Biker Babe in Black

by Debra Kayn

  A soft bell set the elevator in motion. Something about the lady tickled his memory. A burning ball of excitement hit him in the gut. He realized the Harley-riding angel from Georgia’s Restaurant stood in the elevator with him. Call me lucky.

  The woman lifted her skirt and flashed him the prettiest black thong on an exceptional ass. Women threw themselves at him all the time, but not one of them had ever tried to seduce him in an elevator.

  Despite the woman’s height, her legs stretched high and muscular. Her ass rounded behind her, and he’d bet his left nut a quarter would bounce off that succulent globe.

  Her posture relaxed, and she continued her manipulations on her backside. The grin on his face grew with each moan she gave. Yeah, seducing him in an elevator rated high on his list of things he wanted to experience.

  He cleared his throat.

  Margie froze in place, her skirt bunched around her waist. She flicked her gaze left and right again, and jerked her skirt down. She groaned. The only place left for someone to hide in the elevator without her seeing when she backed in was behind her.

  She turned her head, and her body followed. Oh no! You have to be kidding me.

  The man from the restaurant fiasco stood in the back of the elevator, a lust-filled smile on his face. She curled her lip, stuck her head up in the air, and viewed him over her nose.

  “Are you making it a habit to follow me around?” A concealed weapons permit for carrying that much sexy around in public should be required for a man with his good looks.

  The elevator doors opened, and Margie didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed her cart out. A stalker didn’t fit into her life today.

  The cart banged against the door of Montgomery Steel in Margie’s hurry to escape from her maybe-stalker. She waited, but no one showed up to take the orders. The other offices had used their secretary to accept orders.

  “Hello?” She cocked her head. Maybe everyone sat in a lunchroom in the back somewhere…

  “Sunshine Coffee, I have your order,” she said louder.

  The front office door opened behind Margie. She turned her head and came face to face with the sexier-than-sin maybe stalker. Heat crept up her neck, and she clenched her hands into fists.

  “Get a clue, dude. It would take one phone call to my brothers, and you wouldn’t be picking women up ever again.” Margie shook her fist at him. “Trust me when I say you wouldn’t want that.”

  The man casually strolled around her and opened the top drawer of the secretary’s desk. Seriously, this guy needed a reality check. Stealing from someone’s personal desk…even his looks couldn’t award him with a Get Out of Jail Free pass.

  “How much?” He fingered a few bills he’d removed from the desk.

  Here we go again.

  “Seriously. You need to stop trying to buy me. I’m not for sale.” Margie crossed her arms, intent to end this silly game. The coffee grew colder the longer she let him take up her time.

  “Buy you?” He shook his head.

  Remy placed the money on her cart and did his own arm crossing. “I’ve never bought a woman in my life, and if I did, she’d be worth more than the five dollars I owe her for coffee.” He nodded toward the top of the cart.

  A five-dollar bill lay on Margie’s cart. She sagged and knew she’d screwed up. She bent over, opened the door on the cart, and extracted a cup of Columbian coffee. Strong. Black.

  “Here’s your coffee, sir, and thank you for ordering through Sunshine Coffee House, where we only serve the best.” She smiled.

  “Remington Montgomery, but my friends call me Remy.” He took the cup from her and held out his other hand.

  She watched the way her fingers disappeared inside his much larger hand, before quickly pulling free. “Margarine Butter. You can call me Margie.”

  The room closed in on Margie, and silence reached her ears. She rolled her eyes and waited for what came next. Why did her full name slip out? He must unnerve me more than I thought.

  “It’s not—”

  Margie smirked and waved a hand in front of him to stop him from embarrassing himself. “I know. It’s not butter. Ha ha, funny.”

  She stood and waited for the other shoe to drop. It always did. Either the man played dumb, or it didn’t dawn on him that her name belonged on a piece of toast.

  “I was going to say,” he pointed at the emblem on her blouse, “it’s not the name printed on your nametag.”

  Did he really not think her name was the most sidesplitting thing he’d ever come across? A genuine smile broke out across Margie’s face. Finally, she’d found someone in the world, outside of her family, who didn’t react to her name by laughing his fool head off.

  She gazed up at him. Gorgeous, considerate, and—judging from the silk shirt and Gucci suit he modeled—successful. In addition, he didn’t laugh at her name—the best part, in her opinion. Hallelujah and let the choir sing.

  “Apparently Susie Tomkins wore the uniform before me.” Margie patted her nametag. “I’m still waiting to receive my official acceptance into the Coffee Servers of the World union.”

  He laughed, and she found herself smiling back.

  “That’s the reason why you caught me with my dress up.” Margie bit down on her lower lip. “I wasn’t flashing you, I swear.”

  “No harm done. I’m just glad it was me who got to witness your moment to scratch.” He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms again.

  “You don’t have to make it sound like you enjoyed it.” She didn’t stop her lip from twitching. Why did his obvious pleasure at a glimpse of what lay under her clothes secretly thrill her?

  “Oh, geez, I’m late.” She struggled with turning the cart around. “I can’t screw up on my first day on the job, or they’ll fire me.”

  “Here, follow me. There’s a private elevator down the hall you can use. Only the top floor executives use it. It’ll be quicker than taking the main elevators at this time of the day.”

  Margie pushed the now-empty cart and followed Remy down the hallway. She focused on the way his slacks pulled against his tight butt with each stride. He stopped, and she almost ran the cart into the back of him. Dang, I’m acting all googly-eyed-schoolgirl over a good-looking man.

  She liked to scope out men, but this man gave her a real buzz; the same kind of rush she felt when going down Thrill Hill on her motorcycle at sixty miles per hour.

  The elevators seemed the same as the ones she used earlier, only smaller. Remy entered the elevator and held the door open for her, and she pushed the cart over the threshold.

  “I can find my way down. I won’t get lost.” She scooted over to push the button for the lobby.

  “I need to get some files out of my car, so I’ll go ahead and ride down with you.”

  “Okay.”

  Margie stared at the control panel and focused on what kind of excuse she might tell the manager of why she’d run late. She didn’t have time to make a new friend today; she needed to concentrate on her job.

  The edge of Margie’s cap sprang free. She poked the curls back under, but now that her hair was loose the cap didn’t stay on. She must have lost a bobby pin. She swore one day she’d work at a job that didn’t require a hairnet or hat of any kind to do the work.

  “Here, let me.” He fiddled with her hair.

  “You’re a hair stylist?” She raised her eyebrow.

  Remy snorted.

  “Hey, there isn’t anything wrong with cutting and styling other people’s hair. I’ve done it.” She shook her head but stopped because it pulled her hair out of his grasp.

  “Why are you serving coffee if you style hair?”

  “Well, I tried to be a stylist, but they realized I had no formal training and fired me before lunchtime.” Margie shrugged. “Who knew it was harder than it looked.”

  Remy stood so close to her, the rapid rise and fall of his chest from his laughter threatened to push her away. The rush of relief across the surface of her sc
alp hit her, and she grabbed for the cap, but Remy had already removed it.

  His other hand threaded its way into her mass of hair, and her locks tumbled free around her shoulders.

  “Shit. You shouldn’t have done that. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get that cap on so it stays put?” She held out her hand. If she didn’t have it back on, her manager might fire her. “Please, I need to fix my hair before I get to work.”

  Remy twirled the cap on his finger just out of her reach. “It would be a shame to hide such perfect hair.”

  “This isn’t funny.” Margie planted her hands on her hips.

  Remy’s eyebrow shot up in an I-dare-you-to-try-and-take-this-cap kind of way. His teasing gave her a case of the warm fuzzies, and she noticed a dimple on his right cheek. Dimples set her on fire.

  She judged the distance from the floor to the cap in Remy’s hand. He must be at least six foot four. She stuck her bottom lip out and drew her eyebrows up in the best pout pose she knew. It always worked on the men in her family.

  He shook his head and continued to twirl the cap.

  Dang, he’s immune.

  He left her no choice. She’d have to play dirty. She stepped closer to him, and he held the cap up out of her reach. She put on her loose lip pucker, placed both hands on the sides of his stomach, stretched up on her tiptoes, and whispered, “Pretty please with a…” she paused, “cherry on top.” Her lips literally popped, and she was sure she’d performed her best act yet.

  Remy’s eyes took on a glossy look, and his arm came down. Margie snagged the cap out of his hand faster than a getaway car after a bank heist.

  “Ah-ha, victory goes to Margarine Butter. Thank you. Thank you very much.” She bowed to the corners of the elevator.

  The grind of metal on metal preceded a sudden jerk of the elevator box. Margie lost her balance and careened toward Remy.

  Oh my God, I’m going to die.

  Chapter Three

  “What happened?” Margie stared up into Remy’s face. Squeezed between him and the wall, she could smell the faint aroma of cinnamon. Her heart pounded faster.

  The slant of the floor pushed Remy against her. She licked her lower lip and found herself hypnotized as he lowered his mouth. She arched her neck, ready to meet him half way.

  His mouth was gentle and malleable against hers as she explored the fullness of his bottom lip. He urged her to open, and she moaned at the touch of the velvet tongue tasting her. A fresh, cinnamon-tinted flavor pleased her senses.

  The elevator gave a jolt and settled into a new position. Margie gasped, her head disorientated from both the kiss and near-death experience. How could she lose herself in one kiss while her life was in jeopardy?

  “I think the elevator is stuck.” He didn’t let go of her.

  “Oh God, I’m going to suffocate!” She laid her hand on her chest.

  The way Remy’s chest rumbled with laughter proved he’d gone insane, and she shoved him off her.

  “I don’t find being stuck in a box that dangles by a cable the least bit funny.”

  She needed to find a way out of this death trap. The elevator was broken…she must get back to work. Shit! How did this happen?

  One minute she was delivering coffee, and the next minute she was locking lips with a stranger in an elevator—all the while risking losing her job. She needed to concentrate.

  She ignored Remy and paced the small piece of floor. The most important thing was to get back to her job. If she lost this one, she knew the only option left would be for her to return to the fold of her family.

  She glared over at Remy, who leaned against the wall without a worry or care of his own. He might turn into a bad habit if she stuck around him too long. Good thing he’d be a flash in her storm of a life.

  Out of her peripheral vision, she witnessed Remy’s shoulders once again shake with amusement.

  “It isn’t funny. I’m stuck in a box that’s hanging fifteen stories high, and I’m going to lose my job if I can’t get back to the coffee shop in time. I need to work…desperately.” She tipped the cart right side up and found her cap on the floor, smashed and unwearable.

  Her fingers worked on shaping her hat. She kept herself busy, because if she didn’t, she might fall back into Remy’s arms and explore his mouth a little more. He sure seemed to have had practice with this kissing business.

  “The light on the panel is stuck on the first floor button, so technically we aren’t dangling in the air. At the most we are only hanging about eight feet up,” Remy informed her.

  Margie stomped to the control panel of the elevator, opened the box, and snarled. The compartment that was supposed to contain an emergency phone stood empty. “Do you have a cell phone on you?”

  Remy reached in his front pocket and handed over his phone. Margie flipped it open and grimaced. No signal.

  “What am I supposed to do?” She tossed back his phone but refused to turn her head in his direction. The less she set her eyes on him, the better.

  “Someone will notice the elevator isn’t working and call the janitor.”

  She twirled her finger in her hair and took up the same pattern she’d paced earlier. Maybe the manager would pay her for a half-day’s worth of work. Probably not.

  “Are you okay?” Remy asked.

  She stopped and turned toward him, but stared at a spot over his left shoulder. “Not really. I’m thinking about what my next job will be, since I doubt if the coffee house will keep someone who can’t even make deliveries and get back to work on time.”

  “Look, I want to apologize. Again. Somehow I inevitably caused you to lose two jobs.” Remy leaned to the left.

  Margie continued to stare at the spot on the wall. She didn’t blame Remy. Bad luck followed her regardless if she lived back home with her family, or lived on her own.

  “Are you mad at me?” he asked.

  She shook her head and threw the cap on top of the cart. “No. It wasn’t your fault. These kinds of things happen to me all the time, unfortunately.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Getting fired…getting lost…finding myself in some dire predicament.” She’d learned either she laughed it off or ended up a heap of self-pity. “One time I was standing behind the one hundred thousandth winning person at an all-night sit down. The person won a vacation to Hawaii.” She paused. “Not ten minutes before the announcement of the winner, I let some person cut in line ahead of me so she could stand by her friend. I thought it would be nice if they didn’t have to talk around me, you see.”

  “Ouch.” He groaned.

  “Of course, now I can laugh about it, but I sure wanted that vacation.” Big time.

  Remy moved over a foot, and she shifted her gaze to avoid him.

  “You’re still mad at me, though.”

  “I said I wasn’t mad.” She flaunted a huge smile toward the wall.

  “Then why won’t you look at me? You’ve been staring at the wall.” He waved his arms.

  She let out a sigh and rolled her head.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you.” She adjusted her hair to cover the side of her face. “I just can’t look at you.”

  “Why?”

  “Is it really that important to know the answer?” She turned and sent up a silent wish for him to drop the subject.

  His hands landed on her shoulders, and she hung her head. She allowed Remy to turn her body around to face him. The fight melted right off her at his touch.

  “Why, Margarine Butter?”

  Why did he have to use her whole name? Not a hint of laughter in his voice. She lost the fight with herself.

  “If I look at you, I know I’ll throw myself into your arms and kiss you again.”

  “Kissing me would be a bad thing?” He brushed her hair off her forehead.

  Margie nodded.

  “Are you going to get mad if I go ahead and kiss you again?” He lowered his head. The way his voice grew husky sent waves of pleasure to all
the right places in her body.

  Margie nodded again.

  A magnetic force, powerful enough to draw out the most stubborn streak inside her, pulled her lips closer to the one thing she wanted more than anything, even more than steady employment.

  “Why, Margarine Butter?” Remy whispered.

  The spell he wound around her sparkled. The control she held on to slipped. She hooked her hand around his neck and tugged him down to capture him in a kiss. All thoughts of different ways to avoid temptation left, and she closed her eyes to experience the full pleasures of his mouth.

  “Hey! Anyone in there?” a male voice called.

  Margie jumped. Her heart thumped against her rib cage, her swollen, moist lips tingled. She’d done it again. Shit!

  “Yoo-hoo…anyone?” The person on the other side of the door pounded.

  “Yes.” Margie cleared her throat. “Yes, we’re in here. Can you get us out?”

  “Sure thing, lady. It’ll just be a couple more minutes and I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy or my name isn’t Johnny Grate.”

  “Margarine…” Remy reached for her.

  Margie shook her head. She didn’t have time for a relationship—or an afternoon fling. She must work toward her goal, and a man in her life would only send her off track. It meant too much to her to let him ruin her future.

  The elevator doors parted, and two hands appeared in the crack, pushing them wider so Margie and Remy could exit the elevator. Margie lifted the back wheels of her cart, and the rescuer picked up the front to get it clear of the doors. She must hurry and bargain her way back into the good grace of her manager.

  She pushed the cart down the hall and out the front doors, angry with herself for her brief lapse in judgment. She never should have talked to Remy. She realized she’d dug herself into a hole, and only a miracle would save her now.

  Chapter Four

  Remy arrived at Sunshine Coffee House only a few minutes after they opened their doors for business. He covered his mouth and yawned. Sleep evaded him last night, and even when he’d managed to catch some winks, his dreams evolved around Margarine.