Cupcakes & Chardonnay Read Online Free PDF Page A

light and scrutiny, were vulnerable, delicate things. Suzanne preferred to keep them inside, protected, sheltered. And there was another thing, too. If dreams weren't spoken out loud, it was easier to pretend they didn't exist and easier to not get hurt if they didn't come true.
    She felt Daryle's thumb glide along her jawline. "You must know what you want," he said, his voice husky in the dark. "I know you better than that, Suzie Q."
    She took a step back, to shake off Daryle's fingers that now were tracing their way along her cheekbone. She took a deep breath, trying to get her lungs functioning again and some oxygen into her brain. "I have a business plan," she asserted.
    Daryle looked at her intently, a smile playing around his lips. "Then what is it?"
    "I ..." She looked out into the tangle of vines that went on for as far as she could see. "I'm planning to open new locations."
    "Where?" he challenged.
    "Noe Valley. Berkeley. College students have an insatiable appetite for cupcakes."
    "Insatiable." He repeated the word, letting it roll around in his mouth like a fine cabernet.
    Suzanne was feeling more confident. "And my catering business is booming. I'll be opening a new, larger kitchen just to handle that."
    Daryle nodded thoughtfully. "And where will you get the money?"
    Suzanne turned her gaze back to Daryle and looked him straight in the eye. "I have potential investors."
    "You'll have to pay investors back."
    She shrugged. "Isn't that the way it's done?"
    He took a step toward her. "You wouldn't have to pay me back. Two million, no strings attached. I pay for the divorce, we go our separate ways. You have the money you need to expand your business. I have Iris Vineyards."
    Suzanne stepped around him and began to walk down the row of vines. Conflicting emotions swirled in her head. It was ludicrous, she thought. I can't take that kind of money from him. I'm not a charity case. If I'm going to be in business, I have to do it for myself. Otherwise, whose success is it? But another voice chimed in, two million would be a big help. To say the least. No more worrying about making payroll after a rainy week that made customers hurry past the shop, their heads ducked under umbrellas, a cupcake the furthest thing from their minds. No more crunching and recrunching numbers in an effort to make herself feel comfortable with hiring one more employee. No more monthly back and forth on whether to switch to a cheaper brand of coffee.
    She heard Daryle's footsteps on the soft dirt, coming up quickly behind her. He laid an arm across her shoulder and pulled her to a stop.
    " I know how you feel about The Cupcakery. I could see it in the way you spoke about it at dinner tonight. How, even when you're bone-tired, it doesn't matter because you're doing something you love. I've never had that, Suzanne. Something I want to do until the day I die. Until now."
    She looked up at him. Were ... could it be ...? His eyes were shining in the darkness.
    "The thought of losing all this," he gestured with his arm toward the vines and beyond. "I know this sounds crazy, but these grapes are like my children. To not be able to come out here first thing each morning and check on them, watch their progress, plan for their harvest. And then to go inside and pour a glass of our wine for visitors, help them identify all the amazing tastes they're experiencing, send them home with a bottle or two for a special occasion ... To lose all that, it makes my heart just freeze. I've never wanted anything the way I want this winery."
    He leaned his head in closer to hers and for an instant, she was certain he was going to repeat the kiss from the car. Her breath stopped in anticipation. Whatever else they had lost from their relationship—trust, affection, tolerance—the one thing that evidently was not gone was the physical chemistry. Their eyes locked. Suzanne wanted to reach out and grasp his arms, pull his chest against hers, pull his lips down onto her