LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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