"What were you—" she said then stopped as she looked over at him. His head was in his hands, his forehead resting on the steering wheel. He was exhausted. That was plain to see.
"Out," she said. "I'm driving. Chinese fire drill." He switched places with her without complaint, offering a mumbled, barely-audible "thanks."
Luckily, Suzanne found a parking space less than half a block from her apartment. She got out of the car, went around to the passenger side and opened the door. "You're staying here tonight. You're too tired to drive all the way back to Napa."
"I can't, Suzanne," he protested. "I have to get back to the winery to—"
She cut him off. "Our contract doesn't have a contingency for you getting killed in a car accident, does it? I guess I might inherit Iris Vineyards in that event but, frankly, running a winery is probably not my cup of tea."
Daryle rubbed his eyes, then raked a hand through his thick hair. "I suppose you're right."
It had been years since he'd been in her apartment. He was too tired to look around and see if everything looked the same, if there was evidence of someone else who had been there recently. He could barely keep his eyes open.
"I'll sleep on the couch," Suzanne offered.
"No," he replied. "I'll sleep on the couch. It's your place." He remembered a time when it had felt like his place, too, when he had kept clothes and a toothbrush here. A vision stirred in his mind, of Suzanne padding around the apartment in the morning, wearing nothing but his shirt. Glancing at her face, he could tell she was remembering those times, too.
"I'll get you a blanket and pillow," Suzanne said. This was strange, she thought, strange and awkward as she walked to the tiny linen closet at the end of the hall. Daryle was the only man she'd ever had up to her apartment. It was a good thing she was so tired, too. She didn't want to lie awake all night fighting back the flood of memories his presence here was evoking.
When she came back to the living room, her arms piled high with blankets and her best guest pillow, she found Daryle already undressed and asleep on the sofa. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at that long, lean body in boxer shorts stretched out on the cushions. Oh go ahead, she told herself, it's been awhile since you've had the opportunity to look at a nearly naked man. She stood there for a long moment, her breathing becoming slower and heavier, just admiring his sleeping form. The way his chest rose and fell, one arm slumped to the floor, his face calm and relaxed in sleep.
God, he was so gorgeous. She wanted to touch him, just run a fingertip along the curve of his bicep or press her palm against that rock-hard abdomen. She wanted to feel that warm skin against hers. She felt her body being pulled toward his.
She stopped herself just in time, and shook her head. That was close, she thought. She took a deep breath, then gently lifted his head and slipped the pillow underneath. She draped two blankets over his body, covering up all that glorious—dangerous—distraction. There! That was better, she thought, looking at him—no longer one sleek, sexy length of skin but now just a bundle of practical white cotton. She could handle that.
Daryle awoke slowly, sensing he was not at home but not entirely sure where he really was. The bed he was lying in felt different, softer than his at home, and the room was brighter. He squinted at the windows, bright morning sunshine leaking in through the miniblinds. He felt the mattress shift slightly and he looked to his left. What he saw there caused his eyes to open wider. He was fully awake now.
Ah, it was coming back to him. Last night. Alanna's reception. How he'd nearly rear-ended a car. Falling asleep on Suzanne's couch. Now he was in Suzanne's bed. He pulled his body up onto one elbow and watched her sleep. She looked peaceful and relaxed, the morning sun washing over her bare face. His gaze followed the line of her cheekbones to her jawline, then into the hollow of her neck and down to the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her thin pink cotton tank top. They rose and fell, rose and fell as she breathed.
Daryle was dizzy and he had to concentrate on breathing himself. It was disorienting, seeing Suzanne in the morning again, this close, this intimately, after all these years. How many lazy Saturday mornings had he begun just like this, quietly watching her sleep, then waking her up ...
He shifted his weight so he could slide his leg along hers, beneath the covers. She stirred, but didn't waken. He lightly brushed a lock of hair from her face. She wrinkled her nose, but still she remained sleeping. He was enjoying this, experimenting to see what would finally rouse her from whatever dream she was dreaming. He might have to up the ante.
He reached out and ran his finger lightly over the top of her breast, then down and around the side until his hand was cupped around the lower curve. Her nipple stiffened and poked at the cotton of her top, and he couldn't resist a smile. So she wasn't entirely immune to him.
Suzanne was resisting the pull toward wakefulness. She was having the most delicious dream, one that was making her body warm and tingly, causing her toes to curl. She could sense pale daylight on the other side of her eyelids, but she was going to fight this. Why did dreams always have to end just when things were getting good?
Suzie-Q, she heard someone whisper softly. She felt a caress on her breast, then a hand slipped inside her top and pinched her erect nipple, lightly. She moaned. No, she did not want to wake up, not until this dream was over. Suzie-Q.
She felt hot breath on her sternum, then the fabric of her top being slid aside. A pair of warm lips began to dot kisses on her breast, then—as she gasped—the lips settled over her nipple.
Suzie-Q. You're a hard woman to wake up.
She opened her eyes just as Daryle's tongue drew a slow, lazy circle around her nipple. She felt his hand grab her hip, his thumb slipping beneath the elastic of the boxer shorts she wore as pajamas. Her breath caught in her throat, a sound that made Daryle look up at her. His other hand took the place of his mouth on her breast, rolling her nipple beneath his thumb. Desire blazed in his eyes.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said.
Suzanne looked at him warily, remembering her dream—or what she thought had been a dream. "How long have you been in here?"
"Since the middle of the night."
"The middle of the night! You slept in here?"
"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. That couch of yours isn't that comfortable, by the way. So I crawled into bed with you. You didn't seem to notice at the time." He looked down at her breasts, admiring them hungrily. "Although parts of you seem to be noticing now."
Suzanne ached for him to touch her again. It was all she could do not to arch her body up to meet his. But this was not a good idea, no matter how good it felt.
Daryle leaned in and brushed her lips with his, lightly, teasingly. "I know what you're thinking," he whispered. The caress of his warm breath against her lips sent a tingling ripple down her spine. "You're thinking this is a bad idea."
"Isn't it?" she replied and Daryle covered her mouth with his, kissing her possessively. She moaned and he filled her mouth with his tongue. She took it all in, her body finally pressing up to meet his. She felt his erection against her hip and Daryle groaned with pleasure.
"We are married," he said. "So one could say this is officially sanctioned."
She had to concede that he had a point. They were married. And it wasn't as though they had never done this before. Her body was letting her know that, loud and clear. Daryle kissed her again, deeply, tasting every curve of her lips, then gliding down to her jaw ... then the soft skin of her neck ...
Suzanne couldn't resist any longer. She slid her hands down the length of his body, closing her eyes so she could focus on just the sensation of his muscles beneath her palms. She felt his muscles tense beneath his skin as her hands reached the small of his back. He pressed his hardness into her.
"Suzanne, I want you. I can't help it. I'll apologize later." He looked down at her, his eyes heavy with passion. She felt herself dissolving in those eyes. More. She wanted more. She
'd forgotten how good this felt, forgotten how much her body craved a man's touch. Craved Daryle's touch. No one had touched her body since they'd broken up.
"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought of you ... like this?" Daryle said. He pulled her tank top over her head. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now?" He leaned back on his heels and Suzanne lifted her hips so he could slide her shorts down her long smooth legs. "Look at you. Damn, I am lucky to be married to you." He bent his head and covered her breast with his mouth again.
Suzanne's body was on fire. She buried her fingers in his lush dark hair, then moved further down and pulled his hips into hers. If she moved just an inch or two, she could pull him inside her. She wanted him that close, as close as two people could be. She wanted it so badly she could barely breathe.
"Mmm, not yet," Daryle murmured.
"You're torturing me."
"And I'm not through torturing you either." His lips whispered against her skin, as he dropped kisses across her flat belly, flicked his tongue over the points of her hips, then gently pushed her legs open. Suzanne moaned at the first, light touch of his fingers. He slid his hands underneath her bottom as he began to kiss her intimately. Suzanne clutched at the pillow beneath her head, certain her body was about to explode from years of pent-up desire. Daryle was doing things to her, divine things, things that had every thought in her mind collapsing into chaos. The only clear thought she had was that she wanted him, wanted Daryle Catterton that very minute more than she'd ever wanted anything.
As if reading her mind, Daryle rose up and looked into her eyes. Suzanne knew she didn't have to say a word. Everything she was feeling was written across her face. Kiss me. Touch me. Fill me. Daryle pushed his boxer shorts down over his hips, then wriggled out of them. Suzanne ran her hand down the hard length of him. Daryle sucked his breath in through his teeth, as she pulled him toward her.
He leaned over and covered her mouth with his as he pushed inside her, filling her up, fitting her perfectly. Suzanne gasped as he moved back and forth above her. She wrapped her thighs around his hips, pulling him in, eliminating every millimeter of space between them.
"Suzanne, I want to do this for hours," he whispered. "For slow, delicious hours. But I've waited so long to do this again, I don't think I can wait any longer." He began to thrust harder and faster. Suzanne matched his rhythm, feeling her body rising higher and higher until her pleasure cracked open, wave after wave of desire cresting over her body. She cried out his name and Daryle followed her, his last remaining shreds of self-control giving way to his own unbridled passion. He buried his face in Suzanne's shoulder as his body collapsed onto hers. "What you do to me," he murmured, "what you've always done to me ..."
Chapter 6
It was turning out to be, as Brent had promised, one glorious Sunday. Not a pillow of fog in sight. Suzanne whistled as she drove her car across the Golden Gate Bridge. She knew she had the most ridiculous grin on her face, and who wouldn't? Yes, that little nag was still tapping on the inside of her skull, warning that what she and Daryle had done that morning was not smart. Not smart, at all. But the sun was shining. She was on her way to a picnic with her best friend. She wanted to be happy today. Just happy.
And while her marriage to Daryle had more strings attached to it than a Punch and Judy show, sex with Daryle did not. There were no strings at all, no wondering where the relationship would go from here, or worries about whether they had gotten intimate too soon or not soon enough, or whether she'd ever hear from the guy again. Daryle couldn't leave her just yet—and yet, Suzanne knew exactly when the relationship was going to end. It was all so simple!
The Marin Headlands rose up in front of her. Before she had moved to California, she'd never seen a park with such varied terrain—from beaches where hardy surfers braved the icy waves to stands of majestic Douglas firs on the hilltop peaks. The first time she visited the Headlands and Mt. Tamalpais had been on the back of Brent's BMW motorcycle. Even though he'd been her boss, the two of them had been fast friends. They shared a sense of humor and a passion for their work.
After her breakup with Daryle, she would come up here to hike and get away from the places in the city that held too many fresh memories. Lately, she hadn't had much time to hike or stroll along the beaches; she spent most of her time at The Cupcakery.
She saw Brent and Seth as soon as she got out of her car, the two of them sitting on a classic red and white checkered picnic blanket, taking plates and containers out of a huge wicker basket. Behind them lay the bay and a panoramic postcard-perfect view of San Francisco, its streets and buildings splayed out on the peninsula.
She sat down on the blanket, gave Seth a friendly hug and leaned over to kiss Brent on the cheek. After the peck, he held her away from him and eyed her suspiciously. "Oh Suzie-Q, what are we going to do with you?"
"What?" Suzanne tried to feign innocence by looking down at her outfit. She was wearing a crisp white button-down shirt, capri jeans and a linen sweater tossed over her shoulders.
Brent shook his head ruefully. "I can tell by the glow in your cheeks just how last night ended. Or maybe it was this morning, hmm? And don't try and tell me it's just that orgasm blusher." He shook his head again and twisted the cap off a bottle of sparkling water.
Suzanne sighed. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"
"No, dear, you can't." He poured water into plastic cups and handed one to Seth. "But seriously, what are you doing? I thought this was one of those marriages of convenience."
"It is—" she started to explain what had happened. But what had happened? How had it happened? She wasn't sure herself. She had gone to bed by herself, but woke up with Daryle under the covers next to her. And it had seemed so much like old times ...
"He's a husband with benefits?" Seth asked.
Suzanne laughed and accepted a cup of water from Brent.
"This isn't going to turn out well, mark my words," said Brent. "I worry about you, Suzie-Q. I know you used to love the guy and the two of you always jonesed for each other's bones like there was no tomorrow. But I don't see how this is going to end well. People don't change that much. They just don't."
You got that right, she thought. Daryle was still as good in bed as he'd ever been.
Brent began pulling out plates and napkins from his basket. He unwrapped a veggie sandwich and scooped a big serving of pasta salad onto a plate, which he handed to Suzanne. "I'm just worried for you," he said. "You were a wreck the last time. You could hardly work. You deserve better."
"And when you're done with him, give him to me," Seth joked. Brent playfully mock-punched Seth in the arm. "Hey!" Seth said. "He's hot, just saying."
Suzanne sat back and admired the breathtaking view of the bay and the late morning sun washing over the orange trusses of the Golden Gate Bridge while she ate. Then she remembered the Napa shop.
"You'll never guess," she said, handing her plate to Brent for a refill on pasta salad. "I'm opening a shop in Napa. It's the cutest building. It looks like a train station that someone shrunk."
Brent coolly lifted one eyebrow as he handed her plate back. "Napa? How did that come about?"
"It was my wedding present. Daryle leased the building."
"Well, that explains your—uh—wedding present to him."
"Brent, cut her some slack already." Seth turned to Suzanne. "You're married to the guy. Might as well get some sex out of it."
"And it's not like I've had tons of sex since I broke up with Daryle," Suzanne pointed out. "Haven't had any at all, actually."
"Hey, I don't have a problem with sex," Brent said. "But I know you, Suzanne. You're not the type to sleep with a man without falling for him. Explains why you haven't had sex lately."
She was a little annoyed with Brent, even though she knew he was right. Sleeping with Daryle had been a mistake, an enjoyable mistake, but a tactical error nonetheless. Still, couldn't he have let her hang onto that warm, loved-up feeling just
a few more hours? You couldn't put anything past Brent. It was like he had x-ray vision straight into everyone's soul. Most of the time, it made him an amazing friend. He knew what you needed before you did. But today, Suzanne didn't want what she knew she needed. She had wanted a break from her solitary, loveless life and for an hour, Daryle had given her that. Brent had yanked her abruptly back into reality, a reality in which she was married to a man she didn't love and who didn't love her. A man who, at some point in the near future, would hand over a large sum of money, divorce her and then walk away.
Yes, she had definitely needed a short respite from reality.
"Just be careful," Brent said. "For me?"
Three hours later, Suzanne walked into The Cupcakery. The shop was busy for a Sunday afternoon. Lots of people were out enjoying the sunshine and picking up cupcakes before strolling down to the bay.
"Hey," Karen said. "What are you doing in today?"
"Oh, I had an idea I want to play around with."
"An idea? Care to share?"
Suzanne shook her head. "I'm not sure it's going to work out. If it doesn't, just pretend this conversation never happened."
"I thought you'd be exhausted after last night. How did the reception go?"
Suzanne was exhausted, but not from the reception. She held in her smile. "The reception went perfectly. Big crowd and the cupcakes flew off the table."
"That's what we want to hear, isn't it?"
Suzanne carried her shopping bag back into the kitchen and set up in the corner, far enough away to stay out of the girls' paths. She'd been driving back over the bridge, thinking about the new Napa shop and everything that had to be done to get it ready for opening, when a possibly great idea occurred to her. She detoured into her favorite wine shop and picked up a couple of bottles of Iris Vineyards chardonnay.
Now she gathered her ingredients around her—flour, eggs, vanilla, sugar, butter. She knew by heart how to whip up a batch of scrumptious cupcakes. This was the part of her life that made sense, that had always made sense. Suzanne was happiest when she was up to her elbows in flour and icing. Baking, she had always been able to do that, even when she was a little girl, "helping" her mother in the kitchen. The kitchen here was always hot and noisy, but at the same time it was peaceful, too. Here, Suzanne knew who she was and what she was supposed to do.
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