Free Biker Babe in Black by Debra Kayn

alert. Every time Remy touched her, looked at her, or spoke, she shivered with need.
    The click of the door and the invasion of noise from inside the house jolted her out of her thoughts. Margie stepped away from Remy and struggled with the sensual arousal he brought about in her body. The promise of a kiss would come tonight; Remy’s Boy Scout honor would see to that.
    The butler escorted them into a large room fit for entertaining. Caterers carried trays of shrimp appetizers and pre-dinner drinks around the room. Margie forced herself to breathe through her nose and out through her mouth to calm the butterflies in her stomach.
    Remy clasped her hand in his and guided her across the room. She held on extra tight, afraid he might abandon her. Usually, she took any situation by the horns, but tonight she wanted everything perfect.
    “Remy!” A loud masculine voice called out. Margie glimpsed at a man in the corner waving in their direction, above the heads of the other guests.
    “I need to go say hi. Just stick with me.” He gave her fingers a squeeze. “Clay can be…annoying, but I won’t let him bother you.”
    “I’ll be okay. Go, do business.” She didn’t let go of his hand. She needed to connect with him. He calmed her.
    “Remy, my man.” The man held out his hand, oblivious to the liquid that spilled over the lip of his glass and onto the floor.
    “Clay.” Remy shook the man’s hand and nodded at another gentleman. “I’d like to introduce Margarine Bu—”
    Margie pinched his arm hard enough to draw blood if not for his coat being in the way.
    “Call me Margie, please.” She flashed a smile at the men to appease her rude manners. She forgot all about letting Remy know not to call her by her whole name. Not everyone accepted it with a straight face.
    “Whoa, Remy, a new lady on your arm.” Clay lifted Margie’s hand and brought it to his lips.
    Out of her peripheral vision, Margie witnessed Remy’s jaw muscle twitch. She fought the urge to yank her hand out of the clammy grasp of this Clay person. The way he leered at her creeped her out, and she knew he wasn’t someone to trust.
    “I must say your presence here tonight makes the party brighter for all of us who are still single.” He held on to her hand too long, and she gently pulled it free.
    Margie smiled politely and stepped closer to Remy.
    “Unfortunately, all the single men will have to look elsewhere, I’m afraid. She’s taken.” Remy’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
    “Okay, okay, I hear you, bud.” Clay patted Remy’s shoulder in an old show of good male sportsmanship.
    The ding-a-ling of a bell rang. Everyone’s attention shifted to the black-tuxedoed man who announced dinner would be served. Margie strolled with Remy to the dining room.
    Six large tables arranged in an intimate fashion dominated the candlelit room. Margie sat beside Remy. The name card by her plate read “guest”. She mimicked Remy’s actions and placed the napkin on her lap, the moment ripe for weeding out the people with money versus the woman who hung out with people named Crowbar, Reefer, and Tank.
    Someone walked behind her and accidently snagged her hair as they passed. The willies traveled up Margie’s spine. She leaned forward to move her hair out of the way and glanced over her shoulder.
    A tall, sophisticated lady who could have been a runway model snuck up behind Remy. The woman’s hands came around to cover Remy’s eyes, and Margie lifted her brows.
    “I’ll give you one guess.” The woman bent down and sucked Remy’s earlobe into her mouth.
    Margie glanced away and kept her eyes downcast. Who is this creature? Moreover, who is she to Remy?
    Curiosity got the best of her, and she turned her head back around to observe the situation.
    Remy laid his napkin on the table and used his hands to remove the woman’s fingers from his eyes. Remy pushed his chair back and stood. “Gloria. I see you’re back in the States.”
    “Yes,