Biker Babe in Black Page 7

  Mr. Turner, who Remy engaged in conversation, welcomed his wife into their small group. A classic beauty, she gazed over at her husband with adoration and love.

  “Margarine, I’d like you to meet my wife, Abigail Turner.” Mr. Turner lifted his wife’s hand and kissed the back of her wrist.

  Mrs. Turner’s entire face lit up, and Margie welcomed the warmth from the woman. Abigail was the first genuine person she’d met tonight.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Margarine. I love Remy as if he was my own son. Did he ever tell you about the time he dumped a box of laundry dye in our swimming pool?” The older woman’s eyes wrinkled at the corners.

  “Now, Abigail, you know I spent half my summer at your house making up for that.” Remy leaned over and gave Abigail an over-exaggerated, loud kiss on her cheek.

  Margie laughed, and Abigail smacked Remy on the arm. The familiarity between the Turners and Remy was apparent and more real to Margie than his relationships with his business partners.

  “One of the best summers Abigail and I had. You entertained us so much with your pranks and shenanigans.” Mr. Turner elbowed Remy’s ribs.

  “Margarine, why don’t you and I mosey on over to the bar, grab us a girl’s drink, and let these two men have a few minutes alone to talk man stuff.” Abigail linked her arm with Margie.

  At that moment, Margie knew Abigail Turner was someone she liked and trusted.

  “How long have you known Remy, Margarine?” Abigail asked.

  “Please, call me Margie. Just a few weeks.”

  “Sometimes that’s all it takes to know a person. Mr. Turner and I eloped out of college after knowing each other one month. That was…” Abigail tapped her chin, “thirty-one years ago.”

  “Really? That’s amazing. You seem like a wonderful couple.” Margie meant it from the bottom of her heart.

  “I think we are. Of course, at the time we scandalized everyone. Especially our parents.” Abigail laughed, and Margie witnessed a little mischief in her eyes.

  Margie sipped the cosmopolitan Abigail handed her, scanned across the room, and ended up on Remy. He seemed relaxed with Mr. Turner, unlike the more standoffish attitude he displayed with the others at the party. A little cough or hiccough came from Abigail Turner and drew Margie’s attention. Abigail’s mouth pinched together, and her hand tightened around the drink in her hand.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I can’t believe that barracuda is back already.” Abigail stared arrows across the room.

  Margarine followed the direction of Abigail’s gaze and narrowed her eyes. The woman who showed herself at dinner came into the room. What is her name…? Glory? No. Gloria. A normal name.

  Margie snorted. Abigail lost interest in Gloria and turned her attention to her. “I take it you’ve met Gloria?”

  Margie nodded. She knew enough to know Gloria wasn’t someone she would ever want for a friend.

  “I was introduced earlier to her.” Margie tightened her lips.

  “Pity that. I wish she would find someone else instead of setting her sights on Remy. Of course, it doesn’t help that they were engaged.” Abigail shook her head.

  Engaged? Margie’s stomach reeled. She wanted to ask Abigail what happened, but it wasn’t her place to interrogate. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t know what her position was, exactly. Housekeeper or love interest?

  “I think it’s time to return to our men. Maybe with both of us there, Gloria will retract the claws she set into Remy and tuck her tail between her legs.” Abigail took a couple of steps and stopped. “Be strong, and don’t let that woman push you around. She can be vicious.”

  Margie appreciated the advice and Abigail’s hand of comfort on her arm. Yes, Abigail is a good person to have in my corner.

  Instead of standing on the other side of Remy, Margie stood next to Abigail. The room seemed extra warm, and she drew strength from having Abigail beside her.

  “There you are, Abigail. I just asked Mr. Turner where his lovely wife was tonight.” Gloria directed her venom on Abigail.

  “Yes, here I am. I’m sure you have other people you need to speak with, so we won’t keep you.” Abigail spoke loud enough for others to hear.

  Margie bit her tongue to keep from grinning. The older lady has cojones and she knows how to use them.

  “You have always been such a delight, Abigail.” Gloria narrowed her eyes but kept the smile on her face. “In fact, I thought about you while I was touring Europe. The whole rage this season is hormone injections to reduce the crow’s feet around one’s eyes. You should really check it out.”

  Gloria turned her back on the group and brought her lips to Remy’s ear. Margie’s hands itched to give Gloria’s perfectly coiffured hair a yank. Whatever Gloria said to Remy was beside the point—she had damn well better not suck on his ear.

  Gloria swished her perfect size-two body away. Margie forced herself to smile at Remy, who blew out a lungful of air and winked.

  “Abigail, I hear you’ve adopted a new puppy.” Remy rocked back onto his heels.

  The older woman’s face broke into a sappy show of delight. Margie listened to Abigail’s accounts of the mischievous antics of the puppy they’d only received a week ago and stole glances at Remy, whose attention was drawn around the room. Did he wonder where Gloria had disappeared?

  The party grew quieter, and others began to take their leave. Margie joined Abigail, and the two of them wandered off to gather the coats. Her shoulders sagged. She’d survived, but hoped another party didn’t come in the near future.

  Abigail touched her arm at the same time she waved to another woman. “Excuse me, Margarine, I see Barbara over there and I must say hello before we leave. The coats are down the hall. You won’t miss them.”

  “Okay. It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Turner,” Margie said.

  “Call me Abigail, dear. It was very nice to meet you too, and I’m sure we will be seeing each other again. Soon.”

  Margie gave her new friend a quick hug. She liked the thought of a visit from Abigail and hearing more stories about Remy in his younger years. She might even ask Remy about inviting the Turners to dinner one night, giving her a chance to get to know Abigail better.

  A spare bedroom off the hallway held the coats. Overjoyed to find the room vacant, she sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her temples with two fingers.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mayonnaise.”

  Gloria stood in the doorway. Margie’s headache roared to life. She rolled her eyes. Great, just what I needed to end the night.

  “That’s the best one you could come up with?” Margie rose to search for her and Remy’s coats amongst the others hanging up.

  “Enjoy Remy while you can. Soon he and I will be married, and he will be done with sampling the…” Gloria cleared her throat, “help.”

  How did Gloria find out she worked for Remy? Margie spotted their coats, piled them over her arm, and marched past Gloria without batting an eyelash. Okay, maybe she did have something to say to the woman.

  She placed her hand on the doorframe and gazed over her shoulder at Gloria. Two people could play this game, and where she came from…you fought hard and dirty.

  “Oh, by the way, Glory. While Remy’s screwing the help, if I ever catch your mouth attached to his ear again, I’ll rip those pretty hair extensions off your head faster than you can fart for help.”

  Chapter Ten

  The radio played low in Remy’s Porsche, filling the silence. Neither he nor Margie talked on the way home. Remy thought over how he could get back into good graces with Margie. He would have skipped the whole party if he’d known Gloria had planned to come.

  He dodged her whenever possible, for the same reason he’d broken off their engagement ten years earlier. He once thought it doable to have a life with Gloria. His parents certainly wanted him to make a match between the two families. Lucky for him, she showed her true colors, and he wasn’t going to go back
to visit that mistake.

  Remy downshifted the car and crept to the stoplight. He glanced over at Margie. Her head leaned back on the headrest.

  “Tired?”

  “A little.” She gazed out the front windshield.

  “I’m sorry about tonight. I had no idea…” The light turned green, and he lifted his foot off the clutch.

  “It’s okay.”

  The car shot forward through the green light, and Margie scarcely said two words to him. He’d planned to seduce her tonight. She’d encouraged him in many ways the last couple of weeks, and he knew he needed to do some heavy rescue work to get her back in the mood.

  “Can I make tonight up to you by asking if you’ll go out for a morning ride with me?”

  “Hmm, maybe.” She glanced at him then returned to gaze out the window.

  Pretty obvious she’s going to make me beg for her attention.

  Remy supposed every guy needed to learn that impressing a girl took hard work and stamina.

  “Maybe, huh? Do I have to up the ante and say I wanted you to ride on the back of my motorcycle and take you for a ride?”

  Margie slipped her heels off, tucked her dress under her legs to keep it in place, and planted both of her bare feet on the dash of his car. She laid her head against her knees and beamed at him.

  Damn, she’s sexier than hell.

  “I might ride with you…if you ask me nicely.”

  To Remy’s ears, she practically purred those words.

  “Margarine Butter, will you ride with me…?” He looked at her and winked. “On my motorcycle.”

  She laughed, and the sound trickled over him like a caress.

  “Yes, Remy. I’ll ride with you…” Margarine returned the wink, “on your motorcycle.”

  They arrived home, separating only long enough for Margarine and Remy to retreat to their respected bedrooms to change into something more comfortable to wear for the night. He planned to remove everything soon anyway, if things worked out right.

  Once in the living room, he sprawled out on the couch in a pair of jeans and a well-worn tee shirt, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table. He smiled at Margie.

  “I don’t know what I like better. You all dressed up, or seeing you now with your hair in a ponytail, wearing Hello Kitty pajamas.” He grinned, amazed that kitty nightwear ranked higher for him than lingerie.

  “Hey, don’t be knockin’ my PJs. I happen to like them.” Margie claimed the other end of the couch, stretched her feet out, and planted them on Remy’s lap.

  He handed the television control to Margie and placed his hands on her feet. To his delight, she sported not one, but two toe rings. His lip twitched. She brought out a bunch of firsts for him. First, kitty pajamas, and now a foot fetish that got his juices primed. Damned if those bright red toenails and toe rings didn’t tempt him into a planting a kiss on her dainty feet.

  Margie flipped through the television channels, but with Remy’s hands doing their magic on her feet, she couldn’t care less about what played on the idiot box.

  “Mm…” Margie laid her head on the back of the couch. She closed her eyes and let the tingles travel through her body.

  “You know you owe me a kiss?” She kept her eyes closed.

  “I do?”

  Did he tease her, or really forget he promised her a kiss? She opened one eye. “You promised tonight that before I went to bed you would give me a kiss.”

  “Hmm.” Remy continued his manipulation on her feet.

  “You can do it now.” Margie frowned.

  “Do what now?”

  “Give me a kiss.” She threw one of the couch pillows at his head and missed.

  “Give you a kiss?”

  Margie lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye. Sometimes the man appeared too aloof. “Yes!”

  “Nope.” He ran his finger up the arch of her foot.

  Margie attempted to pull her feet off his lap, but Remy held on tight. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. The distasteful evening slipped from her mind, as Remy’s touch brought her back to the moment.

  “Not yet, anyway.” He switched from the arch of her foot to running his finger between her toes. “In a while, after I enjoy playing with your feet, and you tell me a little about yourself.”

  “About me?” Margie’s voice rose, and her stomach tightened up. The last thing she wanted brought up was her past. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Sure there is. How about I ask you a question, and then you can ask me a question in return?”

  The man’s fingers on her body made it hard to follow the conversation. A sigh escaped her. Remy ran his thumb along her arch. How was she supposed to concentrate on evading his questions about her past, if all she could think about was the way his hands were traveling farther up her leg?

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  “Where were you born?”

  That’s an easy one. “Sacramento, California.”

  “Your turn. Ask away.” Remy’s fingers circled her ankles.

  “If you could have one wish, right this minute, what would it be?”

  “To have you in my bed.”

  Margie’s head swam. He was so different than any other guy she’d dated. Most guys she knew obsessed with getting her in bed. On dates, she ended up worn out by the end of the evening from the constant slaps she delivered to trespassing hands. Not Remy. He put everything on the table and spoke the truth.

  “Why haven’t you tried?”

  “Is that your question?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You only get one turn, remember?”

  “This is childish, Remy.” She crossed her arms and leaned back again.

  “Have patience, sweetheart.”

  She shook her head. Maybe she would ask how he gained so much control over himself. Or, cut to the chase, and find out what she really wanted to know.

  “Tell me…” She pulled her feet off Remy’s lap and curled her legs so she sat on her feet facing him, “about your relationship with Gloria.”

  There. The invisible person with them this evening brought out into the open. She would sense if he was anything but truthful with her.

  Remy tilted his head back. “Ah, Gloria. I was wondering if you were going to question my relationship with her. We grew up together. Our parents were best friends and not-so-secretly wished that their two children would someday join and unite our families.”

  “Did you love her?” she asked.

  “In a way. I don’t believe it was the kind of love you have for someone you see yourself wanting for the rest of your life. We were comfortable with each other and pretty much fell into being a couple.”

  “But you separated?” She leaned her elbows on her knees.

  “Yes. I knew I wasn’t happy with Gloria, so I broke off our engagement.”

  “How long ago?”

  Remy pulled her hand, and she tumbled over to his side of the couch. She let him snuggle.

  “I owe you two questions, since you asked out of turn.” Remy flicked her nose with his finger.

  Margie snorted. She wanted to do other things than play this game. It reminded her of the Truth or Dare challenges Reefer and Crowbar used to talk her into participating in.

  “Fine. Ask away.” She stuck out her lower lip.

  “First question. Can I kiss you?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. Finally!

  Remy’s lips touched hers. Gentle and soft, he explored every centimeter of her mouth. It was one of those kisses where a person slows down and shows experience; a sensual dance of the lips.

  The stubble of his whiskers grazed her face, and she raised her hand to touch more of him. Tiny jolts of electricity filled her lower stomach and she sagged against him. The warmth of his lips ignited her body.

  Remy nudged her with his tongue to open her mouth. She parted her lips, enough to accept the gentle swipe of his tongue against hers. The ball of fire in the pit of her belly ruptured and spread out into every
hidden spot inside of her body.

  She opened her mouth wider and moaned. Her neck stretched and drove her closer to Remy.

  Remy’s hand entwined in her hair at her nape, and Margie let him take control of the kiss. She yearned for more, yet every time she urged him, he held back.

  He removed his mouth, hovered above her lips, and stared into her eyes. She licked her lips to savor the taste of him.

  “Please…” she whispered.

  “Not yet.” He rubbed his cheek along her neck.

  “Yes. Now.”

  Remy stood, lifted Margie into his arms, and carried her to his bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and enjoyed the trail of kisses he marked down the side of her neck. He laid her on the bed, and his mouth recaptured her lips. She gasped and arched her back at the sensation of his fingers sliding past the elastic of her pajamas.

  Remy plucked her pants off with one yank, and she gazed at him.

  Remy chuckled. “My god, I’m going to hire whoever made that and have them make more in every color.”

  She glanced down at herself to understand what attracted his attention. The only thing she wore below her waist was a black leather thong with metal studs.

  Her shirt came off next and joined the pajama bottoms on the floor. She strained to touch all of him. Her feminine parts throbbed with desire.

  His finger traced the edge of the leather thong. She moaned and raised her hips. She wished he’d rip the skimpy material off.

  Remy stood, unbuttoned his jeans, and Margie tugged them off. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and delighted in how his dick bobbed for her attention. He quickly slipped a condom on, and came back to her.

  Kneeling over Margarine, he kissed her from head to toe. She shuddered at the way he slipped his finger around the little piece of leather between her legs and moved it to the side.

  Remy massaged her moistness, emitting a purr from her soul. She squirmed underneath him and begged for more. Margie’s breath came out in pants. Unable to speak, she caught Remy’s gaze and urged him to enter her body.