The Vintner and The Vixen

Chapter 8

Maya stared at Jacques's face while he examined her sketch. While he'd slept she'd become obsessed with the beauty of his features, relaxed of all the worries and responsibilities he carried around with him. That wasn't what concerned her, however. It was the look she'd put in his eyes. A look of love, of longing, of hope. That was how she wanted him to be. Not the bitter, resigned man who stood in her cottage, holding one of her best pieces of art in his hands.

"You've sketched me with my eyes open."

"Yes, I propped them open with toothpicks. You were so gone you didn't notice." She tried for a tease, but he wasn't having it this time. He waited. The only sound was Princess panting in the other room.

"Why have you drawn me like this?"

"Because that's the man you could be. If you could just let go of the past."

His gaze met hers and she read the warning loud and clear before he even spoke. "I can never be this man, Maya. If this is who you're waiting for, I'm sorry to disappoint you. My past made me who I am today. It can't be undone."

She opened her mouth to refute the statement but closed it again. You could lead a man to a mirror but you couldn't make him see.

"Let me tell you what I've learned about the past. If you don't come to terms with it, it will destroy your future. Do you know how many mornings I woke up over the past ten years wishing I'd made different choices in my life? Every single one of them. If I hadn't gotten involved with Raj or any of the others; if I'd studied harder in school, gone to university, got a degree, and a regular job... Know what? I didn't. I've had to become who I am today to survive. But I'm determined not to stay that way. I'm going to move on with my life. Make myself better. Do something worthy. Make up for my past mistakes. I promised Gran-Gran I would, and I won't let her down. You have a choice, too. You can continue to live your life in fear of more heartache. Or you can move on. It's entirely up to you. My advice? Don't rule happiness out of your future. Don't let Clarisse kill you, too."

He stared at her as if she'd just slapped him. Nothing like hitting the man recovering from a debilitating migraine over the head with some hard truths. A strategic retreat was needed.

"Let's eat," she said then turned on her heel and strode back into the kitchen, fussing with the salad until she was back in control.

When he sat opposite, however, it wasn't her emotions she was worried about revealing. A trickle of sweat dripped into the pool that had formed in her bra. And there was only so much moisture Victoria could keep secret.

"It's like an oven in here. You haven't got the heating on by mistake, have you?" he asked.

"No, of course not. But the whole front of the house, including my bedroom, is south facing. And the frothy white curtains don't keep out the heat. So by midday it gets warm."

"It's unbearable. How have you slept?"

"Mostly on the sofa. In the evening I open all the windows and doors, hoping to catch a cross breeze. By midnight it's usually cool enough to sleep downstairs anyway. At least it's cured me of sleeping in all morning. Although for some bizarre reason, my neighbor objects to me firing up a chain saw at five a.m."

Jacques opened his mouth, but it was his grandfather's voice she heard. "There you are. I've been looking for you all morning, Jacques. I guess next time I should try the cottage first." Charles appeared at the back door and tipped his hat in greeting.

As though he were caught somewhere he shouldn't be, Jacques jumped to his feet. "I came to stop the racket Maya was making and had to wait out a migraine," he replied.