“Stop,” he said. “The rug is fine, but there will be no purple wall. Not in my condo.”
His bland, shades of cream condo. “That’s your problem, Lewis,” she said, prepared for this battle. “You can’t think of it as a wall in your home. You need to think of it as a wall in Jessie’s bedroom. A wall with personality. A wall with posters of her favorite bands.” Scarlet hurried over to one of the bags and pulled out the three posters and the lavender and purple picture board she’d purchased. “It won’t be a wall of solid purple. We can put the bed on that wall. And hang these. See?” she pointed to the accent colors on the posters and picture board. “Shades of purple. Purple is her favorite color, did you know that?” Scarlet couldn’t remember ever being so excited about a decorating project. “She’s going to love it.”
Lewis scooped up her papers. “You’ve put a lot of time into this,” he noted.
And she’d enjoyed every minute of it. “Growing up I promised myself if I was ever lucky enough to have a daughter, I’d do a better job than my mother did with me.” She shrugged. “Not that Jessie is my daughter or anything. But so far she’s the closest I’ve come to the real thing.” Hopefully that would change soon.
“Let me guess,” Lewis said. “Boring bedroom.”
“Beautiful bedroom.” She emphasized the beautiful. “Very high-end. Designer everything. In floral prints and pastel colors I hated. A showroom that had to be maintained as such on the off chance one of mom’s snooty friends happened by to take a peek. No shoes on the carpet. No eating on the bed. No pens or markers. No makeup. No pictures or posters or anything to reflect my style and taste.” A fictional set in which she served as a decorative prop to add to the illusion of the happy, successful, fairytale family.
“I like the comforter set,” he said, studying one of the advertisements. “And I’m fine with the posters and even the rug.” He looked at her. “Jessie can do whatever she wants in her room,” he hesitated, “within reason, of course. But there will be no purple wall.”
“When I asked about her ideal bedroom, Jessie specifically said it’d have a purple wall. It’s what she wants.” What would make her feel settled and in her own space. And Scarlet was going to see that she got it.
“It’s important for children to know they can’t always get what they want.”
“Considering her mother is dead and she was forced to leave the only home she’d ever known and all of her friends to live with a man she’d never met and attend a school she hates, I think Jessie has already learned that lesson,” Scarlet pointed out.
“She hates her school?” he asked, looking truly puzzled.
“When she talks, don’t be so quick to dismiss what she says as complaining or being difficult. Listen to her. She has some valid grievances.”
Lewis opened his mouth to say something but Scarlet held up her finger to stop him. “You can discuss them with her when she gets home, after you present her fabulously funky new bedroom with the bright purple wall that will show her, and leave no doubt, that you have given her a permanent space of her very own.”
“She’ll have her very own bedroom with her very own door. She doesn’t need a purple wall.”
Stubborn. But so was Scarlet. “I am not giving up on this,” she said. It was too important. “What do you want?”
“What do you mean what do I want?”
“What do I have to do to get you to agree to the purple wall?”
That got his attention. His lips curved into a slow, sexy, seductive smile. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You’ll give me whatever I want to get me to agree to let you paint a wall in Jessie’s room purple?”
“I didn’t say whatever you want, you pervert,” she clarified, instantly regretting her impulsive statement. “Like I would actually sleep with you to get you to agree to a paint color. Is that how the women you prefer get you to do what they want? By offering you sex? Paint the wall. Don’t paint the wall. Your call. I’ve done what you asked me to do. You have pictures, store names and confirmation numbers on the advertisements. My work here is done.” She turned toward the door.
“A kiss,” he called out.
She stopped.
“On the lips. With tongue.”
And Jessie would get her purple wall. Scarlet turned to face him. “You honestly expect me to compromise my principles and use my body as a bargaining tool.”
He stood there so cocky and confident, attractive, alluring… “Only your mouth.”
Seemed a minor deed for a major victory that would mean so much to Jessie. “No other physical contact.”
He pulled out a stool and sat down. Then he leaned back, rested his elbows on the island counter behind him and spread his thighs. “I will be a perfect gentleman.”
She walked toward him. “For the record, a perfect gentleman wouldn’t coerce a woman into kissing him.”
He smiled. “Okay, maybe not a perfect gentleman, how about a close-to-perfect gentleman?”
She eyed his naked chest, which was close to perfect indeed. Smooth and muscled with minimal hair. “Maybe you should put on a shirt first,” she suggested, because she’d been the one to specify no other physical contact during their kiss, and it would be the ultimate humiliation if she broke her own rule. And her hands wanted to feel him so bad she had some serious concern as to whether she’d be able to stop them. Her palms started to tingle in anticipation. So did her lips.
“Time’s running out,” he said.
“You have got to be kidding me. I can’t believe—”
“Five. Four.”
Counting. He was actually counting.
“Three.”
She would not be rushed, would not allow herself to be forced into kissing him without some serious mental girding. “Stop.”
“Two.”
Then again, what harm could a teeny tiny kiss do? She stepped between his thighs.
“One.”
She set her lips to his, a gentle touch. He kept his lips relaxed, so full and warm with a hint of mint. And something else, something decadent and desirable, something she wanted more of. She shifted to get a better taste. He opened for her and Scarlet accepted his invitation, sliding her tongue into his mouth—only because it’d been one of his stipulations and not at all because she wanted to.
She moved in closer and, oops, had to steady herself by placing her hands on his warm, smooth, firm chest. Yum!
More. Her body erupted in a blaze of yearning.
She deepened the kiss, pressed her body to his, and noticed her fingers had found their way into his hair, which was probably a better place for them than option B—unbuttoning her blouse so she could feel his skin against hers.
Her nipples ached for attention. Her long-neglected sex throbbed with need.
Lewis sat completely still, keeping his hands to himself, being a close-to-perfect gentleman. While Scarlet’s rational self lobbed idle threats at her aroused self for even considering sliding out of her jeans, straddling his crotch, and rubbing until she found release. So close.
“Do it,” he whispered against her mouth, as if he could read her mind. “Or tell me what you want. Anything.”
Damn him.
So in control, the entire time.
Scarlet gathered every bit of mental and physical strength still at her command. It wasn’t much, but it turned out to be enough to push away. Breathing heavy she glanced in his direction. Instead of the cocky expression she expected, he looked as dazed as she felt. Instead of loose limbed confidence he had his hands clamped on the counter behind him with a white-knuckled grip. So he wasn’t as in control as he appeared. Good. “There,” she said, wiping her mouth, turning away, hoping to hide how much his kiss had affected her. “Now that that’s done, let’s go buy some paint.”
Let’s go buy some paint? The only place Lewis wanted to go was to bed to finish what Scarlet had started, to feel the wet heat between her legs, to taste her, there. To arouse her to the point she’d
agree to anything. Everything. To indulge in her passion, to indulge his passion.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “We had a deal.”
“A deal that included no other physical contact.” Maybe he hadn’t minded at the time, it feeling so amazingly good to have her hands on him and all, but he sure minded now, all worked up with no relief in his immediate future. He stood and adjusted his pants to make some much needed room in the groin area.
Scarlet actually blushed. “Sorry about that. I may have gotten a little carried away,” she admitted.
Unfortunately, not carried away enough.
Next time. There would most certainly be a next time. And soon, or he’d burst.
In an attempt to distract himself from his body’s demands, he picked up the pile of pictures she’d brought with her and sifted through the ones he hadn’t yet looked at, amazed at the amount of time she’d obviously put into the task of creating the perfect teenage escape for his daughter. More than bedding and matching accessories, she’d researched page after page of jewelry display thingies, shelves, fancy hooks, and even some contraption called a Bubble Chair that hung from the ceiling.
A lighted makeup mirror. He let that one fall to the counter. Jessie was too young to wear makeup.
A purple lap desk. A funky silver floor lamp. A back-of-the-door mirror.
All in addition to the time she’d spent shopping for posters of Jessie’s favorite bands and picking out paint swatches.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d changed his mind about her helping him after she’d already put in so much effort. And since the main reason for his change of mind was so they wouldn’t be alone together, and here they were, alone together, he may as well accept all she was willing to offer.
Whoa.
He came to a picture of a crib and changing table set. He moved on to the next page, a baby bath, and the next, an infant car seat, followed by an ad for huge pink butterfly wall decals. He held them up to her. “I’m thinking these were intended for someone else?”
Scarlet hurried over and grabbed them from his hand. “They’re mine.”
So defensive. “Why are you carrying around pictures of baby items?” Please say because you’re helping a friend. Please don’t be one of those baby-obsessed women who yammer on about their nonsensical biological clock.
“We’re wasting time.” She carefully folded the papers in half and shoved them into her backpack. “Go get dressed. The paint store closes at seven.”
Lewis looked at the clock on the microwave. Five thirty-seven. How long could it possibly take her to answer one simple question?
“I can go myself,” she threatened, picking up her pocketbook and reaching for the door knob.
“Hold on,” he said. “Give me a minute.” He turned and headed toward his bedroom. But this conversation was not over.
At ten o’clock that night Lewis and Scarlet finally returned to his condo. Lewis dropped the cumbersome bags of bedding and miscellaneous girlie junk he’d carried for what seemed like miles as they’d trudged through at least a dozen stores.
“Having the paint and painting supplies delivered was a good call,” he told Scarlet, looking at where the doorman had neatly arranged the items to the side of his entry way.
She carefully unloaded their more delicate purchases, which she’d insisted on carrying. “I can’t believe we got all the shopping done in one night.” She pushed some flyaway hairs away from her flushed face.
They’d done more shopping in four hours than Lewis typically did in a month. Heck, in three months. He should be cranky and exhausted and looking forward to pouring a beer then pouring himself into his recliner. And yet he felt energized. Scarlet’s enthusiasm for her task, her determination to find the exact item she sought, and her excitement when she did, made every minute of their expedition fun.
So what if she was trying to re-create the bedroom of her teenage dreams. Jessie was one lucky girl to be on the receiving end of all Scarlet’s creative ideas and planning.
She covered her mouth and yawned. “Sorry,” she said. “I was up at six.”
Lewis remembered that while he’d moped around in his bathrobe, missing Jessie, bemoaning the loss of the man he was pre-fatherhood, trying to envision his future—a vision Scarlet kept popping up in, she’d put in a full shift at work.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked.
“That’d be great.” She took out her cell phone, walked across his living room, and with her back to him, made a call.
“Hey,” she said to someone on the other end of the call. “Can you pick me up at the bus stop later tonight?”
Lewis set the filter in the coffeemaker and measured out enough coffee for four cups.
“No. Thanks anyway. Have fun,” she said.
“Problem?” he asked.
“I live six blocks from my bus stop,” she said absent-mindedly as she scrolled through information on her phone. “It’s bad enough I have to navigate Penn Station and ride the bus back to Jersey with the Friday night drunks. I’d rather not have to walk home, alone, in the dark with one of them following me.”
She shuddered as if it’d happened before. The thought of Scarlet, hurrying home, in fear, with some intoxicated miscreant in pursuit set off a surge of protectiveness he’d only ever felt for Jessie.
“How did you plan to get home after girls’ night out?” he asked.
She looked up from her phone. “I sleep at my friend’s apartment downtown, so I don’t have to make the trek home late at night.”
“If you’d already planned to stay in the city, you can stay here,” he blurted out.
She gave him the ‘yeah right’ look. “Nice try.” She pressed the screen on her phone, lifted it to her ear, and turned her back to him, again.
Lewis added water, replaced the carafe, and flipped on the coffeemaker.
Scarlet spoke into her phone. “Hey. It’s about a quarter after ten on Friday night. If you get this message in the next few minutes and can give me a ride home from the bus stop tonight, call me back.”
Lewis waited for her to end the call and said, “You’re being silly. I think I’ve proven myself a close-to-perfect gentleman. You can sleep in Jessie’s room. I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed,” he held up his right hand, “I give you my word—”
“Stop with the raising the right hand bit,” she said. “I thought we talked about that.”
“A carryover from Boy Scouts,” he admitted. Then, keeping his right hand raised he bent his pinky, held it in place with his thumb to make the scout sign, and recited the oath. “On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; To help other people at all times; To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.”
She smiled and nodded. “Very impressive.”
Standing at full attention he added, “On my honor I will not step one foot on the stairway leading up to the loft while you’re up there.” He decided it best to keep the ‘unless you invite me up’ part to himself.
She seemed to mull it over. “Then we could prep for painting tonight and get started first thing tomorrow.”
“Exactly.” Although not his first choice of things to do during their time alone together, that’d work. “I’ve still got stuff I need to move out of there.” Luckily he’d spent part of his afternoon, sorting junk, boxing up his books and journals, and removing the artwork and pictures from the walls.
“I can help with that,” she offered.
So far today she’d cancelled plans with her friends to come check on him, only let him treat her to a slice of pizza and a bottle of water for dinner, carried almost as many bags as he had, without one complaint, and now she was offering to help him move boxes and furniture. “Except for your good looks and fantastic figure,” which he took a moment to peruse, “you are not at all like the women I used to date.”
She gave him a big smile. “Thank you. I’ll ta
ke that as a compliment.”
He’d meant it as one.
“I like my coffee light with one teaspoon of sugar if you have it.” She walked to the kitchen. While he poured she said, “If I stay over tonight, and that’s still a big if, I need to know you won’t tell anyone at work. Or Jessie. Especially Jessie. I don’t want anyone to think…”
“There’s something going on between us,” he finished for her as he placed her mug of coffee within reach.
She pulled out a stool and sat down. “Yeah.”
Most women loved to brag about dating him. But he was fast learning Scarlet was not most women.
He held up the scout’s sign again and said, “Scout’s honor.”
She smiled. “How long were you in the Boy Scouts?”
“Through Eagle Scout,” he said. The highest, most prestigious level.
“That’s quite an accomplishment.”
Yes it was.
“But you don’t seem the camping, outdoorsy type.”
He wasn’t, but his father had made Eagle Scout, and Boy Scouts had been the one father son activity his dad had made time for. “I grew up in Northern Westchester. I didn’t migrate down to the city until I got accepted at NYU.”
She blew on her coffee then took a sip.
With the brief lapse in conversation that followed, Lewis took the opportunity to fulfill his promise to Jessie. “When I spoke to Jessie earlier, she made it clear that if something should happen to me, she’d much rather go to live with you than with my sister. I told her you’re not family and it’s not your responsibility to take her in. I don’t expect you to say yes, so don’t feel in any way pressured. But she made me promise to ask you if you’d be willing, so I’m asking.” He leaned back against the counter and lifted his coffee mug. There. He’d done what he’d promised to do. Now he waited for the backlash. He took a sip. How dare he put Scarlet in such a difficult position? How dare he expect her to take on the role of parent to a child who wasn’t hers? How dare he set her up to be a bad person by saying no when Lewis, Jessie’s father, should have been the one to tell her no when she’d first mentioned the idea.
NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet Page 9
