He turned and gestured, inviting her to join him.
"How can you tell the difference between this one and that one?" she asked, looking up at the two formidable skeletons. They both looked identical to her. Large bodies and thigh bones, powerful looking tails and, judging by the dagger-like teeth, both carnivores.
"T. rex has two claws," Daryle pointed to the creature on the left. "Allosaurus has three."
Suzanne laughed. "I never knew you were such a dinosaur geek."
"Well, maybe there are things you still don't know about me," he said. Like how
badly I want you in my bed again. She was wearing a light blue linen dress, sleeveless to expose her perfectly toned arms. He didn't know much—well, anything at all, really—about dressmaking but it was impossible to miss the way the dress fabric skimmed her curves and draped and redraped every time she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He wanted nothing more than to take her back to the hotel, slip that dress over her shoulders and just admire the sexy body he knew was underneath.
"When I can't sleep at night, I watch all the science channels. It's been highly educational," he said. And I can't sleep a lot these days. Not since the morning he woke up in Suzanne's apartment.
He'd been entirely unsuccessful at putting that morning out of his mind. How soft and warm Suzanne's lips had been ... the taste of her breasts ... how perfectly her hips still fit against his ... like adjoining pieces of a puzzle. Something had changed that morning. For him, at least. If their lovemaking had meant anything to her, she wasn't letting on, he thought. Suzanne was as business-like as ever toward him. But things were different now for him. He'd never been the sort to invest sex with any more significance than it needed. He'd slept with his share of women but, when he left their beds, whatever had happened there stayed there. He didn't think about it for days afterward, didn't replay it in slow motion while lying in bed by himself.
But Suzanne ... those memories refused to stay down. He'd notice the way light slanted into his office and it reminded him of the way the early morning sun had brushed over her cheeks. A shadow among the vines would recall to him the hollow between her full, round breasts. A breeze through some trees and suddenly he was hearing the sharp intake of her breath as he had touched some new place on her skin.
He hadn't really needed her to come on this trip with him. Oh, his mother certainly thought it necessary but Daryle didn't always share his mother's certainties. It was true that everyone in the industry regarded Iris Vineyards as a family-run business but people also knew about his mother's health and that he was taking over. Things were changing.
In reality, he had just wanted to spend some time with Suzanne, time uninterrupted by her punishing schedule at her shop. She'd tear him limb from limb if she ever learned that her presence at the conference had not been strictly necessary—if she discovered that he had pulled her away from her business for his own purely selfish motives.
He had another reason for bringing her along, too. He wanted to see if Suzanne could relax and enjoy herself for a week. She was a classic Type A personality. Workaholic. Driven. Perfectionist. All qualities that had served her well, but had also come between them in the past. He was more grounded now, to be sure, and working like a madman most of the time just like her. But he still needed to kick back, relax, have fun. Even at the winery, he was motivated by pleasure, by his pleasure walking through the fields, in seeing a visitor experience a new wine, in taking that first taste of a new vintage. He knew Suzanne had the same capacity for pleasure in her—anyone who baked for a living did. What he wasn't sure of was whether she could let it out.
He turned his attention back to the T. rex and Allosaurus looming over him. But Suzanne was gone. He looked around frantically, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her on the outskirts of a tour group, listening raptly to the young docent. She's always in the present, he thought. That was one of her strengths. Wherever she was, she was there a hundred percent. Not like he had been, always thinking about the next adventure, the next night out. What had he been thinking back then? All those years down the drain.
He meandered down the line of exhibits, stopping at a display about Deinonychus, a partial fossilized skeleton next to an illustrated scene of several Deinonychus surrounding a larger Tenontosaurus. A young boy—probably seven or eight years old, Daryle estimated—was peppering his mother with questions.
"Why are those dinosaurs so small?"
"I don't know. Let's read the —"
"Is that big dinosaur going to eat the smaller ones?"
The mother sighed. "I'm not sure. What does the sign say—"
Daryle kneeled down next to the boy. "This is Deinonychus. One of my favorite dinosaurs, actually. They weren't very big. Not all dinosaurs were," he explained patiently. "But Deinonychus was one fierce creature."
The boy looked up at him with raw admiration in his eyes. His mother's eyes were filled with gratitude. Daryle smiled at her. She was an attractive woman, with long blonde hair held back by big dark sunglasses. Her figure was slender in cropped white jeans and a tight-fitting blue tee shirt. He waited for that rush of adrenaline to hit him the way it usually did when he encountered an attractive woman.
Still waiting.
He smiled at her. She and her son had the same beachy hair and sunny blue eyes. She smiled back. Still nothing.
"Who's going to eat who?" the boy asked, tugging at Daryle's arm.
"Well, actually, that big dinosaur in the middle is about to be lunch. Deinonychus made up for its size by hunting in packs with other Deinonychus. They would attack a bigger dinosaur and slash it with their claws until it was weakened. Then they'd just sit back and wait for it to bleed to death."
"Eeew," the boy's mother said.
Daryle and the boy laughed. "It's a guy thing," Daryle said, standing up.
"Thanks for explaining this to him," she said. "I'm a little lost when it comes to dinosaurs."
Daryle was about to say something when the boy darted off toward the next exhibit. His mother hurried to catch up. "Sorry! Thanks again."
Daryle looked around for Suzanne. He headed toward the tour group and circled its perimeter. No Suzanne. He walked quickly through the dinosaur hall, his head swiveling right and left, scanning every cluster of people, looking for her. Where could she have gone? Had she left the museum entirely? I bet she saw me talking to that boy's mother. Suzanne had always gotten jealous easily. She denied it but he knew it was true. She'd been jealous at Alanna's reception when Noelle showed up. He knew she believed he'd invited Noelle. He hadn't. In fact, even Alanna had read him the riot act over Noelle showing up. Can't a man change? he thought.
Ah, there she is! Suzanne was talking to a security guard at the other end of the hall. A little girl in auburn pigtail braids and a navy and white striped dress was clutching Suzanne's hand. He watched as Suzanne knelt down to speak to the girl, gently wiping away the tears on her cheeks. They looked so much alike, anyone would have thought they were mother and daughter. A smile crept over his face.
The security guard was on her radio now. Daryle began to weave his way through the hall, in their direction. He was halfway there when a man rushed up to Suzanne and the little girl. The girl released Suzanne's hand and rushed into the man's arms. The man was sharply-dressed in a pinstriped suit and gleaming black wingtips, his dark hair slicked back behind his ears. Taking his daughter out over lunch? For a moment, it reminded Daryle of childhood dinners with his father, just the two of them. He had always felt so grownup, walking into a fancy restaurant behind his bespoke suited father, ordering a Shirley Temple from the bar, the way his father seemed to know everyone no matter what city they were in.
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."
&n
bsp; 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.
Cupcakes & Chardonnay Page 10
