The Vintner and the Vixen (Vintage Love Book 1)

by Alexia Adams

  “It was before your time, chérie. My father, like my son, ran the winery. So I knew about the years the staff went with little or no pay, only staying on because they had food and a place to sleep at night.”

  “My great-grandmother was a feisty woman. I don’t think she’d let Charles’s mother scare her off.” Maya shook her head. She’d often sensed there was more to Gran-Gran’s story. Madame Boudreau’s frail hand reached for Maya’s. It was so like her great-grandmother’s that Maya blinked back a tear. She missed her so much.

  Madame Boudreau continued her story. “Yvette left because she was convinced it was the best thing for the family. If Charles married the woman his parents wanted him to, the estate would be saved. It broke her heart, but there was no talking her around once she’d made her decision. Charles doesn’t know though. I debated for years whether to tell him but decided to let sleeping dogs lie. His heart was broken after Yvette left. Knowing the truth wouldn’t have made a difference.” Madame Boudreau let go of Maya’s hand and wiped a tear from her own eye. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Even this little talk seemed to have winded the elderly lady.

  Charles had told her things had been difficult, but Maya hadn’t realized the family had been on the verge of insolvency. And then to have his love leave him allegedly for another man. At least Jacques had turned around the family fortunes, although his score in the love department seemed to be as bad as his grandfather’s. Inadvertently, the de Launays’ financial problems had been solved at the expense of love. Was there a way to redress the balance? Show them the way back to love?

  Oh God, she wasn’t falling in love with Jacques, was she? It was supposed to be a bit of fun, two trains and all that. Her hand shook as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Madame Boudreau tried to lift the big box on her lap, her thin arms shaking under the weight. “This is Yvette’s engagement dress and shoes. She’d saved all her money for a year to buy it. She gave it to me before she left for Canada. Said she’d never wear it again. But I think you should have it.”

  Maya struggled not to cry as she took the white box from Michelle’s mother-in-law. She lifted the lid and that was it. The tears streamed down her face, although she was careful to keep them from falling onto the navy-blue satin. One last present from Gran-Gran.

  “It’s in good condition,” Michelle said. “Will you try it on? Mama would love to see it on you.”

  Maya nodded, not trusting her voice to work. She went into the house and lifted the beautiful gown from the box. It had been lovingly preserved, and there wasn’t a stain or tear on it. Racing upstairs, she quickly changed. She couldn’t believe it fit. Well mostly. Maya’s boobs were a little more exposed than was probably considered appropriate back in the 1940s. Halter-neck, it was backless and fell in soft folds from the hips to pool around her feet. Two light blue panels of the sheerest silk hung from her shoulders down the back. It was elegant, sexy … and priceless because it had belonged to the woman she’d loved. She wiped her eyes and then put on the delicate, strapped shoes.

  Gran-Gran must have been so happy when she’d worn the dress. Maya was on the edge of happiness but too scared to take it. What if Big Tony found her? She’d have to leave, maybe even without explaining why. Would Jacques be upset if she left suddenly as her great-grandmother had? They’d agreed a thirty-day affair, although he’d skillfully negotiated an extension to account for the time he was away. Would he want more? Could she give him more, knowing her heart was becoming involved?

  Maya returned to the car to show the Boudreaus, making sure the small train from the dress didn’t drag on the pebble drive.

  “You are as beautiful as Yvette,” Madame Boudreau declared. “You must wear it to the harvest festival.”

  “But won’t that upset Charles?” The dress was perfect. And she’d like to look nice for Jacques. But not at the expense of Charles’s feelings.

  “Men rarely remember what a woman wore,” Michelle said. “And knowing Charles, if he even recognizes the dress, he’ll be pleased to see it on another woman he cares for.”

  Maya simply nodded, unable to form another word. This dress was the symbol of her great-grandmother’s sacrifice. Evidence of a love so deep, she’d given up her own happiness to ensure the one she loved was better off. Did Maya have that kind of love in her? Michelle’s voice brought her back to the moment.

  “When the festival is finished and you have more time, Mama would like you to come and visit. She has lots of stories of your great-grandmother to share.”

  Maya smiled through her tears. “I’d love that. I miss Gran-Gran so much. It would be fabulous to talk to someone else who knew her as well.”

  Michelle got back in the car, and, after exchanging kisses through the window with Madame Boudreau, Maya waved them goodbye.

  She now had the dress. Would the evening bring her love? Or heartache?

  Chapter 14

  Jacques scanned the faces at the airport, searching for his driver. Instead Daniel stood there, wearing a chauffeur hat and carrying a sign with Jacques’s name on it. His brother’s antics made him smile. But the warmth coursing through him had more to do with the knowledge that in half an hour he’d have his arms around Maya. Ten minutes after that he hoped to have her naked body pressed against his. That was the homecoming he wanted after sixteen nights away.

  “You moonlighting?” Jacques asked as Daniel reached for his bag.

  “Grand-Papa sent me.”

  “Is he okay? Is Maya okay?” Jacques scanned his brother’s face, a trickle of fear replacing the warmth of a minute ago. Dieu, what if Maya had crashed on that motorbike of hers? She drove it too fast, and there wasn’t even a scrap of metal to protect her. His stomach churned. He couldn’t go through that again.

  “Both are fine,” Daniel replied quickly. “We want to talk to you about Maya.”

  They exited the airport and Daniel directed him towards his Mercedes parked as far away from all the other cars as possible. “What about Maya?”

  “According to Grand-Papa, you’re having an affair.”

  Jacques shrugged. He wasn’t a man to kiss and tell. Or in the case of Maya, have multiple never-before-experienced orgasms and then brag about it. “Is that what you want to talk about, my relationship with Maya?”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted his brother or grandfather’s interference. What he and Maya shared was too explosive to involve other parties.

  “In a way. We’re concerned that you’ll let your experience with Clarisse stop you from letting Maya into your heart.”

  Jacques stopped walking. Really? Relationship advice from the world-famous playboy who’d never had more than two dates with the same woman? “First, it wasn’t an ‘experience with Clarisse’—it was a god-awful marriage. Second, I want Maya in my bed, not my heart.”

  Daniel laughed and carried on walking so Jacques had to jog to catch up with him. Or take a taxi home. That was looking like the better option at the moment.

  “That ship has left the harbor, mon frère. You may think you’re just banging her, but that woman is so deep inside you, you don’t know where you finish and she starts.”

  “You’re a prick, do you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told. But the word coming down from Grand-Papa is it’s time to move on and give Maya the chance she deserves.”

  “She takes risks—drives that bike of hers too fast and climbs ladders with a heavy chainsaw—how can I live with that? Knowing she could be hurt or killed? I can’t go there again.” It was the shallowest of the deep, dark places he wasn’t going to again, but Daniel didn’t need to know that.

  “Maya takes risks at the moment because she has nothing to lose. I’ll bet you anything that once she knows you feel something more for her than lust, she’ll be extra careful because she won’t want to worry you.”

  “I don’t know. She’s a wild child; she’s lived her life on the edge.”

  “And that’s why you’re the perfec
t couple. You can teach her control. And she can help get rid of that pole you’ve got shoved up your ass. Don’t let your woman slip away like Grand-Papa did. Hold on to her, Jacques.”

  “Maya and I can’t live the life that Charles and Yvette should have had.”

  Daniel let loose a frustrated sigh. “He doesn’t want you to live the life he wanted. He wants you to live the life you deserve. A life with a good woman at your side and a house full of children to keep you from forgetting what’s really important: family.”

  “No child can replace the one I lost. You don’t just forget something like that.” Jacques shut down the horrific memory of staring into Clarisse’s dead eyes, knowing he’d never look into his child’s.

  “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking you to cherish the memory and find a way forward. Don’t let Clarisse destroy your future as she’s done your past. You can still have a family, Jacques. Marry for love and for lust this time.”

  “I’m a long way from considering marriage. But I’ll think about what you said.” It’d be right up there on his to-do list, next to getting his prostate checked.

  “Good. My job is done. Now I just have to drive you home, say hi to Grand-Papa, and kiss Maya. Then I can get back to a very interesting blond who’s waiting for me in Paris.”

  “In that case, I’ll save you one step and kiss Maya for you.”

  Daniel laughed again and Jacques gritted his teeth. It had been a while since he’d punched his brother in the face, but he was coming mighty close now.

  “See, you’ve got it bad, brother. Might as well get measured for my wedding tux now.”

  “Shut up and drive.”

  ***

  Jacques chest tightened incrementally as he searched for Maya. She’d not been in the hallway with his grandfather. Maybe Grand-Papa had asked her to wait elsewhere so he could ascertain how the conversation with Daniel had gone. But after a quick welcome home, his grandfather had gone off to watch some TV show in his room, leaving Jacques to find Maya.

  He checked the ballroom first—maybe she was already setting up for the party and lost track of time. Aside from an amazing transformation, the room was empty. Next up was the petit salon where they always met for drinks before dinner. He stood for several minutes just admiring the changes. It had gone from over-the-top ostentatious to warm and comfortable. A room a family could enjoy. The walls were painted in an ombré style, starting off a warm reddish-pink before brightening to a soft yellow, like sunrise turning to day. Photos of him and Daniel as children and adults now adorned the top of the drinks cabinet and other surfaces. The uncomfortable furniture had been replaced with stylish pieces that invited a person to relax. There was even a dog basket tucked into the corner. But no dog. And no Maya.

  The ache in his chest grew stronger. He now had a home fit for a family. All he needed was the family.

  Was she waiting for him in his room? During their nightly video chats, she’d lounged in his bed, often wearing the most seductive lingerie he’d ever seen. After each call, he’d had to take a very long, cold shower to even manage a few hours of sleep. He took the stairs two at a time. The disappointment when she wasn’t there hit him like a TGV train at full speed.

  Having looked in all the likely locations for Maya, he finally asked Marie, who told him she’d moved back to the cottage. Had Maya bored of him already? Moved on because he’d been gone for more than two weeks? During their calls they’d flirted and teased, but it wasn’t the same as being with her. Maya had told him about the preparations for the festival and asked him at length about his business trip, pretending to be very interested in what he was doing. Maybe she’d felt uncomfortable staying at the house when he wasn’t there. He would convince her that she belonged at the chateau.

  She belonged.

  Maybe Daniel was right. It was time to let go of the past and move forward. Jacques jogged the last fifty meters to the cottage. He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. Maya’s motorbike was parked out front, so chances were she was at home. He went around the side of the cottage, calling softly to Princess so he didn’t startle the dog.

  Princess ran up to him and nuzzled his hand, expecting a pat. He fondled the dog’s ears and then resumed walking. It was Princess’s owner he really wanted to greet.

  The first thing he saw on rounding the corner was a two-meter tall wooden statue. The back of a shirtless man was all he could see, the contours of the muscles so lifelike he was in awe. At the front of the statue, he gasped. The man had his arms around a pregnant woman, their hands intertwined on her extended belly. The woman’s head was tilted back and she was staring up at the man in love. The man looked down at her with amazement in his eyes. The piece was so detailed, the emotion so evident, Jacques locked his knees to keep from running away. Maya was an incredible artist.

  But why had she chosen to create this scene of domestic bliss in wood? Instead of the sharp stab to the chest at the reminder of all he’d lost, there was a fluttery feeling, as though a butterfly had emerged from its cocoon and was testing its wings. The future beckoned.

  But first he had to find Maya.

  He spun on his heel at a soft snuffle sound and found her lying on the lounger. Her hair was a halo of claret against the white fabric of the chair, framing her beautiful face. A chisel lay on the paving stone as if it had fallen from her open palm. As he stepped closer he could see wood shavings scattered throughout her hair and on her clothes, a couple of nicks on her hands. She looked so at peace, he couldn’t wake her. No matter how much he longed to hold her and kiss her hello.

  He pulled up a chair and sat where he could admire both the art and the artist. Each time he looked at the carving, he saw another detail: the rings on both their left hands. For all her talk about wanting just a short fling, did she long for a deeper, more committed relationship? The light landed oddly on the belly of the woman and he moved closer. There was an extremely faint outline of a baby’s tiny foot on the abdomen. That incredible precision sent a shiver through him. He ran a finger over the tiny bump and closed his eyes on the flood of emotion it generated. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and caressed the tiny footprint one last time.

  He’d wait for Maya at the chateau, leave her a note to come up when she woke. As he turned to find a pen and paper in the cottage, her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked twice before a beatific smile curved her lips. Dieu, she was beautiful. There was no way on this planet he could stop from smiling in return. Maya had brought happiness and laughter back into his life. He was going to put everything he had into making this relationship succeed—push aside his fears and fight for what he wanted. And if it didn’t work, he could at least say he tried. If it did, he’d have gained the greatest prize ever: Maya.

  ***

  Damn, she must be more exhausted than she thought, because now she was hallucinating. Jacques was staring at her like the man in the sculpture. Sure, she’d created the man in his image. She’d even carved the back muscles by putting her arms around from the front, her memory of hours spent running her hands over Jacques’s muscular torso her inspiration. But she’d been careful not to transfer his actual face onto the wooden sculpture. Nor hers. That would be too obvious.

  “Hi.” He dropped to his knees next to her lounger and placed his hand on her cheek.

  He was real. Real and more gorgeous than she remembered. Had he always had those crinkles beside his eyes when he smiled?

  “Hi back.” As far as scintillating conversation went, this was pathetic. But hey, she’d just worked twenty-two hours straight on the sculpture, thanks to the powerful floodlights she’d borrowed from the chateau, before literally falling onto the lounger. It would take a while for her brain to start functioning again.

  “Your piece is amazing, breathtaking. What do you call it?”

  Desire? Fantasy? You? “Future Perfect.”

  “It fits. I’ve missed you, Maya.” He bent and kissed her lightly before trailing his lips acro
ss her cheek to her ear. She was acutely aware that she was a complete mess, it had been at least thirty hours since she’d showered and her breath smelled like the million cups of coffee she’d drank to finish the project once she’d started. She’d never had an obsession like that to complete a piece. Well, unless you counted her compulsion to imprint Jacques’s taste and feel onto her body. Speaking of which…

  “I missed you, too. But I need a shower before I can show you how much.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her into the house, firmly telling Princess to stay when she started to follow them upstairs. Flicking on the water, he then came back to her and started undressing her, stopping every few seconds to caress her skin. She returned the favor, removing his clothes piece by piece. By the time they entered the shower, her skin was so on fire from his touch, she wasn’t sure if the water would put out the flames.

  Despite sixteen days of abstinence, they made love slowly, rediscovering each other’s bodies, prolonging the pleasure. When at last Jacques entered her, the beauty of the moment formed tears in her eyes. Sex had never made her cry before. Thank God the shower hid the emotional outburst from him. Last thing she wanted was to scare him off. Maya Tessier, destroyer of men, falling for the next Comte de Vendee.

  Oh, Gran-Gran, I can’t follow in your footsteps. I’m not strong enough to give him up even though I could ruin the family. If Big Tony finds me…

  “What you do to me, Maya,” Jacques said into her ear. His voice was husky with a note of tenderness. It might be the exhaustion, but something had changed about him since his return. Had he really lowered the drawbridge so she could walk across the moat and into his heart? His eyes met hers as they climaxed together. Oh God, this was so real.

  When he finally slid from her body, she clung to him, not wanting him to leave. “I don’t think I can stand.”

  He scooped her up in his arms, waited while she grabbed the towels off the rack, and then carried her through to her bedroom. He wrapped her hair in a towel then laid her down on the bed. He started to dry her using another towel, but when he got to her chest, he replaced the towel with his tongue, swirling patterns over her breasts, licking drops of water from her hardened nipples. She was floating on a cloud of desire; Jacques was the only thing in her world. It was more than enough.