Page 2 of Jagger
Good God, he was gorgeous. Absolutely, positively, panty-meltingly gorgeous. Dark brown hair, longer on the top than on the sides, what I guessed was perpetually tanned skin, and a dusting of dark brown scruff covering a sharp jawline I’d like to lick, with deep brown eyes the color of my favorite chocolate. I’d hoped I wasn’t drooling, but between the smell of the food in this place and the chiseled perfection in front of me, I wouldn’t have bet on it.
“Yeah, babe, it is. Why, do you like bikes?” He’d shot me a smirk, as if he were well aware of my train of thought. I was sure he had women flinging themselves at him day and night. Too bad I wasn’t the type to fling myself anywhere.
“Well, it is a beautiful machine. It’s also in the process of being ticketed.” I had pointed toward the large plate glass window, through which the female parking enforcement officer could clearly be seen at the rear of his motorcycle.
“Ah, fucking hell!” he’d muttered, rolling his eyes, and jumping to his feet. I’d stepped aside so I wouldn’t be trampled as he hauled butt toward the door. A mighty fine butt it was, too. Those well-worn jeans he was wearing fit him in all the right places, and every woman in the place was thanking God and the Levi Strauss Company for creating such a thing of beauty.
I’d heard him begging the officer to just let him move his bike as the door closed behind him and I had snickered to myself as I took my seat in the booth. I had a prime view out the window and snorted as I saw the officer smile shyly and look at the ground, before looking back up at him and nodding. He had taken a step closer and said something that made her laugh, then she’d tucked her hair back behind her ear in the universal sign of flirtatious women everywhere.
He had flashed her a grin and walked her back to her patrol car, gallantly opening the door for her and giving her one more self-satisfied grin as she slid into the driver’s seat. He then closed the door, gave her a quick wave, and hustled over to mount his motorcycle, or bike as he’d called it. I had heard the muted roar of the tail pipes as he started it, then lost sight of him as he drove around the side of the building.
Oh well, there was my good deed for the day, and I got a little eye-candy with it. Not a bad deal, really. I was distracted at that point by the server stopping at my table. I’d glanced at the menu, ordered the bacon-cheeseburger and fries that I’d been craving, along with my beloved Diet Pepsi. I had given myself a mental high-five for resisting the urge to glance at the dessert portion of the menu.
“I’ll have that right out for you, hon,” she’d said, tucking her notepad back into the pocket of her apron. I pulled my Kindle out of my purse and opened it, toggling the switch on the side to wake up the device. I was in the middle of a book that my mother referred to as “spicy” but, let’s be honest, it was pretty much smut, mommy porn, or erotica, take your pick. I was dying to find out if the Irish mobster was as domineering in bed as he was out of it. The sweet virginal heroine in the book wanted to know, too.
The bell over the front door had jingled again, and I’d glanced over to see Hot Biker – yes, that was officially his name now - walking back in. The server had laughed as she called out to ask him if he was able to sweet-talk his way out of a ticket again this time.
“What can I say, babe? The officer was in a forgiving mood today,” he’d said with a laugh and a wink in her direction. “Is my order about ready?”
“Should be up any second now. Grab a seat and I’ll check on it.”
He had started toward the stool he had just vacated, then stopped, and looked around the room. He’d spotted me tucked in my corner booth and headed my way.
“Thanks for the heads up, babe. I appreciate it,” he’d said to me in a low, rumbly voice as he came to a stop next to my table. I’d looked up at him and tried not to drool again.
“No problem. I’m glad it worked out for you,” I had said with a small smile, before turning my attention back to my Kindle. I’d assumed he was walking away, and I was determined not to join every other woman in the place who would be staring at his yummy backside.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I heard him ask and looked up to see him staring down at me intently.
“No,” I’d said slowly, unsure why he was asking.
“Do you mind some company?” he had asked, sliding into the other side of the booth without waiting for my reply.
I had snorted at his brazen smile. “No, by all means, please join me.” I’d made a sweeping gesture toward the bench seat he was now occupying, rolling my eyes as he’d shot me a wink. Hot Biker was a cocky son-of-a-biscuit, wasn’t he? Of course, if I looked like sex on a stick, I’d be cocky, too, I supposed.
“Thank you, Angel, don’t mind if I do,” he’d said, trying to hide his laugh at my exasperated sigh. I wasn’t sure what his game was, but I’d known he was playing one. Guys like him did not look twice at women who looked like me. I was the girl-next-door type who wore cardigans and sundresses, he was Trouble with a capital T, leather and stubble and Good God, look at his arms. The way his biceps stretched the sleeves on his white T-shirt should be illegal, and the veins and light dusting of hair on those tanned forearms? Major arm porn, especially with the tattoo I could see peeking out from under the edge of his sleeve. The black design was some sort of leaf or flower, maybe? I couldn’t see much of his chest under the leather vest he wore, but his shoulders were broad and nicely muscled, not overly so, though. He looked like he had a leaner build, like a swimmer maybe, rather than a muscle-bound gym rat.
His hands were big, strong, and lightly callused, with nails neatly clipped I was happy to see. I couldn’t stand to see guys with nails bitten down to the quick.
“ – your name is, or should I just keep calling you Angel?” His voice had interrupted my perusal of his oh-so-fine form.
“Um, I’m sorry, what was that?” I’d asked, trying not to look like the idiot I was sure he thought I was. I had pushed my Kindle to the side of the table as I turned my attention back to him.
He’d flashed me a grin, as though he knew exactly why I hadn’t been listening. “I said, are you going to tell me what your name is, or should I just keep calling you Angel?”
I’d arched a brow at that. “WhyAngel? You seem partial to calling women ‘babe’ from what I’ve heard so far.”
He had just flashed me a grin, not at all repentant at being called out like that. “You saved me from a parking ticket, so I figure you’re my guardian angel. Then there’s the fact that you kinda look like an angel. It just fits.”
I couldn’t help the rather unladylike snort that escaped me, and my eyes had rolled so far back in my head that I’d thought I got a quick glimpse of the inside of my skull. His brows had risen in surprise. I’d just bet he was used to women swooning at his feet with smooth lines like that.
Too bad for him, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d swooned over anyone or anything. Probably back in high school, when Scott Baxter had asked me to the Homecoming dance while reading the morning announcements over the school’s PA system. He was in the communications club and had gotten detention from the teacher in charge of the club for that little stunt. He’d also gotten that date with me – and a couple of months later, my virginity - so he’d declared it worth the detention. We’d dated for the rest of our senior year and all that summer, before going our separate ways to college. I’d been sad, but not especially broken-hearted. Scott was now a reporter for one of the local TV news stations, and I always smiled when I saw him on TV. I was happy for him - he’d achieved his goal, and I’d even heard he was newly engaged.
I was saved from answering by the return of the server, who had a tray with a carryout box and two drinks. She had handed me the Diet Pepsi and handed the box and the other drink to Hot Biker, who’d thanked her and then proceeded to set the box on the table and open it, revealing the same bacon cheeseburger that I’d ordered, although he had onion rings with his.
“Changed my mind,” he had said to her with a smile. “I think I’ll eat here today.”
She’d glanced at me curiously, then looked back at him and nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. I’ll bring another glass of sweet tea for you if you need it. Let me know if you need anything else.” Turning to me, she’d told me that my food was almost ready, and she would be right back with it. Giving us both one last look, she had turned and headed back toward the kitchen area.
