Free The Vintner and the Vixen (Vintage Love Book 1) by Alexia Adams

fell asleep. Your virtue is intact, no need to worry.”
    “I wasn’t worried. Just didn’t want to have missed anything.”
    “Nothing worth writing in the diary.” She shrugged and went back to slicing an apple. “I’ve got yogurt and fruit salad and, of course, the pastries you brought with you this morning. After a migraine my mother said her stomach could only handle simple foods. But if you want something more substantial…”
    “No, what you have is perfect. Again, I’m sorry. I haven’t had an episode like that…” Since Clarisse died . “…in a long time.”
    “I can’t bear to see anyone in pain. I did what I could to help.”
    Help was an understatement. Last time he’d had a migraine, he’d been in bed for two days with it. Maya was a miracle worker on that score.
    He grabbed a piece of apple from her pile. Not much had changed in the small kitchen in the ten days since she’d moved in, except it now looked lived in. Loved. A jug of fresh flowers graced the table, a few herbs grew in pots on the windowsill, and a painting smock hung on a peg by the connecting door to a small anteroom. Through the open door he spotted an easel and made his way over to see what she’d painted.
    On a large canvas was an extremely good painting of Daniel in his racing overalls, his helmet tucked under his arm. So, Maya had chosen to paint his younger brother. Well, she had asked Jacques first and he’d refused. So he couldn’t blame her that she’d moved on to Daniel. But maybe he’d misread the passion between them. Maybe she preferred his brother after all.
    “What do you think?” Her sultry, sexy voice washed over him. He should skip lunch and go back to the house.
    “It’s very good. Are you waiting for Daniel to come back to complete his face?”
    “No, it’s done. He gave me a couple of publicity photos.”
    “Then why is it blurry?” Jacques stepped closer. Every sponsor badge, every tiny element of design on Daniel’s crash helmet was in clear perspective.
    “Daniel the racer knows exactly who he is; that’s why his racing gear is clear. Daniel the man’s not so sure. So I’ve only drawn his features in lightly. Until he figures out who he is apart from his career, this is how I see him.”
    “Really?” Jacques studied the painting some more. How had Maya seen so perfectly behind the facade Daniel showed to the world? As far as Jacques knew, only he and his grandfather were aware of the turmoil that drove his younger brother to live life on the edge and not let anyone close.
    “Yes. He pretends to be a playboy, but I think it’s a front, something he feigns to keep people from actually knowing him.” She was spot on. Jacques shifted his weight from one foot to the other. What else had her artist’s perception picked up?
    “And how do you view me?”
    “Would you like to see?”
    Did he really want to know what this woman thought of him? Talk about shining a light on a dark place. “You’ve painted me as well?”
    “Not yet. I sketched you while you slept. I’m sorry if you consider it an invasion of privacy. But you were in my bed.” Maya left and returned a few seconds later with the book she’d taken from the bedroom. He could see now it was a sketchpad. She flipped a few pages, stared at one for a moment, and then handed the pad to him.
    He sucked in a deep breath. Mon Dieu .

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