Biker Babe in Black Page 11

  The men who surrounded Remy turned their heads to Gloria, and Remy stopped talking. Margie snorted, but no one witnessed her slip of manners, because they all ogled Gloria. The saying “men think with their dicks” couldn’t be truer.

  Remy stood next to Gloria and entered her into conversation. Margie tried to hear what he said, but she stood too far away. She tucked her hair behind her ear and walked a few more feet along the side wall.

  She spotted an art piece closer to the group and strolled over to examine it. At least if Remy spied her, it would appear she had an interest in art, not eavesdropping.

  “Remy and I are so excited about this project we are working on for Father.” Gloria shook her hair behind her shoulders.

  “It will benefit so many children when it’s up and running,” Remy added.

  Margie’s eyes narrowed, and the painting she faced blurred in front of her eyes. Clay’s right. He is working with Gloria.

  She didn’t catch anything else, only Remy’s bark of laughter after something his ex-fiancée said. She frowned. Not caring if anyone noticed her exit, she marched out the front door. She needed fresh air.

  With everyone still inside, she strolled around the outside of the building toward the back. The cool night air helped calm Margie. She slipped off her shoes and picked them up. A walk barefoot through the grass sprinkled with dew might cool off her temper. If she stayed inside, who knew where her anger would take her.

  Margie followed the newly laid grass around the building where it ended in a courtyard with a huge water fountain built in the middle. She laid her purse and shoes on the concrete bench, sat down, and dangled her feet in the fountain water. The thought of Remy secretly working with Gloria bothered her more than she realized.

  Remy having to work with Gloria didn’t bother her. She trusted him. What did bother her was why he’d never mentioned it before. She wondered if he wanted to hide it from her, and if the involvement indicated something else.

  Okay, I’m jealous.

  Jealous over someone rich and beautiful. Margie opened her purse, dug out a few coins, and closed her eyes.

  “My first wish is…I want Remy to love me forever and always.” She threw a coin in the fountain.

  “Second wish…” She pursed her lips and gave it some thought. “My second wish is for a house of my own.” The second quarter joined the first in the bottom of the water.

  She returned the other to her purse and set it beside her on the bench. She giggled at the silliness of her wishes. Did she think her life resembled a Disney movie, and her fairy godmother would appear at any time? She glanced to the left and to the right. Nope, no godmother.

  Margie spent a few more minutes at the fountain and decided she’d better go back and find Remy. Slipping one of her shoes on, she balanced on the four-inch heel and reached for the other shoe.

  Someone grabbed her arm. She screamed and yanked her arm away, but with only one shoe on, she lost her balance. Another scream erupted. Her knee hit the concrete bench, and she propelled her arms to keep from falling backwards into the fountain. Too late.

  Help!

  Margie fought against her terror, and her head sunk under the water. Her irrational fear of drowning won out over the fact the water was shallow enough to stand up in. She managed to get her hands on the bottom of the pool, push herself up, and sit with her head out of the water. Margie sputtered, coughed, and struggled with the wet hair over her face. Argh.

  “Margie, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Clay Barrett reached to help her out of the fountain.

  The stupid man grinned through his apology. Margie grasped his hand and, because he’d pissed her off enough to spit nails, she pulled him over and into the fountain. His body produced a huge splash.

  That’ll make your little wiener shrivel up.

  Margie laughed. The expression on Clay’s face was hilarious. She worked to get up out of the water and sat back down after she slipped on the rocks…and probably her stupid quarter at the bottom.

  “What was that for?” Clay yelled.

  Margie found a foothold and heaved herself up and out of the fountain. She groaned. Her dress plastered itself against her.

  “Just look at me. Do you see what you did? You…you prissy, car-driving yuppie!” She flapped her arms.

  Margie gave him a dirty look over her shoulder, picked up her purse and shoes, and stomped back to the front of the building. She looked pathetic.

  Not wanting anyone to catch her in this condition, she decided to hide and wait for Remy to come outside. She found a bush not too far from the front door and stood behind it. Not the best plan, but she didn’t have any other choice.

  Even though she stood soaked to the bone and hidden behind the shrubbery, she cracked up. Clay rounded the corner and ran smack dab into a group of people leaving the opening. Pay back is a bitch, huh, Clay?

  Her laughter came to an abrupt stop. Remy walked among the group Clay ran into. Margie bit her lip. Clay intercepted Remy, and even this far away, Margie saw Remy’s neck turn red.

  She waited for the others to leave, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. Margie left her hiding spot and strolled over to Remy and Clay. She chose to ignore the water trail behind her and the fact she shook like a vibrating bed.

  Margie refused to glance away and dared either one of them to say a word about her condition. She shivered. Please let this night come to an end.

  “Re…Rem…Remy.” Her teeth chattered, and the tips of her fingers had already gone numb from the cold.

  “Don’t talk.” Remy inhaled through his nose.

  “But Re…Remy.”

  “I said don’t talk, Margarine.” Remy gripped Margie’s upper arm and led her to his car.

  Tears rushed to her eyes. He pulled her across the parking lot in bare feet, and the little pebbles on top of the asphalt dug into her tender flesh. Why is he so mad at me? I didn’t do anything!

  Remy opened the door to the Porsche, waited for Margie to sit down, and slammed the door shut. He started the car and lit out of the parking lot. On the freeway, Margie kept her gaze on the speedometer. Remy drove eighty miles per hour on a fifty-five highway.

  “Remy, can I explain?” She hugged her middle, but with the wet dress, it didn’t help her get warm.

  “No.”

  “This is ri-ri-diculous. I don’t see wh-why you’re mad. If I can ju-just tell you what ha-happened…” If she explained, he’d understand. It didn’t make any sense why he was so angry. “C-an you—”

  He punched his fist against the steering wheel. “God dammit, not another word.”

  Margie turned her head and looked out the side window. If he didn’t want to talk, fine. She wouldn’t talk with him. Ever. Not even to ask him to turn the heater on inside the car.

  Remy pulled into the garage and pushed the remote to close the door. Margie followed behind his brisk pace into the house, her body stiff and half-frozen. The late summer nights cooled down rather quickly in the Pacific Northwest once the sun started going down.

  She glared at his back and traced his steps to his office. “How d-d-dare you treat m-me like one of your employees. Playing Mister I-Control-Everybody and sh-sh-shutting me out. If you’re ticked off at me why don’t you have the guts t-to tell me to my face?” Her energy zapped, she leaned against the wall for support.

  With his back to her, he paused, his hand gripping the door handle. And, without acknowledging her, he shut his office door. The click of the lock ricocheted in the hallway.

  She wanted to scream in frustration, but instead she marched to her room and threw the door closed with a bang. No one treated Margarine Butter this way and survived to tell about it.

  She punched the buttons on the shower and stalked back out to the bedroom where she kept all her belongings. She struggled with the zipper on the back of her dress. One of the sleeves ripped, and the outfit brought a satisfied splat to Margie once it hit the floor.

  The
bathroom filled with steam, and Margie welcomed the warmth of the shower. With the rising of her body temperature, she lost control of her emotions and sobbed. Her perfect day had ended in high drama fashion.

  Moreover, the big butthead in the next room blames me.

  She stepped out of the shower and grabbed for the counter. Her head felt funny, and her legs didn’t want to move very fast. The room tilted. Maybe she’d better lie down…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Remy sat in his office with the lights out. Clay’s words played over and over in his head. What he’d told him didn’t measure up, and it ate at Remy’s heart. Margarine is the most honest and loyal person I know. Why in hell did Clay admit to an accident and at the same time confess that Margarine talked him into walking outside?

  The grandfather clock on the mantel in the office chimed once. Remy rubbed his eyes and sighed. Tonight he’d turned into a control freak. Margie had hit the bull’s-eye with the assessment. His type A personality erupted and embarrassed him.

  Remy always protected himself from others who wanted to take advantage of him. He was used to ordering people around. Plain and simple, he’d turned into an asshole, and he didn’t blame Margie for the way he’d acted.

  He stepped out into the dark hall, and the first thing he spotted was Margarine’s closed door. Since the night he’d brought her back to the house after she’d run away from the party, she’d slept beside him in his bed, and it pained him that she’d shut him out tonight. He needed to right the wrong he’d done and get her back into his bed before time made things worse for everyone.

  Remy opened the door. Margarine lay huddled under the bed covers, only her hair visible. The muscles in his jaw relaxed. She owned so many qualities he loved. Full of fire and love for him, she never lost parts of herself to other people and stood up for what she believed in—even if it didn’t match what society thought was the norm.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her hair. His hand flinched at the temperature of her head. My god, she’s burning up with fever.

  Remy turned on the bedside lamp and caught sight of the sheen of sweat covering Margarine’s face. He reached in his pocket for his cell phone and dialed his private doctor. She’s ill because I didn’t take good enough care of her. His thoughts were irrational and he knew better, yet it was his fault she’d shivered all the way home in that damn dress.

  She’d even chattered from the cold, and all he did was yell at her to stop. He slammed his fist against the wall. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. He needed her to get better.

  Later, Dr. Larson came out of the bedroom and almost ran into Remy, who paced the hallway. Remy grabbed the doctor by the front of his coat.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Settle down, Remington.” Dr. Larson removed Remy’s hands and smoothed out his coat. “She’s going to be all right. She’s running a fever, but I don’t see anything else wrong with her. I gave her two acetaminophen, and you can repeat that every four hours until her fever goes down.” Dr. Larson patted Remy on the shoulder. “Sometimes the body overreacts when there has been a shock. Being dunked in cold water and then fighting to stay warm has triggered her body to overheat. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  The breath Remy held during the explanation came out of him in one big whoosh. He shook the doctor’s hand and thanked him for the late-night house call.

  “Go ahead and sit with her. I’ll see myself out.” Dr. Larson waved over his shoulder on his way to the door.

  Remy lay down on the bed and pulled Margarine against him. He stared out the window into the dark and ignored the wetness coming out of the corners of his eyes. He loved her more than anything in the world.

  A short time later, Margarine struggled beside him and tried to kick off the blankets. Remy got up, fetched a cool, wet washcloth, and draped it over her forehead. He needed to get more medicine into her to help with the fever.

  He poured two pills in his hand from the bottle the doctor had left him and carried a glass of water to the bed. Margarine moaned in her sleep.

  “Margarine, baby. Wake up. I have something that will make you feel better.” Remy nudged her.

  She didn’t respond. Remy sat on the bed, lifted Margarine into a sitting position, and reached over to grab the pills again.

  “Open up, baby.” He coaxed her mouth open.

  He slipped the pills onto her tongue, picked up the glass of water, and force fed her enough liquid to make sure she swallowed the pills. Remy felt Margarine relax and he lay back down.

  “I swear, Margarine Butter, when this is all over, I’ll never shut you out again,” Remy whispered as he drifted to sleep.

  The vibration of his phone jolted Remy awake. He ran his hand over Margarine’s forehead and smiled. Thank God.

  He pulled the phone out of his pocket. The caller ID showed Mr. Turner called. Remy slid off the bed and walked into the bathroom to take the call so he didn’t wake Margarine, who finally slept comfortably since falling ill.

  “Yeah?”

  “Remy, we have a problem at the construction site in Tahoe,” Mr. Turner informed him.

  Remy ran his hand through his hair and tried to make sense of what Turner said. He didn’t have time to deal with business problems with Margarine lying in bed recovering.

  “Can’t you handle this? Margarine took ill last night, and I just got her fever to break. I don’t want to leave her bedside.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Remy, but the architects are demanding to see you immediately. The site crew ran into a contamination spill. They want to junk the whole project because the cleanup is going to cost more than the actual construction.”

  Remy glanced through the doorway, and Margarine stirred. “Give me two hours, Turner. I’ll call you back.”

  ***

  Margarine opened her eyes and sat up in bed. Why was Remy in her room? Furthermore, why did she sleep in her room instead of Remy’s? Oh yeah, the fight.

  Remy pocketed the phone, hurried over to Margarine’s side, and laid his hand on her forehead. He smiled, and his eyes softened over the intense stare he wore a moment ago.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Margie cocked her eyebrow and wondered why he even spoke to her or acted like he cared. Last she knew, he blamed her for everything

  “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

  “Baby, you scared me to death.” He brushed his lips on her forehead.

  Margarine threw the covers off her legs and stood. She grabbed her head and swayed. Why is the room spinning?

  “Here, sit back down.” Remy grabbed her arms and sat her back on the edge of the bed. “When I came in to check on you last night, I found you racked with fever. The doctor came. God, baby, I’m such an asshole.”

  “The doctor?” Why don’t I remember?

  “I had Dr. Larson come over; he’s my doctor, and he examined you. You had a fever from getting too cold last night. Margarine…” Remy cupped both sides of her face. “You have no idea how scared I was. I was terrified something was horribly wrong with you.” He picked up her hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. “I fucked up. I’m so sorry. I will never, ever shut the door on you again.”

  “But you were so mad. You wouldn’t let me talk.” She rubbed her forehead and tried to remember all that had transpired last night.

  “I’m going to try never to shut you out ever again, Margarine. I’m a stubborn asshole, and I should never have treated you that way.” Remy remained kneeled in front of her and laid his head in her lap.

  “I’m sorry too. I hadn’t planned on causing you trouble last night. Things just went downhill fast, and before I knew it Clay Barrett startled me and I fell into the fountain.” She ran her hand over his head.

  “You have the damndest luck.” Remy kissed her and helped her stand. “Take it slowly so you don’t get dizzy.”

  He escorted her to the bathroom and left long enough to affo
rd her some privacy. “That explains why you were wet, but how did Clay get wet?” Remy asked behind the closed door.

  A loopy grin formed on Margarine’s face. “It seems he doesn’t know when he’s not wanted, and I was mad he startled me and I fell into the fountain. When he reached out to help me out of the water…” She giggled. “I pulled him into the fountain to cool him off.”

  Remy’s booming laughter drifted into the bathroom.

  “You know he’s a huge pervert who tries to make a move on me when he thinks your back is turned?” She rinsed her hands at the sink.

  “Yeah. I just didn’t think he’d mess with my woman. Don’t worry, he’s history at the office after pulling this stunt.”

  Margie brushed her hair in front of the mirror, and Remy opened the door wide enough to stick his head in to check on her.

  “Hey, babe, an emergency has come up, and I am going to have to make some phone calls. I’ll leave the door open, and if you need anything let me know, okay?”

  “Go ahead. I’m just going to brush my teeth and then I’ll be out. Maybe grab some grapes. I’m a little hungry.” She squirted toothpaste on her brush.

  Remy closed the door. She didn’t brush her teeth but cocked her head to listen. Is he still standing out there? She opened the bathroom door. She’d figured right. Remy stood in the bedroom and contemplated whether to leave her alone.

  “I feel fine. Seriously. Just a little tired. Go, Remy. Make your phone calls.”

  Margie walked to the kitchen, grabbed a stem full of grapes, and carried them into the living room. She turned on the TV and settled down to watch a trivia game show. She sucked at trivia, but concentrated on the next question the host asked.

  “What tower was built for the 1962 World Fair?”

  Oh, oh, she knew this one! “The Seattle Space Needle.”

  She guessed the answer right before the host repeated, “The Seattle Space Needle.” She punched the air in a half-hearted victory. If she’d possessed more energy, she’d jump up and down. She rarely ever guessed the right answers on these kinds of shows.