Lewis jumped back she said, “Now put on a shirt. We’re going shopping.”
“Shopping?” he asked, holding his ear.
“You did say anything I wanted.” Scarlet walked to the bags she’d dropped at the front door when she’d arrived and bent to retrieve her backpack.
“But shopping wasn’t at all what I’d had in mind,” he mumbled.
Scarlet looked down so he wouldn’t see her smile as she unzipped the front pouch and took out the advertisements she’d printed. “I found the perfect comforter set and accessories for Jessie’s room.” She carried the pictures back to the kitchen and spread the top few out on the island counter. “I ordered them and they’re waiting for us to pick them up at Macy’s.” She looked over to him. “Of course if you hate them or they’re too expensive I can cancel the order. Or I’ll pay half. Or all if I have to. I want her room to be amazing.” The kind of room a girl would love to spend time in. A room she’d want to invite her friends over to see.
“I can afford to pay for my daughter’s bedding, thank you,” he groused, reviewing the results of the hours she’d spent on the Internet.
“I thought we could paint one wall this color.” She held up the color swatch she’d gotten from the paint store and pointed to the shade with red X. A dark, grape jelly purple. “Jessie told me you have hardwood floors throughout but this throw rug will offset the deep coloring of the wall perfectly.” She pointed to a picture of a colorfully designed rug. “I couldn’t find it in stock anywhere local, so we’ll have to order it.”
“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.
