The tension left her somewhat as they flirted. “Have to take the good with the bad.”
He reached for her then, drew her to his body and pressed her against him. “Well, I can tell you’ll be very, very good.”
His lips hovered above hers, so close he could capture her breath. He kissed her again, and then drew away with a groan. “I have to go.” He put a finger on her lips. Traced the outline of her mouth. Her lips felt full and puffy. Bereft. Her hands pressed against his chest, wanting to undo the buttons holding the chambray placket closed. She could probably tempt him to stay. She reached for a button. She was okay with some fast-forward.
Brad caught her fingers. “No. Not tonight. When we make love, it will change everything. And we can’t go back from it. And trust me, it will take all night. I’m going to put you on your back and have my wicked way with you until all you can do is make those delightful little noises from how good it is.”
She quivered. Wanted that now. Instead, he leaned down and branded her with a kiss on the cheek. “If you need me, text. If not, I’ll catch up with you sometime on Tuesday. I’ll try to call. Stay out of trouble until then.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll lock up. You can stay up here.”
“Okay,” she parroted, and less than a minute later she heard the security system arm itself. She went into her bathroom and readied for sleep. Then she tossed on a large T-shirt and climbed into bed. The light from the streetlamp cast a glow around the edges of the heavy curtains. She’d wanted him. He made her hot and needy. And look how good he’d been with Colleen tonight. He was the full paradoxical package of steamy sex and reliable responsibility.
But he was right. Making love would change things. He’d used the word relationship. Oh, she’d wondered if she’d ever find Mr. Right a second time. Liked the idea, but wasn’t actively looking. She wanted to experience adult passion and desire—all those things she’d missed out on by marrying so young.
Heck, her first sexual experience had been in the backseat of Todd’s car. Her next a quickie in his bed one Saturday afternoon when his parents had been out. Sure, sex had gotten better, but she wanted her body to sing as if it was a finely tuned instrument played under master tutelage. Brad clearly knew his way around a woman’s body. She wanted him to show her what she’d been missing all these years.
If that meant she had to agree to his terms, then for now she was more than willing. He had four days off starting on Tuesday. She planned on taking advantage of all of those.
* * *
Despite Scarlett’s best intentions to spend time with Brad, her mother had other ideas. Tuesday, Scarlett went to the YMCA and signed Colleen up for a variety of classes and activities, including Mommy’s Day Out. Wednesday her mother had her at the church, helping prepare the homemade side items for the fish fry. That meant Scarlett found herself with the delightful job of peeling endless bags of potatoes, all of which would become potato salad once cooked. Colleen didn’t mind—she ran around and played with kids her age. Most kids were with their grandmothers, so that didn’t help Scarlett meet anyone her age. Thursday, she was back at church, baking and icing cake. Then there was the job of cutting the cake into individual portions, putting it on the china plates, and wrapping the iced slices with plastic wrap to keep everything fresh. Not only was there cake, but pie covered in meringue. She cut and wrapped it all. “This is almost like having a full-time job,” she told her mother.
“And you were worried you’d be sitting at home,” her mom replied. “I told you I’d keep you busy. Tomorrow you can take a break during the day. Just be here no later than three thirty. We open at four and we’ll have a line by five. Unless you want to also be here Friday morning to bread the fish?”
“I’ll pass,” Scarlett said. “I’ve really got some things I want to do.”
Like seeing Brad. They’d spoken briefly on the phone and swapped a few texts, but she hadn’t been in the same room with him, which was why at nine a.m. Friday, Scarlett was waiting on pins and needles on her couch when she heard the alarm beep and Brad make his way up the back stairs. She rose quickly. “Hey, can I help?” she called.
“Are you actually here today?” he asked as he reached the landing.
She met him on the stairs. “Amazingly enough, yes. I escaped my mom’s plans to bread fish.”
He grinned. “And you swapped that for painting?”
“Yes. I don’t want to be up to my elbows in fish stuff. Besides, I said I would and I wanted to see you.”
“Me too, and you know I’d love your help.”
“I’ll let Colleen know where I’ll be and meet you up there.”
A few minutes later, Scarlett gasped as she entered the front room, the one Brad was making into a playroom. “I really should be checking your work every day. I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made.” Already the ceiling was painted white. The built-ins were white, and the walls a perfect shade of pale pink.
“Thanks.” Brad wore a pair of carpenter whites and a tight white T-shirt, both covered with white and pink paint splatters. The splotches only heightened his appeal. Muscles bulged as he poured pink paint into a tray. “This is the last coat. I noticed Colleen liked pink. Wanted this room to be perfect for her.”
“This is going to be beautiful. She’s going to love it.” What he’d done touched her.
“I’ve got furniture on order from Pottery Barn, including a big area rug and a table and chairs from their kids catalog and a small modular seating unit from their teen catalog.”
Scarlett stared at him. “Brad, this is too much. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.” He handed her a two-inch angled brush, fingers touching as he transferred it into her hand. “I need you to cut in so I can roll the paint on.”
He’d taped off the baseboards with green frog tape and she bent down and began to paint a strip. “There’s a stool over there. Can you reach the top of the wall?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
He’d covered the wood floor with drop cloths, which was good because occasionally pink paint dripped off her brush. He’d given her a red Solo cup filled with paint, making the process easier as she moved along. Behind her, she heard the smushing sound of the paint roller as it covered the walls.
“So tell me more about you,” Scarlett said, squatting to work her way into a corner.
“Like what?”
She glanced over her shoulder. He was rolling up close to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I know you like the Beatles and biographies. What’s something people don’t know about you?”
Brad groaned. Biceps bulged as he reached the pole toward the ceiling and rolled it up and down. “Great. Start with a hard one.”
“Okay, well, try this. How did you learn how to do all this work?”
“Helping a buddy out. Most firefighters have a side job. I’m not musical, but I am good with my hands.” Up and down. Back and forth. He moved in perfect rhythm as he painted, his hands clasped around the extension pole, proving he was definitely good with his hands. Who knew painting could be so sexy? He dipped the roller in the pan. Returned to the wall.
“Also my dad taught me,” Brad continued. “He and my mom rehabbed my childhood home on Flora while I was growing up and my brothers and I helped. Have you been there?”
“Once. Prom. Remember? We met at your house. You took Sylvia something or other. Your parents hosted us for appetizers and photos.”
“Oh yeah. I’d forgotten we were there. Haven’t looked at those photos in years. I think my parents still have them somewhere. And it was Sylvia Smith. She went to Nerinx.”
“I remember she didn’t know any of us. And she was all over you.”
Brad grinned. “Yeah. Well…” He broke eye contact and dipped the roller into the tray. “Can’t help that.”
“Were you avoiding me then?”
“Yes. She was a nice distraction. I knew Todd was going to ask you to marry hi
m.” He returned to painting, changing subjects before she could question him further. “But anyway, I’m the youngest, so I had to learn fast so I didn’t get left out. My family’s a bit hands-off in the affection department, so working together was our bonding time.”
“Oh. No wonder why dinner with my family was so different.”
“Not that my childhood was bad,” he added quickly with a shake of his head. “My dad brewed beer for AB. Union guy all the way. But he’s quiet and unassuming. Our house was his piece of paradise, a gift to my mom who stayed home and raised four kids. We were her full-time job. By prom, the house was done and my dad took up fishing instead. He bought a small cabin out on the upper Meramec River out by Sullivan. Fixed that up. Figures they may retire out there someday, although I kind of doubt it because they like the city too much. It’s pretty out there, though. A good escape.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Once the weather gets warmer I’ll take you out there if you’d like. The water is crystal clear and there’re some sandy beaches. Onondoga Cave also has tours. So does Meramec Caverns. We can call and find out if Colleen’s old enough.” He rolled more color on. “Just a thought. Colleen’s part of the deal in getting to know you. She’s an awesome kid.”
His thoughtfulness touched her, just as it had when he’d sent the bear along with the flowers. “Thanks, it sounds like a great outing once the weather gets nicer. She’ll love it.”
“Caves are the same temperature all year around.”
“I did not know that. Well, I learned something new today. Oh, and I need more paint.”
“Bring the cup here.”
As she handed him the red cup, the pink paint she’d dripped down the side covered his fingertips. “Oh, I can’t believe I did that. Sorry!”
He wiped the paint on his white pants. “No big deal.” He filled her cup back up. “Let’s get this finished.”
About an hour later they were finished painting. Colleen had checked on them, oohed and ahhed over the pink color, made a few swipes on the wall with a brush, and then gone back downstairs again as her toys were much more entertaining. “Looks great,” Scarlett said, putting her cup down on the drop cloth. She faced him, paintbrush dangling. “What?”
“You have paint on your nose.”
She instinctively reached up and rubbed her nose. Pink paint now coated her fingers.
“Here. Let me. Brad took the edge of his shirt and lifted. His torso exposed, he stepped into her space. Used the hem to wipe off the paint. “It’s latex. It comes right off.”
He rubbed again. Dropped his shirt and put two forefingers in his mouth. Licked them, and then rubbed her nose again. Grabbed his shirt and wiped again. “All gone.”
She stared at him wide eyed, her mouth slightly open. Never had a gesture been so innocent, yet so intimate. “Th-th-thanks.”
He winked at her, the edges of his lips curling up into a slight smile. “No problem.” He crooked a finger and lifted her chin until her jaw closed. Chuckled. “There you go. Don’t want you catching flies.”
She sputtered. “I can’t believe you did that!”
His brown eyes twinkled. “You had paint on your nose. Had to help out.”
“You know exactly what I meant.” Her hand realized it held a paintbrush. Realized she couldn’t let him win this round. “Maybe you should clean this next.”
Her arm arched and she swiped the paintbrush along his jawline. “Oh, now it’s my turn to say I don’t believe you did that,” Brad said. He wasn’t angry. More amused than disbelieving. Mischievous. His grin widened as he palmed his face, coming away with a handful of paint. He promptly wiped it across her cheek.
“Hey!” she shouted.
“Look, that mouth of yours is open again.”
“You…” She flicked the paintbrush, flinging pink droplets over his white shirt.
“Uh-oh. Now you’ve done it. You forget, I was a SEAL. Can’t go down without a fight.” He captured her hand before she could fling more paint. Ran his free hand over the paint on her cheek and wiped it down her neck.
In turn, she released her fingers, sending the brush to the cloth below as she smeared more paint on him, until the other side of his face was pink as well. “Bring it on. Unless you want to call a truce. I’d say we’re even.”
He used a finger and painted the dip between her collarbones. “Maybe now we are.”
She made another swipe. Laughed. “Not even close.” Reached up to swipe again. He grabbed her wrist.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he warned.
She liked playing with fire. “Yeah, right. I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.” He stripped the T-shirt off. Revealed his sculpted chest. She wiggled her fingers, trying to reach him. “Oh, believe me. You’ll pay.”
She laughed. Got loose and reached down for the paintbrush. But he grabbed her by the waist. Pulled her toward him and spun her around. “Ooh, now I’m scared,” she teased. “Got me. What you gonna do next?”
“This,” Brad said, bringing his lips down on hers. Perhaps it was static buildup, but an electric shock powered through her the moment his mouth found hers. She heated. Desire shot to her toes, the painting game forgotten. Instead mouths molded together. Fused. He slid his arms farther around her waist, pressed her up against him. His hands slid lower, cupped her bottom. Her hands slid around his neck, fingertips caressing the bare skin of his broad shoulders.
Her tongue slid along his lips, made him open for her so she could explore. She wanted to taste him, to drink him in until she had her fill. Although with a kiss like this, you could never get enough. It swept you away, for as passionate as the kiss was, there was also an underlying tenderness. This softness washed over Scarlett. Took her to that parallel universe where you believed anything was possible. A kiss that didn’t scream “let’s have sex,” but instead was a destination in itself.
She could feel his erection. His desire matched the ache between her legs. He broke off the kiss, sent his lips down the side of her neck that wasn’t painted pink. Blazed a trail, for she’d never wanted anyone more. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched.
“Mommy?”
Like a bucket of cold water descending, hearing her name had Scarlett pulling back, turning away as reality intruded. She could hear footsteps. “Mommy? I’m hungry.” Colleen appeared in the doorway. She frowned. Pointed. “Why do you have paint all over?”
“We spilled some,” Scarlett lied. Behind her, Brad yanked his shirt back on and began to clean up the mess they’d made.
“I’m done playing,” Colleen announced.
“I’ll make you some lunch.” She turned back to Brad. Mouthed the word, “Sorry.”
“I’ve got this,” he told her, waving her onward. “Go.”
“Can I make you some lunch too?” she asked. He’d already put his back to her.
“Sure,” he called over his shoulders. “Let me clean this up and I’ll be down.”
“Okay.” She guided Colleen down to the kitchen.
“What were you doing?” Colleen asked as they went to the kitchen.
“Painting.”
“You’re wearing a lot.” Colleen pointed to the spots all over her mom’s shirt. “You always tell me to be careful. Why weren’t you careful?”
Because Brad is the sexiest man alive and I wanted to feel every inch of him.
“Did you like the color? Brad is making you a pink playroom. How about spaghetti for lunch?”
“I like pink. And spaghetti.”
“Go get a box of noodles while I clean up.”
Scarlett went to the half bath and shook her head as she saw herself in the mirror. Her lips were puffy from being kissed. Her face and neck were covered in paint. She ran warm water and scrubbed her face. The latex paint peeled off, and after using a little soap, her arms were also clean. When she stepped out into the kitchen, Colleen had retrieved a box of spaghetti noodles and a jar of sauce. “Ready, Mommy.”
“Good girl for waiting,” Scarlett complimented. She retrieved a four-quart saucepan, filled it with water and set it on the stove she’d finally mastered. By the time Brad came downstairs, a meatless sauce was simmering and the noodles were ready.
“We made spaghetti,” Colleen told him. “And I helped.”
“You did, huh? You’re turning into a great helper.” He’d cleaned up, including washing away all the paint. She could tell where it’d been, for his skin was still red in those areas.
By the end of the meal, Colleen wore a ring of spaghetti sauce around her mouth.
“Very good,” he told them as he put his empty plate in the dishwasher, but Scarlett noticed the smile he gave them didn’t create those little crinkles around his eyes.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” Brad told her, “but I’ve got to run. I’ll see you later at the fish fry.”
“Okay,” Scarlett said. She watched him go. Frowned.
“You okay, Mommy?” her observant daughter asked. “Your happy face is upside down.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just have all these dishes to do.”
“I’ll help. Brad said I’m a good helper.”
“And you are, so let’s get started.” Afterward, Scarlett decided, she was marching across the backyard to find out exactly what was going on.
* * *
After leaving Scarlett’s, Brad unlocked the door to his garage studio. Went inside. Closed the door and leaned against it. Laced his fingers atop his head and bent it toward his chest. Stayed there for a minute or two before changing shirts. He wasn’t surprised to hear a knock a bit later.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded after he let her in.
He’d been eating spaghetti. Colleen had it smeared all over her face. Scarlett had been laughing. The food had become cardboard in his mouth. Tasted like sandpaper. The entire scene had been one of domestic tranquility. Normality. Like they were parents who’d sneaked off for sex while the kids were oblivious.
And that normalcy had scared him more than any war zone ever had. Scared him more than taking on Somali pirates. How could a four-year-old with a face full of food bring a man to his knees? But she had.
Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) Page 11
