Page 7 of Devil's Dilemma

I’m a thirty-four-year-old woman who’s never had a prime and doesn’t expect to have one. He must be a twenty-year-old with his whole life in front of him. My mind wanders back to the thoughts I’d had when I met him before; any attempt to get close to me is more likely to be the result of a bet rather than any desire to bed the curvy older woman that I am.

He’s used me to get to know one of the other girls.

Idly I wonder, which one?

Beth herself?Could be. A lot of men don’t mind a girl being taller than them.

I can’t help my eyes going to the entrance to the backyard, and my heart flutters—or part of me does anyway—as the man clad in leather despite the heat of the day comes into sight.

Oh, my God.If anything, in daylight he looks even more attractive.

He saunters in without a care, even though everyone here are virtual strangers. He pauses to survey the crowd, seeming to look for someone. As his eyes come my way, I turn my head, but not before I see a smile cross his face.

“Did you get that report finished in the end?” Ian, one of my co-workers asks me.

“What? Oh, yeah. Eventually. Getting figures out of the other departments was like getting blood out of a stone, but I got it done in the end.”

“You know,” he remarks, conversationally, “you’ll have a ton of questions to answer.”

I purse my lips looking glum. Yeah, any report prepared for the lawmakers results in hours of digging for information you know they don’t really want. But it’s the result of any committee meeting, asking for detailed follow-up data is just a way to prove they’ve read the report, and me, as the author, will be expected to provide it.

“Par for the course,” I begin to tell him, as I become aware of a large shadow falling over me.

It’s Skull. He’s made his way across to where I’m standing, having taken the chance to fill himself a plate while passing the food-laden table. It could be coincidence or deliberate, but he’s managed to snag a few of the items I brought.

“These muffins are great. Beth said you made them. Mmm mmm. Very good.” The last is barely distinguishable as he speaks through a mouthful of crumbs, then wipes the back of his hand over his lips.

Ian has exchanged a nod with Skull, and with an interested look back my way, has walked off to talk to someone else, leaving me alone with the biker.

“So, how have you been since I last saw you?” Skull is now attacking one of the pastries I made.

“Busy.” I point to his plate with a sardonic grin.

A quick grin comes to his face. “There’s a mountain of food in there. Any left over, I’ll offer to take back to the clubhouse.”

My food ending up feeding the Satan’s Devils? My eyes widen in surprise.

“What about you?” I ask, slightly sarcastically. “Been scaring kids? Robbing banks?”

He throws back his head and laughs loudly. “Yeah, something like that.” Then his face grows serious. “Seems you need some educating in what my club stands for.”

“I need no education,” I snap. “I know as much as I need to.”

His face hardens slightly, and he looks around. Beth and Patsy have a beautiful backyard. While people are milling around, most of the guests are keeping closer to the grills and the tables laden with food and drinks. There’s empty space down at the rear of the yard, including, a secluded gazebo. Skull nods that way now.

“We need to talk,” he tells me.

“I have no idea what about,” I say back, my teeth worrying my lip, uncertain whether I should give him the opportunity. But to do what? I too survey the gathering. My co-workers are here with their families, the yard is crowded with my friends. Nothing can happen to me, even if we’ll be tucked away in a corner. A shout would bring people running.

I have no idea why this young man has become focused on me, but perhaps this is the chance to find out and knock any unsavoury ideas on the head.

“Okay.” But I flinch and shake off the hand that lands on my arm possessively and take the lead instead.

At the gazebo I sit on a comfortable chair, moving the cushion slightly so it better supports my back. Instead of taking the other chair, Skull leans against one of the upright supports, one knee bent and the flat of his sole against the wood.

He grins, easily. “You don’t like me, do you?”

“I like you fine,” I counter. “I don’tknowyou, is all. And I don’t know what you are after.”

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