The Vintner and The Vixen

Chapter 11

Maya tried to keep her mind on what Charles was saying with little success. She couldn't concentrate on the history of the de Launay family when her body wanted to be wrapped around the current heir. This had gone way beyond scratching an itch. It was now a full-blown addiction. Evidently, she'd found the drug that gave her a high: Jacques crack. Who knew?

Every few minutes she'd check behind her to see if he'd finished his conference call yet and was about to join them.

"He's an amazing man. He's just forgotten how to live. All he does is work," Charles said.

"Sorry, who?" Well, she could feign ignorance. Charles was too astute, though, and laughed.

"My grandson. And you're the perfect woman to bring him back to life."

"Charles, this thing with Jacques and me—it's just a bit of fun. Don't get your hopes up for wedding bells and babies. I'm starting a new life, finally doing what I want for a change. I have absolutely no intention of settling down with any man," she said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jacques stride towards them. Her heart raced and a shiver of anticipation flashed through her. This was not how it was supposed to be.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Maya. You are like your great-grandmother. She loved her independence, too. If you'll excuse me, I'm not feeling well. I think I'll lie down." He turned on his heel and headed off towards his bedroom, his head bowed, his feet shuffling more than usual.

Jacques hurried over to her. "Everything all right?"

"I think I just broke your grandfather's heart."

Jacques stared at his retreating grandparent. "How'd you do that?"

"I told him we were just having fun. That we would never get together permanently."

His gaze searched her face for a moment, his eyes unreadable. "Grand-Papa is worried about the end of the de Launay line. He's been after me to remarry for over a year now. And he's trying so hard to throw us together I can see how he'd think he'd finally succeeded."

The giggle that should have accompanied his statement died in her throat. Who could imagine a girl from a trailer park with a history of drug-dealer boyfriends as the wife of a French nobleman?

"Well, I think we need to be a bit more careful so he doesn't get his hopes up further."

"As long as you don't expect me not to touch you when he's around. I don't think I have the willpower to resist the lure of your creamy skin." He trailed his fingers along her cheek and into her hair, drawing her face up to his as his lips descended.

"Say things like that and I might forget—" The rest of her sentence was swallowed in his kiss.

"If Grand-Papa has gone to lie down, maybe we should do the same," he whispered into her ear a few moments later.

Get out, get out now! her voice of reason screamed. But her desire for independence had nothing on her lust for Jacques.

"As tempting as that sounds, I need to create. I'm going to get my sketchbook from the cottage and draw the rose your grandfather showed me the other day. It really is special. Such an amazing shade of pink, almost a blush really..." She was babbling but couldn't help it. She needed to get away from Jacques's magnetic personality and regain her composure.

She should never have opened that damn door last night. It was her very own Pandora's box. Except instead of all the bad things flying out, she'd been shown what could have been if she'd made different choices in life.