MC Romance: Ride of Their Lives (BBW, Military Romance, Alpha Male) (Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance Book 1)

Free MC Romance: Ride of Their Lives (BBW, Military Romance, Alpha Male) (Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance Book 1) by Raina Wilde

Book: MC Romance: Ride of Their Lives (BBW, Military Romance, Alpha Male) (Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance Book 1) by Raina Wilde Read Free Book Online
Authors: Raina Wilde
Jenna began.
    “Don’t bother taking your car, you’ll never find parking. I called a driver who should be waiting for you downstairs any moment. He will drive around until the plane lands and pick you both up outside the main entrance. I put it on the company account.  Also,” Lena grabbed a travel mug of coffee from her desk, “you’ll need this. Two crèmes, two sugars. Make sure you stop on Lakeshore before you take him to the hotel. He’ll enjoy the city more if he sees the water first.”
    Before Lena could continue Jenna had enveloped her in a massive hug.
    “What would I do without you?” Jenna released her friend.
    Lena gave Jenna a soft pat on her backside as she pushed her towards the elevators.
    “Go get ‘em tiger.” She waved. “You make him rue the day he ever thought he could do this without you!”
    The elevator doors clicked shut and Jenna felt a smile spread slowly across her face. With Lena at her side, Jenna knew she could handle anything that Alex Rockwell could throw their way.
     
    An hour later Jenna watched through the large glass windows as the plane eased into its assigned gate. For an instant she felt a slight flutter of nervousness. Sliding her hands down her skirt to ensure that each pleat was properly positioned, Jenna took a deep breath and felt her heart settle into a gentle cadence. She refreshed her lipstick and shouldered an oversized designer day bag that was efficiently stocked with anything that she might need at a moment's notice.
    As the passengers began to disembark from the airliner, Jenna held up an elegant cardboard sign with her client’s name printed in large black letters over the white surface. She chuckled to herself as she imagined what Alex might think when he saw it. Clearly, he was aware that she was his agent, having requested her services specifically, but there was also no chance of him having trouble recognizing her. Other than a more sophisticated, and expensive, wardrobe Jenna looked much the same as she had five years ago. OK, so maybe her face was slightly thinner from the ten pounds she had slaved to lose after the holidays last year but that was not enough for anyone, except maybe Lena, to notice.
    The sign, she thought, was more of a statement of their arrangement. This was how she would have greeted any client that she had never met before, and Alex would not receive special liberties because they had once been acquainted. More than acquainted if she was being perfectly honest.
    As she allowed herself one more self-indulgent giggle, Jenna witness Alex crossing the lobby with a small carry-on tucked under his arm. He made a beeline for her position at the window while cocking a remarkably sexy half-grin that used to make Jenna weak at the knees. Today, it annoyed her.
    She had expected him to pause in front of her for a greeting and therefore had not been prepared for him to reach out and pull the sign from her hand and place it dramatically in the waste bin a few feet away. Before she had time to recover Alex had sauntered back, grabbed her shoulders and planted a resolute kiss on her cheek.
    She had meant to be grateful that he had not kissed her mouth. However, her brain was misbehaving and all she seemed to recognize was the fact that he smelled absolutely delicious. Whatever cologne he was wearing was something that she had never encountered before. It was spicy and exotic in a way that the old Axe-spray-Alex had never been before.
    Luckily, she recovered before he pulled away so she was fairly certain that he had not been privy to her thoughts gone astray.
    Jenna placed her hands firmly on his chest, and pushed. She forced herself not to think about any muscles her hands may have felt through his cashmere sweater. What kind of fighter dressed this well? Wasn’t he supposed to be wearing athletic shorts and a cut off T-shirt?
    “Mr. Rockwell.” She proffered a hand to shake. “It’s good to see you. If you’ll follow me to the car we

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