating profile?”

It was the first sign of nervousness he’d seen from her. He pressed his advantage. “What’s my type, Maya?”

“Smart, sophisticated, elegant, maybe a little on the snobby side.”

“You are all those things.”

“Really? You think I’m a snob?”

“You freely admitted to being a wine snob earlier, and you’ve just expertly categorized my new vintage. But you forgot beautiful, sensuous, and funny off your list of qualities.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I’ve seen another side to you in the two weeks you’ve been at the big house. Your prickly pear outside hides a soft, squishy interior.” A strand of her hair had sprung loose from her ponytail. He curled it around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. Did she just tremble at his touch?

“Well, you’re still the same Jacques. Why haven’t you asked me to sell you the land lately?”

He smiled. So, she thought throwing their unresolved dispute between them would stop him? This vulnerable Maya was a new side to her. Or was she playing him again? “I was waiting for the right opportunity.”

“Then you’re wasting your time. I won’t sell.” She put her hands on her hips, which thrust her chest out towards him. Putting his hands over hers, he pulled her against him.