The Vintner and the Vixen (Vintage Love Book 1)

by Alexia Adams

  “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. You didn’t tell them where I was, did you?”

  “No, of course not. Because I don’t know where you are. You only gave me this phone number. And before you panic, I’m calling from a burner phone. I have learned a few things from the kids I coach. And give the cops some credit. They kept it very quiet that they figured out we were related. I just want to give you the heads up that they’re looking for you. Be careful, sis. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Sean.”

  She ended the call and put the phone back in her bag. Her hand shook as she ran it over her mouth. A mouth that minutes ago had been ravaged by the man still standing at the lake. At least she was keeping up her record of epic mistakes.

  Would she even get a chance to turn over a new forest before it was burned down?

  Chapter 6

  Jacques swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He was drinking cognac, which was stupid because it reminded him of Maya’s eyes. But as almost everything he encountered reminded him of some part of Maya, it really didn’t matter. After the kiss at the lake, he’d needed time and distance to rethink his strategy.

  He was a strong man, but he knew his limits. And evidently the line was drawn at a hot redhead living a hundred meters from his bedroom. So he’d gone back to Paris to conference with his lawyers and asked Daniel to take Grand-Papa on a mini-holiday to keep him out of Maya’s clutches.

  But here Jacques was, back at the chateau, because Daniel had returned to work and someone needed to keep an eye on Grand-Papa. And Maya. They may have a truce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t plan his next attack for when the armistice ended.

  He had a bill to present to her, detailing all the costs incurred in maintaining the cottage and vines for the past seven decades. He’d delved into her finances, and she didn’t have anywhere near enough to pay it. He’d force her to sell the land, but let her stay on in the cottage to appease his grandfather—and the stupid, irresponsible part of him that enjoyed her company, her feistiness, and the way she didn’t give a damn about his wealth or power.

  He slung back the last of his drink and was about to finish getting undressed for bed when a scream shattered the quiet night. A woman’s scream. He raced out of his room and down the stairs before he even thought to grab his phone in case he needed to call the police. But he wasn’t about to go back upstairs for it. He’d have to use Maya’s if it came to that.

  So as not to alert any intruder, he ran along the grass, having to hurdle the small box hedges that were meticulously cut into fancy patterns. He misjudged one and went sprawling into a bed of flowers. The sound of a shovel hitting gravel reached his ears. Was Maya defending herself from attack? Forget stealth. He pushed himself up and covered the rest of the distance as fast as he could. Three meters from Maya he skidded to a halt.

  She was digging. With a shovel. At midnight. He was about to ask what she was doing when a dog raced up to him, teeth bared.

  Maya whirled around, her mouth opening in surprise when she saw him. “Princess, heel!” The dog gave one last growl before retreating to Maya’s side, never taking its eyes off Jacques.

  “Maya, what are you doing?”

  “I’m digging a moat.”

  “A moat?” He’d had a couple of drinks, but Maya must be out of it. He’d better take the shovel from her before she hurt herself. He stepped closer, but the dog growled again.

  “Yes, all the great houses have them. So I thought the cottage should as well. I can’t decide whether to fill it with alligators or sharks once I get it dug.”

  She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned on her shovel. A dead rat lay a few feet away. She was obviously about to bury it. But she was in a flirtatious mood, so much more relaxed than she’d been at the end of their day on Saturday, so he’d play along.

  “How will you stop the alligators from crawling out? And I think sharks require salt water,” he said.

  “True. What do you suggest?”

  “Piranhas.”

  “Excellent choice. Piranhas, it is. Why doesn’t the chateau have a moat?” The deep V of her dress barely restrained her full breasts as she lifted the next shovel full of dirt. He forced his brain to her question. His body was doing its own thing.

  “It had a moat until the 18th century. Then it was filled in, as the water stank and bred mosquitoes. It was worse for the people stuck inside than any who tried to invade. If you walk around the perimeter of the property, you can still see where it was located.”

  “I forgot about mosquitoes. I hate them. Guess I’ll have to find another way to keep out the bad guys.”

  “Your dog seems be doing that job.” The name Princess must be ironic, because it was the ugliest dog he’d ever seen. If you chose the worst bits of each dog breed and put them in one animal, you’d get the furry creature before him.

  “Princess is a great dog, aren’t you, gorgeous?” Maya bent and scratched the dog on the head and was rewarded with a canine look of love. “I rescued her from animal control. Can you believe someone abandoned her at the side of the road? She’s an excellent guard dog. I didn’t know, however, that she also took on rats. Come meet her.” She grabbed Princess’s collar and motioned Jacques towards her. Although the dog growled, it wasn’t as menacing as before. When he stood only a foot away, Maya stepped forward, put a hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. “There, now she knows you’re a friend.” The dog began to wag its tail seconds before it stuck its nose in his privates, clocking an evident interest in Maya. His breath whooshed out audibly.

  “Sorry, she’s a bit enthusiastic. Can I offer you a drink for coming to my rescue? I take it you heard me scream.”

  “Yes, to both. Are you okay?” He searched her face and body for sign of injury.

  “I’m fine. Princess caught a rat and dropped it in my lap. I didn’t think you’d be able to hear me in the big house. Or were you out for a walk?” This time it was her eyes that searched his body. He looked down as well; aside from the rather evident tenting in the front of his pants, his shirt was mostly unbuttoned and he had grass stains on his knees.

  “I was in the house about to go to bed. But the glass is thin and the French Heritage Society won’t let us replace it. Sound travels rather well.”

  “I’ll have to remember to keep quiet then. And I appreciate your efforts to make me feel less disheveled.” She pulled a couple of flower petals out of his hair. “Just let me finish digging this rat grave and then I’ll get you a drink.”

  “How about I bury the rat? You’re not really dressed for digging.”

  Her light tinkle of laughter didn’t help the situation. “I’ll be on the back terrace when you’re done.”

  ***

  Maya turned at Jacques’s approach. Somehow she’d expected him to come through the house, not around it. He stood on the edge of the terrace, but she couldn’t tell if he was amazed or horrified. Maybe she’d overdone it a bit with the candles. But for a city girl, the country was too damn dark. And it was way too hot inside to sleep, or do anything else for that matter. So she’d lit every candle she could find and set up a little oasis in the backyard, until Princess had brought her unwelcome gift, that is.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  She glanced around. It did look like a scene out of a seduction. “You never know who may turn up.” Rising from the lounger, she grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses she’d left on the kitchen counter. “Your granddad brought over some wine. It looks pretty expensive so I was saving it for a special occasion. I guess you’ll do.”

  Jacques took the wine from her hand and examined the label in the flickering candlelight. Standing close, she could smell his spicy aftershave and licked her lips. His eyes followed the movement of her tongue.

  “It’s from our vineyard, one of our best years. However, the value in wine is enjoying the moment when it’s consumed. It’s just a beverage; it’s the peop
le you drink it with that are the real treasure.”

  She swallowed. “I hope you don’t do your own marketing. You’ll never get top dollar for your product with that slogan.”

  “No, I employ a company to market the wines. But it’s the truth. You can have the most expensive wine in the world, but if you drink it alone or with people you don’t particularly like, it’s worthless.”

  “That begs the question, do you think I’m worth it?” She put her hands on her hip and dared him to deny it.

  “Of course you are.” He didn’t even hesitate. Smart man. “Would you like me to teach you to properly taste wine?” He uncorked the bottle with ease and poured two glasses. Just an inch. Maybe he didn’t think she was worth the whole bottle.

  “Why, so you can turn me into a wine snob?”

  “I would never want you to be anything other than what you are now.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? She took the glass he offered her. “So, you think I’m perfect just the way I am?”

  His gaze locked on hers. “With the small exception of not knowing how to truly appreciate a fine wine.”

  “All right, Mr. Vintner, show me how to,” she put on her snobbiest accent, “truly appreciate a fine wine.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Damnit, why did he have to keep using that word? With the huskiness of his voice and the way his eyes caressed her, she was already wobbly and she hadn’t even had a drink yet. What was with that? This wasn’t her first rodeo. She’d been attracted to men before. And hell, she hadn’t been a virgin since her sixteenth birthday. But none of the men she’d been with had ever made her feel so … so … melty. It was damned annoying.

  He led her over to the lounger with a hand at her back then sat next to her, their thighs centimeters apart.

  Wine tasting—it had seemed such a good idea at the time.

  “First step is to analyze the color.” His voice dropped, making the moment way more intimate than it should be. They were talking liquid, not lingerie. But the passion she’d seen in him at the winery was back. He’d told her about several of his companies, but it was only the vineyard that seemed to excite him. Wine was in Jacques’s veins. “It’s kind of hard in this light, but what do you see?”

  She held her glass up to the nearest candle, swirling it as he was doing. “It’s maroon with hints of sienna,” she said.

  “Good color comparison. Your artistic talent is showing. Next, smell the wine deeply and pick out two flavors. Take your time. They can be hard to identify at first, but the more you do this, the more aromas you can smell.”

  It took three deep inhalations before she could concentrate on what she was smelling from the wine and clear her head of Jacques’s scent. “Pepper … and … raspberries?”

  “Excellent. You are a wine snob in the making. Smell again. Can you pick up the vanilla?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him but then sniffed the wine again. “Yes, just a hint. Do you actually add vanilla?”

  “No, it comes from the oak barrels where the wine is aged. Now taste the wine. Take a large sip to coat your mouth, then a couple small sips to identify the flavors.”

  She did as he suggested, rolling the wine around in her mouth. She closed her eyes to concentrate. When she opened them again Jacques was staring at her.

  “Am I doing something wrong?”

  “No, you’re doing everything perfectly. I’ve just never seen a person concentrate so hard on tasting wine. It’s adorable.”

  God, she hadn’t been called adorable since she was six. “I want to get it right.”

  “There is no right or wrong. It’s what you taste, your palate.”

  “You mean at last there’s something I can’t fail at?” She took another sip, the different flavors of the wine revealing themselves in stages.

  “Is it sweet or dry?” Jacques prompted.

  “Dry.”

  “Did the wine start bold and finish subtle, or did the intensity build as you tasted it?”

  “Um, the intensity built?” They were still talking about wine, right?

  “Yes. Or so the experts say.”

  “That’s it?”

  Banked desire flared in his eyes. “Well, there is my favorite way to taste wine. But it involves breaking rule number one.”

  “I wouldn’t want a silly rule to hinder my education. What is your favorite way to taste wine, Jacques?”

  He placed both their glasses on the ground beside the chair then threaded a hand through her hair and drew her face closer to his. “On the lips of someone who’s just savored it.”

  “Is this what people do at all those fancy wine-tasting events?”

  “No, this is for private lessons only.”

  “Private lessons are the best,” she said. Her eyes drifted closed as his mouth touched hers. At first his tongue just traced the outline of her lips. But as she parted them, he slipped inside. The kiss was gentle, explorative, but she wanted more. Needed more. One of her hands slid into his hair, the silkiness of the strands slipped between her fingers. At her response, he angled her head to gain greater access. His lips challenged, teased, and tempted until she was kissing him as thoroughly as he was her. Their hands joined the party, and it wasn’t until a breeze drifted over her naked chest that she realized he’d slid the dress from her shoulders and bared her from the waist up. She lay back on the lounger, drawing him with her.

  He cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple in a silent torment. She arched into his hand, aching for more. Jacques lips finally left hers, trailing fiery kisses down her neck until he took one hard nipple in his mouth and flicked it with his tongue before he sucked it gently. A shocked cry of pleasure escaped her mouth and he released her, raising his head to stare into her eyes. Now that was rising intensity.

  “You are a dangerous woman, Maya Tessier. More intoxicating than the most potent wine. One taste is never enough. When I touch you all reason goes out of my head and I become that wild man you wanted to see. I don’t like it.” He readjusted her dress, covering her breasts, then stood. Picking up his wine glass, he moved to the edge of the patio, his back to her.

  She hauled in a deep breath. It was one thing to play with fire, but this explosive chemistry had the potential to burn them both. Time to permanently douse the flames of this out-of-control lust. “I am dangerous, Jacques. More than you know. Men who love me end up dead or in prison. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

  He turned then but it was too dark to read his expression. She slung back the wine, not bothering to taste it. Liquid courage was all she had to tell him her story.

  “What do you mean?” He refilled her glass. And his own. Then he sat on the chair next to the table. Candlelight flickered over the hard planes of his face.

  “My first boyfriend was a drug dealer and a gang member. I pretended I didn’t know for a while, but when he gave me diamond earrings worth two grand for my sixteenth birthday, I figured the money wasn’t from his paper route.”

  “What happened to him?” His tone was neutral, as though he were asking about her day. No biggie that she’d just confessed to consorting with a criminal.

  “He was on his way to pick me up for my high-school graduation party. First he collected my best friend. Then two blocks from my place he and Kelsey were shot to death. I remember being mad that he was late, then hearing the sirens. I thought maybe he’d been arrested. My brother went to check it out and told me the news. If I’d been picked up first, I’d be the one dead, not Kelsey.”

  “Is that why you went to live with your great-grandmother?”

  “Yes. My parents wanted me out of that life, away from my former friends, so they sent me to Gran-Gran. I even changed my last name to distance myself from my past, kind of a turn back time thing. She took me in on two conditions.”

  “What were they?”

  “One, that I stop swearing. She hated profanity. The other that I keep away from gangs and drug dealers
. Unfortunately, I only kept one of those conditions.”

  “You stopped swearing?”

  “Yeah. I was good for a few years. Gran-Gran and I got on great. She loved art and encouraged me in my studies, pulling some strings to get my paintings into a gallery run by one of her friends.”

  “And then?”

  “I got impatient. I wanted instant success. Raj, my first boyfriend, had showered me with money and gifts. I hated having to scrape every last penny together to make my bus fare to go to class. Then I met this guy.”

  Jacques shifted in his seat. He no longer looked at her. Good, she’d turned him off. It was better this way. Let him know how bad she truly was. Then he’d leave her in peace and she could get on with her art. It was what Gran-Gran had wanted. It was what she should have done in the first place.

  “He was a criminal, too?”

  “Victor was a lot more discreet than my first boyfriend. I should have read the signs, but I was too stupid. For one, a computer sales rep shouldn’t have had the money he did. But he told me it was family money. And he was so nice. He bought me things, treated me to dinner in fancy restaurants, drove a cool car, took me to clubs. Then one night we were at a house party, some other guy grabbed me, and a fight broke out. Victor stabbed the guy in the heart and he died. At the trial I learned they were both drug dealers and had a history going way back. Evidently Victor had uttered death threats against this guy before. So the court found him guilty of first degree murder, and he’s serving a life sentence.”

  “You don’t do things by half, do you?” He put his wineglass on the small table, and she was sure he was about to walk away. “Do you use drugs?”

  “I’ve tried a few, but I don’t like the way they make me feel. I get sick, not high. So I haven’t touched them in years. And I stopped smoking when Gran-Gran was having trouble breathing after a bout of pneumonia.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.” She hadn’t told him about Etienne or that Big Tony wanted her dead. But there was only so much soul baring a woman could do in one night.