Read Online Cupcakes & Chardonnay by Julia Gabriel - Free Book Online

mother is very ill ..."
    At long last, her phone fell silent for a moment and she went online to look up the newspaper. Sure enough. There it was. "Yesterday in Napa, confirmed bachelor and wine heir Daryle Catterton wed everyone's favorite cupcake lady, Suzanne Austin, in an outdoor ceremony at Iris Vineyards."
    Favorite cupcake lady. That made her sound like a cartoon. Great. Just lovely. Her day was getting better and better.
    Her phone vibrated again. She looked at the number. Daryle.
    "I've been trying to reach you," he said. "I stopped into my mother's but she was asleep and you were gone."
    "She was tired. We had a lovely lunch, though."
    "Where are you now?"
    "In the tasting room, having a drink. I need one. My phone's been ringing off the hook with people congratulating me on the wedding."
    There was silence on the other end of the phone.
    "It was in the paper this morning. Thanks," she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
    "I had nothing to do with that."
    "With that many guests, it was bound to happen. I told you a smaller event would have been better."
    The door to the tasting room burst open and Daryle strode across the room toward Suzanne, his phone still to his ear. When he was standing right in front of her, he snapped his phone shut. "Come with me," he said quietly but sternly. "We can't have this discussion here."
    "Why not? Because then people will know we aren't the blissful newlyweds we're pretending to be?"
    "You know that's exactly the reason why." He reached down and took her hand to help her stand up. To anyone else, it was a chivalrous gesture. To Suzanne, it was anything but. She tried to pull her hand away. He squeezed tighter. She had no choice but to follow him down the long corridor that led away from the tasting room.
    "Where are we going?" she asked.
    "To my office," he said tersely. Just then he stopped at a pair of rustic wooden doors. He unlocked one and pushed it open for her. "After you."
    She stood just inside, not sure where to sit in the spacious, sunny room. Certainly not over there by the windows, on those big comfy-looking sofas. In front of his desk? She'd feel like she was in the principal's office.
    He made the decision for her. He took her hand and led her over to the sofas. He sat down on the end of one and gestured for her to sit on the other one.
    "I'm sorry there was an announcement in the paper, Suzanne," he began. "Honestly, I've been so busy with other things that I didn't even think of that. So I apologize. I would have preferred a small wedding, myself. Or no wedding, to be truthful. But that's not what my mother wanted. And in any case, we never promised you a secret marriage. You didn't think people were going to find out? That was a silly assumption on your part."
    "I think I'd like to go home today," Suzanne said.
    "I'll take you home in the morning."
    "I'd rather go today. I can rent a car and drive myself. You don't need to leave."
    "It will look better if you stay another night, Suzanne."
    She leaned back into the plush upholstery of the sofa and closed her eyes. What have I done? She was beginning to have grave doubts about her ability to pull this sham marriage off. She felt the sofa cushion move beneath her shoulders. When her eyes flew open, Daryle's face was just inches away. And then his lips were on hers, hard and insistent. Suzanne struggled to turn her head away but Daryle leaned his weight in further, his tongue tasting her lips, then pushing inside. Just as abruptly, he pulled back.
    "We have to pretend this is real, Suzanne. And pretend it convincingly." When he saw the look of skepticism on her face, he leaned in and kissed her again. This time, the kiss was lighter, teasing, exploring first her top lip, then the bottom, then both together. Suzanne murmured, unable to resist the pleasure coursing through her veins. His tongue gently pushed open her lips and then wound around her own tongue. She couldn't decide which was worse: that she'd been