Page 2 of Devil's Dilemma

“Whoa.” He holds up his hands. “Who said we were playing a game?”

“I do,” I say, firmly. “When a man speaks to a strange woman in a bar, it’s not to exchange views on the weather.” I might be a homebody, but I’m not naïve. “An approach out of the blue is usually taking the opportunity to flirt.”

His grin widens, and he shrugs. “What’s wrong with flirting?”

“Nothing. As long as it’s with someone the same age and in the same ballgame.”

“You saying you’re out of my league?” A frown appears.

“No,” I deny hastily, “I’m saying you’re out of mine. Why on earth would a handsome young man want to talk to an older woman like me?” I haven’t missed that we’re surrounded by many, more-suitable girls with a lot less years under their belt, pretty and airless, and who would probably love to take a ride on his bike.

“Handsome?” As he cocks an eyebrow, the grin comes back. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Whether I do or not isn’t the point. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back to my friends.”

He stares at me, his eyes softening slightly. Then his gaze goes toward our table, and his lips turn up in that devastating smile once again. “Okay, you do that. Nice to meet you, er…?”

“Melissa.” For the life of me, I don’t know why I told him.

“Melissa.” He tries it out.

Heaven help me, but my name falling from the lips of this sexy biker, almost in a reverent tone, does something to me. That session with my vibrator is definitely on the horizon when I’m by myself later, along with that fantasy that I’m twenty and nothing more than a size 0.

Knowing I need to get away before I make a fool of myself by grabbing hold of his leather vest and insisting he eases the arousal inside me by taking me outside, I stumble in the direction of where my friends are sitting.

“What was that all about?” Beth’s the one to ask, but not the only one staring wide-eyed between me and the man at the bar. “He a friend of yours?”

“I don’t know him from Adam,” I admit, my lips thinning, unable to stop my eyes returning to the man with the peculiar name. He appears to have lost all interest in me and is now deep in conversation with the bartender. Hmm. Probably ordering his next beer. Could well be a drunk as well as a biker, an overindulgence in alcohol would certainly offer an explanation for his strange behaviour. I frown, though I hadn’t noticed him unsteady in any way, it could be that I’d had a conversation with a drink and not a man. Only one inebriated would show the slightest interest in a woman like myself.

Beth grins. “I think he is now.”

“What?” I’ve lost the thread, obviously.

“A friend.” She nods at a heavily laden tray that’s being carried our way. From the concoctions upon it I can see it’s meant to be ours. Up to now we’ve all been buying our drinks on separate tabs.

“I can’t afford…” I start, as a fresh margarita is slid over the table toward me.

“Is it on the house?” Carter asks, optimistically.

I wait, hopefully for a positive but inexplicable answer, but my spirits fall when the waitress replies, “Nah, Skull sent them over.” She turns to nod at the man now watching from the bar so there can be no misunderstanding.

Beth nudges me. “Told you it was him, and he’s paid out for a full round. That doesn’t come cheap, girly. Think you must have made an impression.”

I glance around the table at the other workers from the government offices in town. Sian, she’s got Irish heritage and Celtic looks, and tonight is totally stunning wearing tight leggings and a latest fashion top. Her hair is cropped. Holly, sitting next to her, is her opposite in every way, fair complexion and blond hair which seems to glimmer in the overhead lights. Her brilliant blue eyes are sparkling as she sips her free Sex on the Beach. I remember wondering whether she really likes it when she placed her order, or just wanted to try and make the bartender blush. Beth, striking, over six-foot-tall, is still in her twenties and lacks for nothing in the looks department. Then there’s Macey and Shayla, both pretty girls.

My lips press together as I wonder whether one of them had caught his attention. That seems more fitting. Try and befriend me to get an invite to the table, yes, that would make sense. The ones I doubt he’s got much interest in are Carter and Brice—the only men here—but then, nowadays you can never be certain.

Having decided he’s got his eye firmly fixed on one of the others, I’m not that concerned when Beth turns around and beckons him over to the table.

God, even the way he walks is sexy, his swaggering gait making his slim hips move side to side. His form fitting jeans and tight tee leave little about him to the imagination and make me suspect he’s got one of those delicious Vs leading down to his forbidden parts, the type in the pictures I sometimes swoon over when they’re posted in the online groups I frequent. As he draws closer, I see he’s got a small scar, a tiny white line parting his left eyebrow, intriguing rather than ugly.

“Ladies.” He raises his glass in salute, then, lifts his chin in acknowledgement of the two men for whom he’s also purchased drinks.

Carter imperceptibly stiffens and gives him a manly chin lift back. Brice, too, does likewise while pulling his shoulders straight. It’s as though they sense they’re in the presence of a superior masculine specimen.

Holly preens, her lips forming a pout, Sian’s eyes sharpen with interest.

Beth’s also gushing when she’s the one to use her voice. “Thank you.” Her hand points quickly to the drinks, some on the table, some already in hands. “This was very generous, er…?”

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