Biker Babe in Black (7 page)

Remembering what he did to her last night, she closed her eyelids, and sighed. Besides Remy’s to-die-for body, something in the way he looked at her made her believe she was beautiful, desirable.

An employer who ran around with his shirt off and called her Margarine without snickering… She shook her head and willed herself to keep a professional distance.

“He is my employer. He is my employer. He is my employer.” She twirled in the chair. Her knee bumped into the trashcan and spilled the contents on the floor. She bent over, picked up the crumbled papers, and the word ‘million’ caught her attention. She ironed out the wrinkles with her hands and read the paper.

A financial statement, announcing The Montgomery Corporation bought Bradford Towers for eight hundred million dollars. Margie gasped and continued to read. The statement was addressed to Remington Montgomery, CEO.
Holy-freaking-shit, he’s almost a billionaire!

She wadded up the papers and replaced them in the trash, relocked his door, and ran out to sit on the couch in the living room. Her heart pounded hard against her chest. The implications of her accidental discovery rocked her whole world. Remy was one of
those
Montgomery’s. He owned practically the whole West Coast.
I’m such an idiot to not have put two and two together.

Remy owned everything from real estate, hotels, and restaurants, to clothing lines and perfumes. Margie rubbed her temples. The whole “rich” scenario was too much to fathom. He lived a completely different lifestyle than she did. Her worries centered around keeping a roof over her head, staying employed, and doing upkeep on her motorcycle. There wasn’t a problem or worry his life that couldn’t be fixed with his bank account.

Under no circumstances must he find out whom he’d hired for a housekeeper. If he knew she came from a biker gang, he’d kick her out of the house faster than the preacher threw her dad out of a Baptist church years ago when he tried to take her to Sunday school.

She understood why other people thought certain things about folks similar to her, but not all of the reputation bikers got was true. Okay, sometimes it was, but she came from a family who protected her against most of the seedier happenings.

Margie realized Remy rubbed elbows with high society the moment she’d ran into him at the restaurant. A person didn’t look at him and not recognize he was successful. The fine line between luxurious and King Midas was a huge step, though. Hell, he owned the castle
and
the throne.

To save both of them a world of trouble, it was up to her to keep the distance. Yet, if she told him who she was and what kind of family she came from, and he still kept her for a housekeeper, it would make him more comfortable to work for.

Not willing to gamble with her employment, Margie decided to keep the information to herself. Some things must stay private, and she needed this job to get where she wanted to go in life.

Margie took the take-out bag from Remy, surprised by the way she merged into accepting his social status so easily. She expected to act differently toward him now that she knew he belonged to one of the most powerful families in the area.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a little of everything.” Remy shucked out of his suit coat and undid his tie.

Margie took the little white boxes out of the sack and placed them on the counter. She found the plates, handed one to Remy, and reminded herself to stay calm and act normal.

“How was your day?” He undid the first few buttons on his shirt.

“Fine. I got your laundry done, picked up around the house, and watched a bit of television. It makes me go a little stir crazy sitting around, so I hope you got a list made up of things you want done around here.” She wrinkled her nose.
Did I sound snippy?

“I did make up a list, but it was pretty basic so I threw it away.” He laid his coat over the back of a chair.

“Then how am I supposed to know what to do?”

“Just treat the house as if it were your own. Clean, do laundry, buy groceries, cook.” Remy spooned rice onto his plate.

Her plate clattered against the table. Margie crossed her arms and waited for Remy to look up at her.

“How exactly am I earning my money?” Her chin lifted.

“I was thinking about this at work today. There will be days where the house will pretty much take care of itself.” He put his plate on the table across from her and sat down. “Would you be interested in being my escort when I have to attend business meetings or parties in the evenings?”

Margie’s eyebrows shot straight up. “You want me to be your whore?”

Remy choked on the bite of sweet and sour pork he swallowed. He covered his mouth with his napkin and held up his hand. He took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “No. Hell no, Margarine. Couples—married couples—usually attend the dinners and parties I need to make an appearance at, and I’d like it if someone I enjoyed came with me.”

He raised his glass and took another sip. “I find myself being one of the few in attendance that are unmarried, and I was thinking if I had a woman that I could take…”

“You’re uncomfortable going by yourself?” She raised her brows.

Remy smiled. “Well, it would make it more enjoyable if you went with me.”

She understood not fitting in and standing out in a crowd. It flabbergasted her that a man of his means suffered through the same emotions, especially since he acted over-confident, dressed in the right clothes, and displayed immaculate manners.

Margie was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. She should tell him no, but the vulnerability he shared with her by admitting he often felt uncomfortable amongst his peers was something she understood and experienced every day. His confession surprised her. She would have thought a man of means would fit in anywhere

It also made her want to know the man behind the picture she found earlier. He seemed to have two different sides to him, and she wanted to know the business Remy along with the one who made her stomach flutter whenever he looked at her and had her thinking about sex every time he touched her. She glanced away before he could see the truth in her eyes. Dreaming about him in such a way would only end up disappointing her in the end.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend that you could take?” She pretended to take an interest in the chow mein noodles on her plate.

“Not at the moment.”

Horse pucky.

The man only needed to crook his finger, and any girl he wanted would come to him. She was sure that Candy down at the Seesaw would even jump at a chance for a night out with him.

“You want to know something?” He waited for her to answer.

She nodded.

“I’ve never met a woman who didn’t want me for my money or my social standing. It gets old. It would be a pleasure to take you. We know where we stand with each other. You tell it like it is, and keep me toeing the line.” He gave her a slow smile of masculine appreciation that had her glad she was holding onto the table, because her legs suddenly grew weak.

“Is this really happening? You
want
to spend time with me?” Margie sucked in her bottom lip and held it between her teeth.

“We’re employee and employer, but I hope we can also be friends.” Remy paused. “Please.”

Margie tossed her napkin on the plate, her appetite gone. She considered whether he spoke the truth or not. Did he pity her or think she was too dumb to figure out he’d manipulated her into trusting him?

He must know she wasn’t financially secure, and he couldn’t exactly call her independent when she lived in his house. She had nothing to claim as her own, except her motorcycle. She even had her mail held at a post office in Reno, and only picked it up a couple times a year as she passed through town. She didn’t belong anywhere.

She coiled a link of her hair around her finger.
Damn, this whole situation is getting mess
“Remy. I’d like to help you out but I just can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He placed his fork down and leaned back in his chair.

She definitely liked the idea of being his escort, but she also knew if she attended any parties, bad things might happen. Bad luck always showed up at the jobs she took. Ever since childhood, horrible luck followed her around. She didn’t want these negative things to happen around him. She’d die on the spot from embarrassment if she brought humiliation into Remy’s life.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Margie picked up her plate. She scraped the remaining food into the trashcan, rinsed the plate off, and set it in the dishwasher.

“Why not?”

“Don’t ask me, Remy. Just let me be your maid.” She glanced over at the table and caught him studying her. She turned away and concentrated on cleaning up the kitchen.

Remy’s chair slammed against the wall. He threw down his napkin and advanced toward Margie. “Damn it, this has gone on long enough. You are not my maid.”

He held her by the upper arms and refused to let her walk away. She let her chin fall to her chest, but he used his hand to raise her face to his. “You’re crying.”

She sniffed. “So.”

“I’m sorry. Jesus, Margarine, don’t cry, baby.” He wiped the lone tear she tried to hide.

Remy wrapped her up in his strong arms, and for a minute, she enjoyed the security his embrace gave her. If only he worked in a garage or drove a bus for a living…

“You must know I have feelings for you.” His breath tickled her ear.

“Then why did you hire me as your housekeeper? Ugh, Remy. You can’t just go buying people so they do what you want them to do. The real world doesn’t work that way. People…people have feelings, you know. I’m not one of those girls that’ll just roll over and accept any of your pretty words.” Margie pulled away from him.

He leaned back against the counter and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly. It’s the only way I could get you to spend time with me. You scare the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

She snorted. “Me? You’ve got to be kidding.”

He shook his head. “When I saw you that first night when you smacked into me at the restaurant, I thought you were lovely. Then I saw you in the parking lot, and you were brave and confident too. Hell, you smacked me with your purse, and drove away on a motorcycle, sexier than sin and left me wanting to know more about the woman who dared to be different. You were like no other woman I knew.”

“And now?” She encouraged him to continue. Despite her misgivings on how the evening was turning out, a part of her wanted to hear more. His words soothed her self-esteem.

Remy took a deep breath. His gaze searched hers. “And now I see this woman that takes my breath away. You never let anything stop you, and when something goes wrong, you pick yourself up and march on. Yet, for how independent you are, I see a side of you that’s so innocent, and I wonder how you’ve remained so carefree and happy.”

Margie had never heard a man confess his thoughts to the degree Remy had. One of the most powerful men in the country, and he chose her, Margarine Butter, to pursue.

“Oh, Remy.” She placed his hand on her heart. “I’m bad luck. I don’t want to do something that would cause you any hurt.”

Remy shook his head and frowned. She brushed her hand across his forehead to smooth the lines of frustration. “Besides, I live out of a suitcase. I would have nothing to wear to those fancy parties you talked about.” She winked and attempted to laugh, but a sob caught in her throat instead. She moved to step around him.

Remy blocked her escape and cupped her face with both his hands. “I’ll buy you everything you need. Please, Margarine Butter.”

Damn him. He did it again. He used her full name.

Margie inhaled and turned toward the table. “Just so you understand… You buying me clothes to attend the parties with you doesn’t equate to purchasing my affection.” She looked up at him. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

Remy nodded, crossing his heart with his finger.

“You’re a special man, Remy. I’m not quite sure I understand you, though. We just met each other and now—”

“Will you take a chance to get to know me?” He raised his eyebrow.

“I still want to be your housekeeper, Remy. It’s important to me that I earn my keep the right way.”

Remy lifted her chin. He brushed his lips to hers. “We’ll take this slow. Slow…and sweet.”

Margie went up in flames. Remy’s full, sensual lips had her tumbling, unable to escape the excitement shooting through her body. Her mouth opened under the demands of his and as the tip of his tongue stroked her lips, she melted.

Her head swam, her knees weakened, and with a cry of desperation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Deep down, it wasn’t her situation that had her throwing herself at him; it was the fact that he wanted her. He wanted Margarine Butter!

Margie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, frowning. Her hair curled in every direction around her and refused to stay pinned up on the back of her head. How would she ever manage to look halfway decent tonight?

The dinner party at Remy’s business associate’s house fast approached. She slammed another hair clip on the counter and stuck out her lip.
This is ridiculous!

Her hair was so long, she couldn’t even see the ends in the mirror. If she chopped off eight inches, maybe she’d be able to figure a way to make all the strands stay up without all the extra weight pulling it down. She groaned. Her hair was perfect if she wanted to go to a club or scare little children on Halloween, but not for a dinner with the rich and famous, where perfectly styled hair was the norm.

“Are you almost ready?” Remy called from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Hang on a minute. I’m still getting ready.” She clipped another section from the side of her head, and several strands sprung out of the attachment. She stomped her foot and growled. “Remy, this is useless. I can’t do it.”

“Can I come in?”