Cupcakes & Chardonnay (5 page)

He pulled her closer. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead. With the right person, it would have been perfectly, utterly romantic. Daryle kissed her neck softly, just below her ear, and she stiffened as an electric charge surged straight down her spine.

"Relax, Suzie-Q. You can let yourself enjoy this. It's just a dance."

He was right. She could let herself enjoy this. And anyway, her body clearly was. Despite her brain's admonitions, her body was melting right into his, her breasts straining against the hardness of his chest. The warmth from his fingers splayed across the small of her back radiated out, encircling her waist and creeping down toward her hips. Their bodies had always felt right together, she remembered. It was the rest of their lives that had never been in sync.

As he turned and guided her back across the dance floor, she could smell his cologne, the same one he'd been wearing for years, the one she remembered from his shirts discarded on her floor, lingering on the sheets and pillows in the morning. She was dizzy from his closeness, his scent, his heat, the familiar comfort of his arms around her. Suddenly all the memories she'd been holding back started to well up again. Why couldn't their relationship have turned out right the first time? Then all this would be real, this dance would lead to their wedding night, a real wedding night ...
stop,
Suzanne told herself.
This is a business arrangement. That's it.

Daryle felt her tense up in his arms. For a moment there, he'd begun to think she was enjoying herself. He'd certainly been enjoying himself, he reflected. Dancing with a beautiful woman—even if she was a beautiful woman who hated his guts—what
red-blooded mn wouldn't enjoy that?

As Daryle steered the car down the long driveway, Suzanne was finally able to relax. She let herself sink back into the soft leather of the seat, let her pasted-on smile slide off her face. She closed her eyes and exhaled. The tin cans tied to the bumper of the car bounced and clanked on the gravel behind them but Suzanne didn't notice. A few guests jogged after the car, flinging the last of the red and pink rose petals at them. Suzanne didn't notice that either.

She did feel Daryle's fingers stroke her arm lightly, clasp her hand and then release it. His touch left a trail of heat on her skin, an altogether pleasant sensation.

"So that's done with, Suzie-Q."

She opened her eyes. "I suppose it is. So where to now?"

"Mother booked us a suite at the California Spa. We can go have a nice relaxing dinner, some spa treatments afterward. My sister swears by the mud baths."

"Mud bath. That sounds ... refreshing."

Daryle laughed softly. "Yeah well, I've never had one myself. But Alanna gets one every time she's in from New York."

"Might be good for one's skin," Suzanne ruminated.

"In that case, you wouldn't need one."

Suzanne turned to look at his profile, but Daryle kept his eyes steadfastly on the road ahead.
I think he just paid me a compliment.
My husband. The realization of that fact hit her with a sudden shock. I'm sitting next to my husband. We're driving toward our wedding night. Our wedding night? Was Daryle going to expect a traditional wedding night? She scrutinized his expression for any clue to what he was thinking. Whatever it was, though, he was keeping his thoughts tightly hidden. His expression was neutral, his jaw set just so. It was barely four o'clock and already a faint shadow was emerging along his chiseled jawline. She reached out to pull an errant rose petal from his thick, soft hair.

He turned and smiled, finally. "That was a lovely wedding, if I might say so myself. Were you on the groom's side or the bride's?"

"The bride's, I think. Remains to be seen."

"Hmmm."

"Are there cans tied to the car?" The noise was finally leaking into Suzanne's consciousness.

"You just now noticed? We'll pull over in a few minutes and cut them off. There's something I want to show you anyhow."

More land, probably, Suzanne thought. Boy, Daryle has jumped in whole hog on this business thing. She never would have believed it, all those years ago. Daryle? Getting up at the crack of dawn to work? Setting an alarm? Going back to work after dinner? She still wasn't sure whether or not to believe it, and she'd just married the guy to further his business aspirations. Well, at least her attorney had said all the papers were in order. If she stayed married to one Daryle Catterton until one Mrs. Iris Catterton were deceased, she would receive in payment the sum of two million dollars. She shuddered involuntarily and rubbed her arms as if she could rub off this whole arrangement. What was she doing? She was an ambulance chaser. And the look in Brent's eyes when she told him ... he'd said he understood. Oh, he understood all right. She was sure he understood all too well. She was prostituting herself here. But it was for her business, the one thing she cared about more than anything. The only thing she cared about, she corrected herself. But did that make what she was doing okay? Her answer changed from minute to minute.

She rubbed her temples and looked out the window. Daryle was pulling the car into a small parking lot next to an absolutely adorable little building. It looked like a miniature train station, Suzanne thought. The building was constructed of pink brick with double front doors that were a gorgeous warm honey-colored wood. Two large windows, trimmed in the same wood, flanked the doors. Above the door, she could see a discoloration on the bricks where a sign used to be. The building was topped by a grey slate roof. With some gumdrops and candy canes, it could almost be a gingerbread house, Suzanne reflected.

Daryle turned off the engine. "Here we are."

"Here we are where?"

Daryle didn't reply. He got out of the car, came around to her side and helped her out. She was still wearing her wedding gown. Daryle walked briskly to the front doors of the building and Suzanne was surprised when he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked them. What was he doing? What were they doing here? She followed him into the building anyway.

Inside, the building was mostly empty. Whatever business had been here was now gone. The walls were a scuffed and muddy beige, badly in need of a fresh coat of paint. Cobwebs festooned the corners of the ceiling and apparently there was no electricity. Daryle flipped a light switch up and down several times, to no avail. But the place had undeniable charm. Beneath a small herd of dust bunnies, the floor was a terracotta-hued tile. An old pastry case, trimmed in brass, separated the front area from the back. With a little polish, Suzanne thought, that would be a gorgeous piece.

"Come see the back," Daryle said. She followed him, still not sure what they were doing there.

She found herself in a kitchen. She scanned the counters and ancient steel shelves, the old appliances. "It's bigger than you'd guess from the outside," she said.

"It needs some work, true," Daryle said. "But it's all yours now."

She turned to look at hi
m with a start. "All mine now?"

"This is the new Napa location of The Cupcakery. My wedding present to you."

Suzanne was speechless. Her mouth fell open and all she could do was stare at Daryle. A hesitant smile played around his lips.

He knew it had been a risk to surprise her like this. She was a control freak in many ways and for him to just go and select a new location for her business ... well, he was playing with fire here. Even his mother had advised against it. But he drove past this place nearly every day and it occurred to him the other week that it would be the perfect spot for a cupcake shop. It was just off of Napa's main street, quiet but with plenty of foot traffic. The previous proprietor had retired to San Diego six months ago and the shop had been sitting empty since then. Daryle had walked into the leasing agent's office and signed the papers the day after he thought of it.

He also wanted to give her a reason to spend time in Napa. They weren't going to live together—that was too much to ask of her—but they needed to maintain appearances, for his mother's sake. For his, too. He couldn't afford to be the laughingstock of the wine community. He'd never get any respect if people learned that the only reason he owned Iris Vineyards was because his own mother had blackmailed him practically. Opening a new location would force Suzanne to spend time here and make it appear as though she was settling into her new home.

She still hadn't said a word and he was beginning to worry that she was in actual shock. He strolled over to her and gently pushed her jaw closed. "What do you think?" he said quietly.

"I don't know what to say," Suzanne said. "You didn't have to do this."

"No, but I wanted to, Suzie-Q." He looked around at the kitchen. "Do you think this space will work? Is the kitchen big enough? We'll have to get you some new appliances, of course." He walked back out to the front area. "You have room for more seating here than you do in the Marina. And there's a little courtyard out back
where people can sit outside."

She nodded thoughtfully. He watched her closely as she walked around the perimeter. He could tell she was envisioning the space filled with cafe tables and chairs, imagining music playing over the kitchen noise in the background and the aroma of cupcakes just pulled from the ovens. When she turned to look back at him, he could see the guarded look in her eyes but there was a softness there, too, a gentleness he remembered from their earlier time together. She wanted to say something nice, he could tell, but she was holding that impulse in check. He could see it from the tightness around her mouth and the way she had her arms folded across her chest.

He wanted to stride across the room and grab her shoulders and kiss her. He wanted her to uncross those arms and wrap them around him, the way she had done so many times before. All right, so this was a business arrangement, but they had loved each other once, hadn't they? He had loved her, anyway. Maybe the feelings hadn't been as mutual as he'd thought. Did things have to be this cold? This clinical? This
business-like
? Yes, he'd been a first-class heel. But he had cared about her. And, he was surprised to discover, he cared about her a little still. Maybe he wasn't in love with her anymore but he cared for her, the way you never stop caring for someone who was important in your life. And Suzanne had been important in his life. He just hadn't appreciated it at the time.

Suzanne wanted to envelop him in a big friendly, grateful hug. She hugged herself instead to prevent herself from throwing her body at his. The way he was standing over there, his weight resting on one leg, his hip cocked out. He looked as comfortable in a white tux as most men did in jeans and a polo. His shirt collar was unbuttoned, the tie loose and draped over his shoulders. A lock of hair had broken free and hung down over his temple. How were they to behave with each other? She hadn't given much thought to that when she'd agreed to this whole plan. This was a business deal—cold, calculated, everything spelled out in black and white at the lawyer's office. But they weren't just business partners. They'd been lovers. She had loved him once, loved him enough to pack up her life and move clear across the country. And now they were married, sort of. Where did that leave them, relationship-wise? Who was Daryle to her now?

And to have sprung this wedding gift on her? Suzanne's first thought had been that she hadn't bought a gift for him. It hadn't occurred to her since it wasn't a real wedding. They had specified "no gifts" on the invitation and she'd taken that to include herself as well. Her second thought was
Why am I not angry about this?
For him to just go off and lease a new location for her business—
her
business—without consulting her first? The arrogance! But she wasn't mad. Instead she was touched by his gesture. That he had wanted to give her a wedding gift and then to give her something this major, this
perfect
. It pained her to admit that she couldn't have picked a better location than this for a second Cupcakery. 

Ah, Suzie-Q, Suzie-Q, she thought to herself. You need to proceed with caution here. She'd forgotten just how devastatingly attractive Daryle Catterton could be just by standing still and breathing. All those photos in the society pages, usually with a gorgeous young thing on his arm, well—they hadn't managed to capture that quality about him.

This was exactly what she had wanted, back in the day. To be married to Daryle Catterton. Funny how things turn out.

Chapter 4

At the California Spa, Iris Catterton had, of course, reserved the honeymoon suite for them. Suzanne looked around at the spacious
sitting room, with its heavy carved furniture and red and gold upholstery. A crystal chandelier sent shadows dancing into the corners of the room.

A fire was lit in the fireplace already. A bottle of champagne sat chilled in an engraved sterling champagne bucket. Of course, the first thing Daryle did was walk over to the champagne and pull the bottle up to inspect the label.

"Good choice, mother."

Suzanne peeked into the bedroom. Just as she had feared. Only one bed. At least it was a king-size, she noted. Enough room for each of them to have their own side. Or maybe she'd just sleep on one of the sofas in the main room.

She heard the pop of the champagne cork. A moment later, Daryle appeared, a glass of champagne in each hand. He held one out for her. She hesitated to take it at first. Champagne? What was the point? But the golden bubbles floating up to the top of the glass beckoned invitingly. Oh why not? It was just champagne. Suzanne could tell she'd be saying that a lot from now on. It was just a wedding. He's just her husband.