The Vintner and the Vixen (Vintage Love Book 1) (14 page)

Everyone commented on the beauty and detail of Maya’s art. Several even offered to purchase the statue. Maya looked torn about selling her work, and he wasn’t about to let it go. Not when it meant so much to him personally. “I’m sorry, the piece is already sold,” he told one persistent person.

“You sold my work without talking to me?” Maya asked when they had two seconds alone. The fire in her eyes warned him to tread carefully.

“I want it. I’ll pay double what anyone else offers, or you can name your price.”

She smiled and he caught his breath. Would he ever get used to her effect on him? “We can negotiate a price tonight, when we’re alone.” The event planner signaled to her from across the room. “Excuse me. I need to check on something, I’ll be right back.”

“Want company?” His hand had more than once itched to stray from her bare back to the curve of her ass so perfectly displayed in navy satin.

Another of her sexy smiles and his pants became too tight. “Later. Save a dance for me.”

The band had begun playing and people were dancing at the end of the ballroom. His gaze was firmly fixed on Maya’s backside as she strode toward the door.

“Really, Jacques,”
Maman
said as she approached, sipping a glass of sparkling wine. “Can you not be a bit discreet? Parading your lover so blatantly in public is beneath someone of your social position.”

“We’re not in public. This is my home. And Maya is more than my lover.”
So much more
. “Plus I no longer take advice from you, especially about relationships. Speaking of which, where is your husband?”

“In bed with some other woman, knowing him.”

He wasn’t rising to the bait.
Maman
was hardly one to complain about marital fidelity, given Daniel’s birth while she was still legally married to Jacques’s father. Then as soon as she’d married Thierry Martin, her sons had been inconvenient to her new life and they’d both been left to live with Grand-Papa. “Why are you here?”

“To see my sons.”

“Cut the crap. We’ve been here for years and you’ve never come before.”

She shrugged, clearly not caring that he’d seen through her lie. “Thierry wants a divorce. And due to the prenuptial agreement, I will have only a fraction of my current income.”

“You want money.” She nodded. “I owe you nothing. I suggest you start shopping for husband number three,” he said.

“Oh, I already have. Pierre is away on business at the moment, but he wants to meet you. He has this company. It’s failing at the moment, but with the right injection of capital…”

Maman
would never change. Never say, “It’s nice to see you happy for once, Jacques.” He gritted his teeth. “Enough. I’m not discussing this with you now. I need to check on Grand-Papa, make sure he’s okay.”

He walked away without looking back.

Grand-Papa was talking with some old friends and waved at Jacques. At least someone was enjoying the party. When Maya hadn’t returned twenty minutes later, he went looking for her. Maybe she needed a minute alone and had escaped to the
petit salon
. Discreet security personnel were stationed throughout the house, keeping guests away from the family areas, the
petit salon
being one of them. As he approached he heard her talking. Damn, she wasn’t alone. He’d been hoping for a taster of tonight’s private activities.

“You think you’re going to be his second wife, don’t you?” The shrillness in his mother’s tone reminded him of the fight his parents had before
Maman
left—the accusations of infidelity, the hateful words she’d screamed as she realized she’d lost it all. Whatever game she was playing now, Maya obviously wasn’t as easy to intimidate as
Maman
had expected.

“Jacques and I haven’t discussed marriage,” Maya replied calmly. “But if we did, I can tell you this, I have no intention of being his second wife.”

His blood froze.

Chapter 17

It was two a.m. before the last guests left and those who were staying overnight were shown to their rooms. Maya was exhausted, but an electric energy pulsed through her body. After the encounter with Jacques’s mother in the sitting room, he’d appeared and whisked her away. But he was different, more remote. His kisses had been hard and he’d held her a little too tightly as they danced. Had she overstepped the bounds somewhere? Sure, she’d pretended in her own mind that she was his wife; she’d just wanted to see what it would feel like to be his partner in life. But he hadn’t worked out her game, had he?

Up in their bedroom, he poured himself a cognac and leaned against the doorframe as she removed her jewelry in the walk-in closet they now shared.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” she asked as he continued to stare.

“What did you mean when you told my mother you’d never be my second wife?”

Because I want to be your last wife
. Except she couldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t say she loved him or ask him to say it to her. There was still so much he didn’t know, and she didn’t want him to have said things he’d regret when he found out. Tomorrow, after his mother left, she’d tell him everything. If he didn’t take the news well, she wasn’t going to give Audette Michaud the satisfaction of hearing them break up. Or seeing her cry. This had the potential to rip her heart to shreds.

To hide her insecurity, she went on the offensive. “God, next time I make an agreement with you I’m going to put it in writing. No love, remember? It was point one I recall. I know you think love shouldn’t be a part of marriage, but I do. I won’t marry a man I don’t love. Or one who doesn’t love me. So that kind of disqualifies me from becoming your second, third, or fourth wife. Besides, I wasn’t going to play whatever mind games your mother had planned.”

He slung back his drink, put the glass on the dresser, and then advanced on her. Their gazes met in the full-length mirror. “I remember exactly what we agreed. But there are only five days left in our initial term. And I will be dictating the articles this time.”

She caught her breath at the intensity in his eyes. Was he upset because he didn’t think she wanted him? That was easily fixed. “Will you be wearing a negligee to negotiate? Because I’ve got one I haven’t worn yet. I could give it to you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “No. I have my own ways to get what I want. Five days, Maya. You’d better think long and hard about what you want. Because this will be our last agreement.”

That wasn’t difficult. She wanted him. She wanted his love. Those two things were non-negotiable; everything else was filler. “I better make full use of the time I have left while the terms are in my favor. Can you help me with the zipper on my dress? It’s a bit stiff and hard to manage on my own.”

“You could have asked me to help.” But instead of undoing the fastener, he pulled her against him, her back to his chest. His lips moved from her ear down her neck to her shoulder, one hand cupping her breast, the other across her stomach.

“Yeah, right. For you zippers only go in one direction—down.” He alternated between nipping the cord of her neck with his teeth and soothing the sting with his tongue. The hand at her breast had slipped inside the fabric and he toyed with her nipple. Seriously, she was about to ignite. If he didn’t get this damn dress off her soon, she’d set it on fire.

His lips moved to her ear. “It is more enjoyable helping you out of your clothes. This is a beautiful gown, though. Where’d you get it?”

“It was my Gran-Gran’s. She wore it the night she got engaged to your grandfather.”

His head lifted at that and he scrutinized her reflection again. “Did Grand-Papa recognize it?”

“Yes. He said he was glad to see it again on someone he loved.”

An odd light shone in Jacques’s eyes. “We’d better be careful with it then. You never know when you might want to wear it again.” He undid the dress just enough to ease the fabric off her shoulders and bare her breasts. Both his hands were fondling her now, and she locked her knees to remain upright. She let out a low moan and he slid the fabric from her arms then looped them around the back of his neck before unzipping the rest of the dress and shoving it off her hips. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing only her heels and a lacy thong. The underwear lasted about two seconds before he tore it from her body. He was still fully dressed, including his tie and suit jacket.

“I feel a bit disadvantaged here,” she said.

“That’s odd, because from where I’m standing, you’re the one in control. I couldn’t move from you if I wanted. Have you ever watched yourself orgasm? It’s a beautiful sight.” Their gazes were still locked in the mirror. One of his hands was between her thighs, the other tormenting her breasts. Her skin was pink all over and her breathing rapid.

“No,” she gasped out as his fingers worked their magic. Mesmerized, she watched his hands on her body, the double sensory impact of sight and touch heightened the sensations. She came with such intensity everything went black for a moment.

When she finally stopped quivering he turned her to face him. “Be prepared. When we renegotiate, I’m going to demand exclusivity. You are mine, Maya, whether you want to admit it yet or not.”

She rested her forehead against his neck. “That clause works both ways.”

“I’m aware of that. Now, about your new negligee…”

***

Jacques woke with a Maya hangover. Which was the best kind. Because it came with no headache or nausea, just an unwillingness to ever leave the bed and the hugest smile on his face. Last night had been spectacular. Whether it was finally admitting to himself that he loved her, or the overwhelming suspicion that she felt the same, even the sex had seemed different. It was just as intense and passionate, but now it was enhanced by an emotional connection and sense of belonging that hadn’t been there before.
Dieu
, if he didn’t regain control, any second now he’d start singing some sappy love song. Then Maya would wake and make some smart-ass comment and he’d laugh. Life with her would not be dull.

Her promise of getting their unwelcome guests to leave by disturbing their peace had also been filled. He’d loved her over and over until neither of them could move. At one point, as dawn was breaking, he’d heard the sound of a bedroom door being slammed somewhere down the corridor.

He sat up so he could see her better. Her hair was spread across the pillow, her hand tucked under her cheek. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful, he didn’t have the heart to wake her, even though his cock was stirring to life. The creaminess of her shoulder begged for his kisses, to trail them down her arm and then up her torso until he took one taut nipple into his mouth and let his tongue drive her to a climax. She had the most sensitive breasts—full and firm, he could spend hours tasting them. And had.

But his goal this morning was to get rid of his mother so Maya didn’t have to deal with her. And that would require a delay in his fantasy.
Tant pis
. Pity. There was always tonight. Or perhaps a little pre-dinner appetizer.

He eased out of bed, had a quick shower, and dressed. Maya didn’t even stir as he searched the room for his phone.

The dining room and
petit salon
were both deserted even though it was almost ten o’clock. Surely someone would be up by now.

“Good night?” Daniel asked when Jacques finally found him in the library.

“Fantastic. Yours?”

“Lonely.”

“I don’t imagine that will last for long,” Jacques said.

“I don’t know. I’m tiring of a different woman every night. Seeing how happy you are with Maya makes me think I’m doing it all wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s just a phase.”

Daniel shrugged. “Probably.”

“Have you seen Grand-Papa this morning? He’s usually reading the paper in the
petit salon
by now.”

“Actually, I haven’t. Maybe he’s just sleeping late.”

Jacques checked his watch. It was ten thirty. He couldn’t remember a time when his grandfather wasn’t up by nine, no matter how late the night.

“I think we should check on him. The festival was rather eventful.” And seeing Maya in Yvette’s dress had to have brought back memories, both good and bad.

They wandered down to the wing where Grand-Papa had his rooms. It was far from the festivities of the party, and he’d said good night to him and Maya at eleven p.m., so it wasn’t as if he’d been up all night.

Jacques knocked softly on the door, then a little harder as it went unanswered. A chill swept down his spine as he caught Daniel’s eye. His brother looked as concerned as he was. His hand shook slightly as he turned the handle. They had to walk through a small sitting room before they came to Grand-Papa’s actual bedroom. There was no light coming from under the door; the curtains must still be drawn. Jacques’s heart rate quickened, a sickening dread making his stomach churn.
Dieu
, not today.

He didn’t bother to knock this time, easing the door open as quietly as possible. From the faint light through a crack in the curtain they could make out Grand-Papa laying on his bed, not moving. They both rushed to the side. Daniel had his phone in hand, ready to call for help.

If they weren’t too late.

“He’s still breathing,” Jacques said, having put his ear against his grandfather’s chest. “And his heart is beating but very faint and slow.”

“Grand-Papa, wake up,” Daniel said gently.

But there was no movement on the bed. Jacques touched his grandfather’s face, and still he didn’t move.

“Call an ambulance,” Jacques instructed.

A heavy weight settled on his chest, making it difficult to drag in a lungful of air. Why was life so goddamned determined to see him miserable?

“I’ll stay with him. You go get Maya,” Daniel said.

Jacques didn’t question him and raced from the room. He needed her. Desperately.