The Vintner and The Vixen

Chapter 12

He slid the zipper down the back of her dress, undoing the hooks of her bra on the way, because he was efficient like that. Within seconds she stood before him, wearing only a black, lacy thong. He reached out to touch her, but she backed away.

"Your turn. Give me your best Magic Jacques impersonation."

"What?"

"Strip for me. Preferably to music."

She sauntered over to the bed, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she removed her thong. When she lay back against the pillows in her glorious nudity, he swallowed. "I don't have any music up here."

"Not even on your phone?" She lifted her hair off her shoulders and let it fall again before stretching her arms out wide. He couldn't take his eyes off her full breasts. A lock of hair curled around an already taut nipple. Dieu, this woman was going to be the death of him.

"It's a piece of business equipment. Not an entertainment device." His brain scrambled for options. The sooner he satisfied her demand, the sooner he could join her on the bed, sink into her delicious heat, and lose the precious little bit of his mind that still remained.

"I hope I don't fall asleep before you get here," she said. She stretched again, a huge fake yawn contorting her face.

He grabbed the TV remote, found the music channel, and scrolled through the selection. A trickle of trepidation ran through him. What if she laughed? But remaining uptight around Maya wasn't an option. He wanted this affair between them to be fun, something to look back on and smile. So, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it epically.

He chose "Uptown Funk" and pressed play. His hips bopping to the beat, he danced like he hadn't done since he was ten years old, if then. She giggled as he licked his finger and then touched his ass with a sizzling sound. But it was encouragement, not derision. The sound of her provocative laugh emboldened him and he strutted in front of her, giving the performance of a lifetime. It was damn hard to undo buttons when shimmying your shoulders. He had a new respect for strippers. Of course they had Velcro on their side.

As he tossed his shirt to Maya, she sat up in the bed, her gaze riveted on him, biting her bottom lip seductively. Her skin was flushed, a clear sign she was turned on. The awkwardness he expected, dancing in front of her, had evaporated after the first chorus. Adrenaline, passion, humor, they all combined to heighten the pleasure in the moment. If he'd been told a month ago that he'd strip in front of someone and enjoy it, he wouldn't have believed them.

When he was down to his boxers and the song was nearing its end, he turned his back to her, then moved his ass in circles as he lowered his shorts centimeter by centimeter. Maya yelled and clapped as though he were Channing Tatum. When the last note played, he spun on his heel and spread his arms wide, revealing all. Dieu, the hot look in Maya's eyes set his skin on fire.

"I knew you had it in you. Now I need you in me," she said, her voice husky.

But he wasn't done. He'd worked his clothes off, so he wanted more than just a quick tumble. This was a night he wanted her to remember for a long time. "Not just yet. I performed for you. I at least deserve a massage for all my hard work."

"Absolutely. Lay down. I'll get the oil." She went to move off the bed.

"No, I get to massage you. And this time, you have to keep your hands off me. Think you can manage that?"

Her gaze raked him. He might have overestimated his ability to stay in control.

"Go ahead, make me say your name."

"By the time I'm done, you'll be screaming it," he promised.

And she did, multiple times. Later they lay in an exhausted tangle of limbs while the air- conditioning cooled their sweat-slicked skin. Sex had never been this amazing. Anyone after Maya was going to be a huge letdown.

Merveilleux, Jacques. First you marry a woman who destroys your faith in that institution. Then you take a lover who ruins you for any other. He could picture his grave marker: Jacques Charles Henri de Launay, Comte de Vendee, celibate, miserable, end of the line.

At least he'd be able to look back on this time with a smile. The trick would be to make it last as long as possible. Getting the land back was about to take second place to keeping the woman. More importantly, he had to make sure his heart stayed clear of the negotiations.

***

Jacques put down the phone and scrubbed a hand over his face. He'd known the party would end soon, but he'd hoped to make it last until his trip to Moscow at the end of the week. But now he had to fly to Tallinn first and needed to leave early in the morning. Twelve more hours with Maya. How many of them could they spend in his room?

Except Maya was so busy organizing this maudit festival that she barely had a moment during the day for a stolen kiss. Although yesterday he had done her on the desk when she'd come in to ask him about the budget.

His desire for her was off the chart, or the hook, or the chain, or whatever the current slang was. Maybe this business trip was the chance he needed to get some perspective. Take a step back and see the situation rationally. Regain control. More likely than not he'd find out how painful going cold turkey from his Maya addiction was going to be.

He'd find her now and tell her about his revised travel plans. Maybe they could have a private dinner together. Grand-Papa would understand, probably even send up a bottle of champagne from his personal collection.

As Jacques exited his office, the first person he encountered was his grandfather.

"Jacques, Maya has had the most fantastic ideas for the festival. This is going to be an amazing year." Grand-Papa was vibrating with excitement, his eyes bright, and a huge smile on his face.

Dieu, when this ended he wasn't sure who was going to take it the hardest, him or his grandfather. "Grand-Papa, don't put too much pressure on Maya. She's not a professional event planner. Let's just get this year under our belt, and then we can learn for future festivals."

"You need to have more faith in your woman, son."

Jacques closed his eyes. This had to stop. "She's not my woman. You have to get it out of your mind that we're a couple. She has her life, I have mine. They're intersecting for a brief time, but soon she'll leave, we'll have our property back, and we can all go back to normal."

"I don't like normal," Grand-Papa said then shuffled away.

Jacques turned to find Maya a few feet away, her face pale, the smile on her face faker than a Louis Vuitton bag at the market. She was so close she had to have overheard his last statement to his grandfather. He'd broken her rule about mentioning the land. Would she cancel the truce?

"Maya." His voice turned husky just uttering her name.

"Hi, I ... um ... just wanted to check if it's okay if I redecorate the ballroom for the festival. Nothing major, just a bit of paint and reorganizing the furniture. I'll need to start now though if it's to be done in time for the party." She stared over his left shoulder. Her eyes, when they did flicker to his face, were sad.

"Do anything you want. Have the painters or contractors send the bill to me. I trust your judgment." He ran his hand through his hair again. Where had the impeccable control freak gone? What next? Was she going to turn him into the irresponsible waster his father had been? This business trip was coming at just the right time to regain his perspective. Until then, however... "I was coming to tell you that I have to travel to Estonia tomorrow morning. How about we have a private dinner together then you can tell me about all your plans without Grand-Papa interrupting with more suggestions?"

"Sounds lovely, but I promised to have dinner with Michelle Boudreau at her house. She's helping me, as she knows all the local businesses."

Disappointment smothered him, making it hard to breathe. "Can't you meet with her tomorrow?"

Maya touched his cheek briefly, but whereas yesterday the caress would have been followed by a kiss, today she stepped back. "We have to make several critical decisions tonight so we can sign contracts tomorrow."

"I'll wait up for you, then."

"Whatever." And with that she was gone.