Cupcakes & Chardonnay (14 page)

He watched as Suzanne stood up and shook the man's hand. They were introducing themselves. The security guard hooked her radio back onto her belt. Problem solved.

Daryle slowed his step. He couldn't believe what he was seeing next. As Suzanne thanked the security guard, the girl's father was obviously checking her out. His eyes went down to Suzanne's shapely, bare legs then slowly took in her hips and ass. As Suzanne turned back around to face him, he was unabashedly admiring her breasts.

Okay, buddy, that's my wife you're ogling.
A wave of jealousy surged in Daryle. He could taste it in the back of his throat. He picked up the pace, then just flat out started jogging toward them. He watched in disbelief as the man pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and handed Suzanne a business card, even contriving to brush his wrist against her bare forearm as he did so.
Oh no you don't,
Daryle thought.
You are not moving in on my wife.

By the time he got to where Suzanne and the man were standing, there was a loud buzzing in his ears, so loud he could barely think straight. Normally, when another man flirted with one of his girlfriends, Daryle was personally offended. But he wasn't feeling that here. It was more a feeling of ... panic. What if Suzanne had told the man where she was staying? What if they had arranged to meet later, during the conference? And why not? That wasn't the kind of marriage he had offered her. He had offered a business deal and he had no right to expect anything more. So why was there a huge lump lodged in his throat? Why was his pulse pounding in his head? Why did this infernal buzzing feel like a knife in his ears?

As he slowed to a stop, he could feel the veins bulging on the sides of his forehead. As a rule, Daryle abhorred violence. But if that man's hand moved anywhere else ...

"Suzanne," he said as he reached her, moving in close and knocking the other man's hand away. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, purposely using his wedding ring adorned left hand, and dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "Here you are. I've been looking all over for you."

She aimed a puzzled look at the drops of perspiration beaded along his brow. He turned to the other man and extended his hand. The other man accepted the handshake coolly.

"Your wife took my daughter under her wing and helped her find a security guard," the man said. He nodded at them both. "Thanks again."

Suzanne leaned over and straightened one of the little girl's braids. "You stick to your daddy, okay?" The girl nodded and smiled shyly, just before the two of them turned and walked into the crowd.

"Ready to take a break from the dinosaurs?" Daryle asked.

"And the cavemen, too. God, Daryle, I was half-expecting you to beat that poor man over the head with a club. What was that about?"

"He was moving in on my wife."

Suzanne rolled her eyes and made air quotes as she mouthed "wife." "I didn't realize you were so territorial."

"Yeah, I'm old-fashioned that way. How about we go get some world famous Chicago deep dish pizza?" He put his arm around her waist—his wife's waist—as they walked toward the exit.

Chapter 9

Daryle fumbled with the hotel room key as he tried to insert it into the door slot. Suzanne reached over his arm and turned the key around.

"You've got it backwards," she said.

The skin on his hand tingled where she brushed it. If only his brain was as alert as his skin, he thought. They'd shared a bottle of wine—a big, dark cabernet—with pizza. After dinner, they'd strolled down the street to a small wine bar that had a live jazz band playing. Now it was close to midnight.

Inside the room, Suzanne collapsed sleepily onto the sofa. She watched in disbelief as Daryle started a pot of coffee brewing.

"Doesn't the conference start tomorrow? You'll be up all night," she said.
             

"
Maybe that's the idea," he said, turning to her with a sly smile on his face.

"What will you need me to do at the conference?" she asked. Daryle noted the way she skillfully changed the subject he hadn't quite raised yet.

"Just stand there and look gorgeous."

Suzanne rolled her eyes. "Seriously, I want to do more than that. I don't want to be some booth babe."

He laughed. "How do you know what a booth babe is?"

"A girl who used to live down the hall from me did some modeling and booth babe jobs. Maybe you know her?"

Daryle decided to ignore that. Chances are he did know her, or at least know of her, but he wasn't taking that bait. Not tonight. Not now.

The coffeemaker behind him stopped its hissing and sputtering. He poured himself a cup of fresh, hot coffee then tore open a creamer pack and upended it into the black liquid. He swirled the cup, watching the coffee lighten to a caramel hue.

He sat down next to Suzanne on the sofa. "Actually, you just need to stand around and act like my wife. That's what people expect from Iris Vineyards, the family."

"I feel like I should have studied some before I came here so I'd know what I'm talking about," she said, wrinkling her forehead.

"You have enough to handle with your own business, Suzanne. I don't expect you to learn the wine industry too. Just pass out our brochures, make small talk and direct people my way if you can't answer something."

Daryle couldn't believe she was even thinking about this. His brain was too dulled by the wine to think about work or tomorrow or anything besides the fact that he was sitting in a hotel room with a gorgeous woman who happened to be his wife. And it was bed time. He held the cup of steaming coffee out to her.

She eyed it hesitantly for a moment, then grasped it in her hands and took a sip. "Not bad, for a hotel coffeemaker."

I'm gonna go for it.
He leaned toward her and touched her knee, lightly. "I had fun today. Even if I almost killed that guy who was hitting on you."

Suzanne shook her head and handed the coffee back to him. "His daughter was lost. I helped her find a security guard. She was adorable, wasn't she?"

"I don't care how cute a little kid is. Her dad is not allowed to put the moves on my wife." He set the coffee cup onto a side table.

Suzanne started to stand up. "We're going to be exhausted tomorrow morning."

Daryle reached over and pulled her back down onto the sofa. "I don't care," he whispered against her lips before covering them completely with his own. He groaned as he tasted the mix of coffee and wine on her breath. He tried to slip his tongue between her lips but Suzanne kept them resolutely closed.

"This isn't a good idea."

He moved closer to her, until his thigh pressed hard against hers. "Why not? Wasn't it fun the last time?"

She hesitated.

"You know it was." He dotted kisses along her jawline, then dropped down to the dip at the base of her throat. He gently pushed her back into the plush sofa cushions.

"We can't do this again."

"We're married. We can do it any time we want." He slipped a finger beneath the deep scoop neckline of her dress.

"But our marriage is on the rocks," Suzanne parried. "We're headed for divorce."

"Not yet we aren't." His thumb hooked the top of her lacy bra as he peeked into her dress. The full mounds of her breasts were rising and falling in rhythm with her breathing. Her body was clearly not in agreement with the words that were tumbling from those gorgeous lips of hers. He was starting to think he had a chance here.

"You said you wouldn't make me sleep with you."

"I'm not trying to make you. I'm trying to persuade you." His hands slid down over the linen of her dress and settled on her hips, before falling the rest of the way to the hem. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and allowed himself a slight smile as he touched the skin of her bare thighs. "You're the best lover I've ever had, Suzanne. Don't roll your eyes. Yes, you are. Our bodies are made for each other. I don't know why, but they are."

"Daryle, we have to stop this," she said as his finger traced a delicate line up the smooth skin of her thigh, finally slipping beneath the elastic of her panties.

"Give me one good reason why we should." He slid his hands beneath her back, feeling for the zipper of the dress. He pulled it down, in one smooth movement. "My body craves yours. And don't tell me you don't feel the same way." He peeled the dress down over her shoulders. "Your head can deny it all you want, but your body has never lied to me."

He drank in the sight of her full, round breasts now clad only in a lacy blue bra. Not exactly your practical white cotton, he thought.
Who else is she dressed for, if not me?

"Is this the wine speaking?" Suzanne asked. Daryle was clearly a little intoxicated, an idea that surprised her. Didn't he drink wine every day?

"I'm a winemaker." Daryle pushed the dress down over her flat, taut stomach. "Wine speaks to me all day long."

He leaned in and kissed the swell of one breast, while his hand covered the other. Her hard nipple pressed against his palm. He gently rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Suzanne moaned and—just what he had been hoping for—pressed her hips up against him. In one smooth move, he slid her dress all the way off.

"Come to bed with me," he said. "I rushed things the last time. Tonight, I want to make slow, excruciatingly slow, love to you."

Suzanne allowed him to pull her up from the sofa and lead her into the bedroom. He picked her up and gently laid her down on the pillowy mattress. He shed his shorts and linen shirt in a heartbeat. He knelt over her and covered her mouth with his, his tongue tasting—then parting—her soft lips. The warmth of his long, lean body hovering over her was driving her mad. She pressed her palms against his muscled chest and listened to him groan against her lips.

A sensation like liquid warmth spread through her body as he unhooked her bra and dropped it onto the floor next to the bed. "I want to see all of you," he said as he slid her panties over her legs. It was hard to miss what the sight of her body was doing to him. Suzanne pulled him back down to her. She slid her hands down his back and pushed his boxer shorts down over his hips. Her body ached with desire. She curved her hands over his buttocks and drew him toward her. She didn't want to wait. She wanted him inside her, now.

Daryle resisted. "Not yet," he murmured and closed his mouth over her breast again, sucking at the nipple. Suzanne arched her hips upward, pressing against his hardness. She entangled her fingers in his thick hair.

She gasped as he touched the velvet softness between her legs. "I want to watch you come," he whispered. "I want to see your face." She closed her eyes and gave into the sensations that were surging through her body as he rhythmically stroked her. Her hips began to rock in concert with his touch. He knew just how to play her body, still. Her pleasure rose as he stroked her faster. A shiver cascaded down her spine and then her climax unfurled in great rolling waves. She cried out and Daryle swallowed her cry with his mouth, hungrily devouring her lips as her body continued to shudder. She felt unmoored, released from all laws of gravity and at the same time, more connected to the man above her than she'd ever felt.

"I want you inside me," she said against Daryle's lips. She parted her legs and pulled his hips against hers. This time, he put up no resistance. He entered her slowly, making her feel every long inch of him as he slid into her. She pulled him into her deeper. She wanted to make him feel exactly the way he had made her feel—splintered and melded all at the same time. He began to thrust harder and she matched him move for move.

She slowly traced a finger down the length of his spine. Just as the tip of her finger grazed the small of his back, his pace quickened and he cried out. He buried his face in her shoulder as he climaxed.

Afterward, he wrapped his arms around her. "You're sleeping here tonight," the words caressed her neck. "Right here, in my arms."

Chapter 10

After the conference started, the days passed in a blur for Suzanne. She spent mornings and afternoons helping Daryle in the Iris Vineyards booth and attending some of the educational sessions. She was surprised by how many visitors to the booth already knew of her marriage.

So this is your lovely bride ...

About time you settled down!

I've known your husband since he was knee high to a grasshopper.

What's Alanna up to these days? Can't you get her into the family business?

So sorry to hear about your mother.

Daryle's charm and ease with people was on full display, and it was clear how deep the Catterton family's roots were in the wine business. And everyone accepted her as another Catterton. Suzanne wondered what they'd think next year when Daryle showed up alone. Or with a new wife. Every time that thought pushed its way into her head, she shoved it right back down and plastered a smile on her face. This week, she—and she alone—was Daryle Catterton's wife.

And boy, was Daryle making her feel like it. Evenings, they attended round after round of cocktail parties and receptions and then fell into bed together afterward. Suzanne tossed caution to the wind. She had shut down the physical side of her life after she and Daryle broke up, throwing herself into making The Cupcakery a success. But getting another taste this week of what Daryle could do to her body burst that door wide open again. It was only for one week, after all, and then they'd both be back to reality in California. Daryle had been right, she admitted. She did need a vacation, and a week of glorious sex wasn't a bad way to spend a vacation. Not bad, at all.