The Vintner and the Vixen (Vintage Love Book 1)

by Alexia Adams

  “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.

  “So, where does that leave us?”

  “At opposite sides of the boxing ring.”

  “Boxers are only on opposite sides of the ring at the start of the match. They spend most of the bout as close as we are now.”

  “Until one of them gets knocked to the ground.”

  “I’m not looking to knock you out, Maya. I just want back what’s rightfully mine.”

  “And that’s where we disagree.”

  “There is one thing we can agree on.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “This passion between us.” He took her lips in a blistering kiss. Her hands escaped from under his to roam up his chest and into his hair. The air-conditioning couldn’t cope with the heat they were generating. They kissed until he was dizzy. Then he forced his lips to release hers and moved to her ear. “I forgot rule number two—no condoms.”

  “You are really rusty at this seduction thing, aren’t you?” She stepped back and fixed her hair, which had tumbled down during their passionate embrace.

  “In my defense, I came to work. I didn’t expect you to show up and drive me insane.” He buttoned his shirt back up; it would be a couple minutes before he could tuck it in again.

  “It’s probably for the best.”

  “Maya—”

  “Can you get a ride back to the house, Jacques? I need some time alone to think.”

  He nodded, and she was out the door before he could even tell her to drive carefully.

  Dieu, what was he going to do? Because at the moment he had only two options—kick her out of his life for good, or take her to bed.

  Chapter 10

  This was the do-or-die moment. Her grip tightened on the door handle to Jacques’s room. All she had to do was push it open.

  After fleeing the winery that afternoon, she’d ridden as far west as she could until she’d come to the Atlantic. There, as vacationers enjoyed the hot summer day with ice creams, she’d taken off her boots and walked the beach, imagining that the water lapping her ankles had also once been on the shores of Canada. She couldn’t go back. And she couldn’t go forward.

  How could she even contemplate a relationship with Jacques, knowing that any second Tony, or the RCMP for that matter, would find her and either kill her or take her to jail, which was pretty much the same thing?

  But she couldn’t stay at the chateau, even at the cottage, without doing something. The chemistry between her and Jacques was too explosive to ignore. Either she pushed him away or she pulled him closer. She knew which one her body wanted. Was it fair to offer him an affair with no future? But even without the price on her head, what real chance did they have? They were too different to be able to make something permanent work. Besides, she wasn’t ready to settle down yet.

  She knew she had to return the land, and probably the cottage, to the de Launay family. It wasn’t right for her to keep what had been in their family for centuries. If she managed to stay in hiding, and as soon as she lived up to her promise to Gran-Gran to spend a year concentrating on her art, she’d make a deal with Jacques. Nothing like the 10 million euros he’d offered. Maybe just enough to get a small place in a neighboring village. There was nothing in Canada for her to go back to. Her life, for as long as she had one, was here now.

  But in the meantime, what should she do about Jacques? Maybe a short-term affair would clear the air of the lust-haze that enveloped them. Once they’d satisfied their passions, they could both go back to their original truce agreement. Yeah, her body had definitely overruled her brain on that decision. On the way back to the chateau, she’d stopped at a pharmacy and bought the biggest box of condoms they sold.

  So, here she stood, outside his bedroom dressed in her most seductive negligee, because if you were going to renegotiate an agreement, you should do it from a position of strength.

  The handle turned smoothly in her hand, the door opening with a slight creak.

  There was a rustling noise from across the room and then a pool of light as Jacques sat up and turned on the lamp beside his bed. He blinked a couple of times then his lips curled upward in a slow, sensuous smile. How many women have fallen victim to that smile? Maya was no victim. She wanted this.

  “Do you need something, Maya?”

  “I want to renegotiate our initial truce.”

  “Oh, why’s that?” She should wipe that sexy smile off his face by walking back out the door right now. Except the way his eyes devoured her body made her want his touch even more.

  “Because it doesn’t seem to be working.”

  “I agree. So what part exactly do you want to renegotiate?”

  “I’d like to do away completely with rule one.”

  “The one about us not touching each other?”

  “Yes. And I’m going to take responsibility for rule two.” She plonked the box of condoms on the bedside table.

  “I did have that covered, just not at the winery.” He opened the drawer next to his bed to reveal three new-looking boxes of protection and a host of lubricants, including massage oil.

  “There are a few additional terms.”

  “I’m listening.” By staring at her barely concealed breasts?

  “This is a short-term, thirty-day, sex-only affair. I don’t own you, you don’t own me, although if you want to sleep with other women, I’d appreciate if you’d let me know.”

  “I won’t sleep with other women.”

  “I don’t expect expressions of love, and if you even once mention money, I’ll slap your rich-boy face into tomorrow.”

  “No love, no money. Got it.”

  “And for thirty days, neither of us brings up ownership of the cottage or the land. Those things have nothing to do with this.” She waved her hand between them. “This is just to get rid of the lust between us. Nothing more.” God, I sound like a tramp.

  “I have one question.”

  “Make it quick.” She’d thought a discussion between two half-naked people would go faster than this.

  “What if thirty days isn’t enough?”

  “Then I guess we renegotiate that when the time comes.”

  “I agree to your
revised truce agreement. How do we seal this? A handshake?” His blue eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and desire. Oh great, another de Launay she wasn’t going to be able to deny. He reached for her hand and tugged her towards him. She may not be able to resist, but damned if she’d give up control.

  “I noticed you rubbing the back of your neck at dinner. I don’t want you to get a migraine. So lay down, face up, with your feet the other side of the bed. We’ll start with a cranial massage.”

  He hesitated. “I want to touch you. I’ve been waiting weeks for this. For you to come to me.”

  “Later. My turn first.” Because it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge, and she wanted to eek the most pleasure out of this moment as possible.

  He moved to comply. “Are you always this bossy in bed?”

  “A lot of the time.” She began to massage his scalp and his eyes drifted closed, a low moan of pleasure escaped his lips. After making sure there was no residual tension in his neck, she asked him to turn over.

  She grabbed the massage oil from his drawer and then straddled him. She’d just found a model for her next sculpture. Men’s backs had always been challenging for her to recreate, but under her fingers she had perfection. Pouring some of the lubricant into her hands, she worked her way from his broad shoulders down his spine to his narrow waist, allowing her fingers to slip under his hip bone at the front. She eased off his boxer shorts. He wouldn’t be able to lay on his stomach for much longer. She’d better be quick. Her hands slid down one leg and up the other. His moans of pleasure grew louder.

  “Maya, please…”

  “I like a man who begs. You can turn over now. Arms to the side.”

  He turned so fast she almost fell off the bed. “I’m not begging…” He reached for the hem of her baby doll nightie, but she grabbed his hands and placed them back on the bed. “Okay, I’m begging. I have to touch you, taste you, feel your body against mine. You’re driving me insane.”

  “Not yet.” She was having too much fun to relinquish control now. She sat back on her ankles and massaged his feet then worked her way up his legs, lingering on his upper thigh, gradually increasing her circles. A long moan escaped his lips as she touched him.

  Her games were taking a toll on her as well. She was so desperate to have him inside her, fill her, she could barely think. She let go of him long enough to grab the box off the bedside table. Ripping the condom packet open with her teeth, she rolled it on him and his eyes flew open. She lifted her hips up and lowered herself onto him. He was so big, it took a few seconds for her body to adjust. Pleasure zinged through every pore. Jacques still had his arms spread wide on the bed, giving her total control. It was almost as heady as the feel of him twitching inside her.

  Their gazes locked as she began to move on him, slowly at first, but then the ability to pace herself disappeared. Her nightie clung to her perspiration-damp skin so she lifted it off. Her breasts bounced as she rode Jacques, her breath coming in pants. With a shout of triumph she climaxed seconds before he followed her over the edge.

  She collapsed on top of him, and finally his hands came off the bed and held her tightly against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, their bodies still fused. His cock twitched within her and her body responded by clenching around him.

  “Dieu, Maya, you found every single one of my un-gentleman buttons. You’re in for a world of pleasure now.”

  She raised her head from his chest. The sexy smile was back, and his face was flushed with pleasure. This is how she should have drawn him while he slept on her bed in the cottage.

  “I look forward to it.” Then she kissed him.

  He was right. Thirty days may not be enough.

  ***

  Something weighed Jacques down as he floated to consciousness. He reached up to remove the object and encountered soft hair and a warm breast. This was how a man should wake up every morning. If it could still be considered morning. Dawn had been breaking when they’d both finally been satiated enough to fall asleep.

  They’d made love four times. After Maya’s dominance the first time, he’d taken charge for the second round, making her orgasm twice before he’d entered her and then not allowing his body release until she’d come again with him inside her. After that it had been a free-for-all as they’d learned each other’s bodies and found pleasure together. And he’d discovered three more tattoos—some scrollwork at the base of her spine, a cupcake on her hip bone that she particularly liked to be licked, and a fox on her upper thigh.

  As intense as the sex had been, they’d also had fun, making each other laugh and playing games.

  Between rounds three and four, Maya had made him take her down to the kitchen using the secret passages. They’d returned to his bedroom with purloined chocolate croissants but had been so covered in dust and cobwebs that they’d showered together. It was a good thing there was no one else in this wing of the house because Maya was a very vocal lover, shouting encouragement and screaming her pleasure.

  Jacques felt like a god. A very hungry god. It was going to take more than pain au chocolat to replace the calories he’d burned in the night.

  Maya stirred on his chest and raised her beautiful face. Her cognac-colored eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “Good morning. How’s your head?”

  “Both are well, thank you.”

  “Such formality the morning after. Do I need to find your un-gentleman buttons and press them again?”

  “No, they’re permanently disabled where you’re concerned.”

  “At least in the bedroom … and the shower … that cute little alcove downstairs beside the library…”

  “I promise to ravage you again in all those locations. But first I need to eat.”

  She stretched her lithe body, sliding off him. He missed her warmth, and rather than get out of bed, he rolled to his side so he could watch her.

  “As king of this castle, can’t you get breakfast delivered? I’m not sure my legs will work well enough to make it downstairs,” she said.

  “I’m not a king, just a comte-in-waiting. But I think that will rank me high enough to get breakfast brought to us.” He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and sent a text to Marie, the housekeeper. When he put the phone down, Maya sat up, the sheet falling to her waist. She wasn’t self-conscious about her body; it was one of the many things he admired about her.

  “Hold on a sec, did you just say you’re a comte? What’s that? Some sort of aristocrat?”

  “Grand-Papa is the current Comte de Vendee. I’ll inherit the title when he no longer uses it.” Even though his grandfather was ninety-five, Jacques still couldn’t contemplate a time when the old man wouldn’t be around. He’d been the one constant in Jacques’s life through all the ups and downs. Especially the downs.

  “I thought the French beheaded all their aristocracy.”

  “A few of us managed to survive. The title is purely historical. I have no authority, except maybe to get my breakfast delivered when I can’t be bothered to get out of my bed after it’s been invaded by a beautiful woman.” She tilted her head to one side, staring at him. This was the oddest morning after he’d ever had. Not that there’d been a lot of them, especially since Clarisse’s death. “What’s the matter? Don’t I live up to your expectation of a comte?”

  “Can’t say I have any expectations where comtes are concerned. The only counts I know are Dracula, Chocula, and the one on Sesame Street who helps kids with their numbers.”

  “I probably fall somewhere between the second and third one.”

  “Well, just in case, I’ll be checking for bite marks on my neck. But I’ve seen you in the daylight, so I’m probably safe. What’s your full name? Don’t aristocrats usually have like hundreds of names?”

  “Jacques Charles Henri de Launay. Not hundreds, only three. Sorry to disappoint.”

  She leaned down then and stopped with her lips hovering over his. “Let’s get one thing clear, Jacques Charles Henr
i de Launay, next Comte de Vendee, you do not disappoint.” She kissed him then, long and slow, her tongue and lips making love to his. His cock stirred to life, ready to take on the challenge of not disappointing Maya.

  His hand found its way to her breast just as there was a loud knock at the door.

  “I don’t want to embarrass Marie,” Maya said as she slid out of the bed. “I’ll use the washroom while you get breakfast sorted.” With a sassy smile and a wave she disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

  By the time she emerged a few minutes later wearing a short satin wrap, he had breakfast laid out on the round table that had sat in the corner since he’d moved into this room five years ago. It had probably been there for centuries. He couldn’t imagine either his mother or grandmother ever having breakfast ensuite after a night of pleasure. So it probably hadn’t been used in generations. There were a lot of things this house hadn’t seen in generations. Like laughter in the bedroom and a happy marriage. At least he could rectify one of those things.

  He poured Maya a coffee and uncovered the platter with the omelet. “I ordered enough for two.”

  “Yum, thanks. Amazing how hungry a person gets after a night of fun.”

  “It’s also eleven o’clock. So your body is probably missing breakfast.”

  “The only thing my body is missing is yours. But I’ll let you eat first.” She stole the toast he’d just buttered right out of his fingers, then looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “Your room is nice. How come it’s not as badly decorated as the rest of the house?”

  He buttered another slice of toast and took a mouthful before she had a chance to steal that one as well. “I don’t think Clarisse ever set foot in here. The decor is left over from when my parents had the room.”

  “Your wife never set foot in your bedroom? Not even for a booty call?” She stared at him wide-eyed, her breakfast forgotten.

  “She wasn’t interested in sex. Thought it was too messy.”