Along Came Merrie (22 page)
“Either you’re stupid or you have a death wish, woman.”
“Neither, and my name is Sandra. What’s yours?”
He leaned in.
I could smell his breath—coffee and mint and perhaps a hint of tobacco.
“You don’t need to know.”
“I’m thinking…” I said, stepping away then walking up to his machine. “That you need
me
and that’s why you’re here.”
“I want the guy in charge and a guy mechanic. This ain’t no job for a woman.”
Oh, God, he really is another one of them!
I reached out and slid my fingertip over the curve of his handlebars.
A biker to my left coughed and caught my attention.
I eyed him up. He had a scarf over his face too—military camouflage—and what looked like ski goggles held it in place.
He shook his head, just slightly.
He was warning me not to touching the bike.
I didn’t heed the warning. I couldn’t resist. Something deep down and primal in me had to feel it.
I slipped my touch from the central groove right out to the end of the handlebar. The cool metal and the smoothness of it thrilled me.
“Oh, fuck,” muttered the guy with the camouflage scarf.
There were a few intakes of breath around me.
A low growling sound reverberated next to my shoulder. It was boss man grunting.
“Beautiful beast,” I said.
“Get. Off. Her,” he said, reaching out and wrapping his hand around my wrist. He yanked my arm upwards so it was lodged next to his chest. “No one touches without permission.”
His fingers were huge and his grip tight. My heart rate rocketed as I thought about what damage those tattooed hands could do to me, or, alternatively, how they’d feel doing fabulous things to me.
Get a grip, Sandra. He’s trouble.
I swallowed—my throat was suddenly dry. “So what’s her illness? Why are you here on my forecourt? I thought you guys did your own repairs.”
How the hell had I managed to speak without my voice trembling? I must be on a suicide mission tonight or something.
“Us guys?” he said. “What do you think we are?”
“Hell’s Angels,” I said, glancing around. “Aren’t you?”
“Oh no.” He tugged me.
I staggered nearer to him and my breasts pushed up against his knuckles. “You’re not?” I asked, darts of awareness shooting through my body. Even through my overalls I could feel the heat of his hand, the rigidity of bone beneath flesh.
“No,” he said. “We’re
Wild
Angels, so much more deadly.”
The guy with the camouflage snorted and there were a couple of “yeahs” around the group.
“Well, deadly or not,” I said, tugging my arm but not managing to get it free, “it seems you need something I have, so maybe it’s time to play nice.”
“Darlin’,” he said, leaning forward and putting his lips by my temple.
His breath heated my skin and sent a tickle of sensation over my scalp and down the nape of my neck.
I stared at the stubble on his throat, how it arced over the jutting point of his Adam’s apple then disappeared into his collar.
“I don’t ever play nice,” he murmured, “but that don’t mean to say the ladies don’t enjoy it when I’m bad.”
I hitched in a breath. Jesus, he was too damn cool for his own good. Too fucking presumptuous by a long shot. But maybe he had a right to presume. I’d been on my own for a long time, not even bothering with one-night stands for the last year, and he was a bad boy—the type of bad boy that pushed my buttons every damn time, even when I tried to resist.
“Well, since you’ve already stated you don’t want a lady,” I said, twisting, “I don’t see what you want me to do with that information.”
He studied me, his eyes black vats of sin. “You can do with it whatever the hell you want,” he said, the right side of his mouth twitching into a half smile and creasing the scar on his cheek. “But right now, we gotta get my baby sorted.”
About the Author
I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate high rollers. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love.
I’ve been pretty fortunate in life to experience some amazing things. I’ve lived in France, traveled throughout Europe, Australia and New Zealand. I am a mom to an amazing little boy. I’m surrounded by friends and family. And although I love holding a book in my hand, I absolutely adore my e-reader, which I’ve named Ruby. I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web.
Email:
[email protected]
Beth loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
.
Totally Bound Publishing
