NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet (8 page)

“What?”

“Exactly.” He uncrossed her arms. “So I’d move in closer.” He did, brushing the front of his thigh against the front of hers, setting his lips close enough to touch the inner rim of her ear and, making sure to expel a hot rush of breath, as he said, “I forgot my phone number, could I borrow yours?”

She didn’t laugh or criticize his corny line. Instead she closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, ever so slightly, giving him better access.

Success.

He slid his hand up the nape of her neck and, keeping his voice soft and deep, said, “Or maybe I’d say something like, ‘I love that blouse.’” He ran a gentle finger down the inside of an arm hole, caressing her delicate skin as he did. “‘It’d look perfect draped over the back of the chair in my bedroom.’” Just to introduce the idea
of her getting naked in his condo. He made sure his lower lip grazed along her earlobe as he moved away.

“Wow,” she said on an exhaled breath. “You’re good.” She opened her eyes and blinked as if trying to get them back into focus. “On that admission I think I’d better be going.” Without further hesitation she turned and moved away.

“No,” he said, taking her hand, desperate to keep her close. “Please. Don’t go.” Because he didn’t want to be alone, because he liked spending time with her, because, Lord help him, he craved her with a ferocity capable of significant damage to his manly assets if he didn’t do something about it.

“I don’t know,” she said in that teasing tone of hers. “You promised to be a perfect gentleman around me.” She looked down at his hand squeezing hers. “Yet the vibe I’m getting is anything but gentlemanly.”

Perceptive.

“I promised not to kiss you again,” he clarified, pulling her back to him. “And I won’t.” He nuzzled in close to her ear and whispered, “Unless you ask me real nice.” He’d get
her
to make the first move, to beg him to touch her for real. Then she’d have no basis to be angry with him afterwards.

“Suppose I stay,” she asked. “What did you have in mind for us to do that doesn’t involve kissing?”

Caressing. Licking. Exploring. “Anything you want.”

A
NYTHING YOU WANT
.

Yikes! An open invitation like that could get a girl into trouble. Or it could satisfy the increasingly distracting yearning responsible for loss of sleep, poorly-timed bouts of daydreaming, and an on-edge/wound-too-tight feeling that Scarlet felt certain a night of stellar sex would remedy.

“
Anything
I want?”

His lips formed a sexy half-smile. “In the closet or outside of it.”

So he’d heard that comment. “We do girls night out once a month,” she explained, trying to ignore the effects his close proximity had on her body. “My friends like to share their sexual exploits over pricey cocktails. And let me tell you, I have some adventurous friends.”

“Dare I hope birds of a feather flock together?” he asked.

In her case, they did. But she wouldn’t tell
him
that. “Anyway,” she emphasized, moving along. “Out of all the places they’ve had sex, and there have been some interesting places, no one in the group has ever done it in a closet.”

“I think you should be the first,” he said in earnest.

Oh did he?

“I have three that can accommodate us,” he added.

She looked up at him. “Us? As in you and me?” She gestured back and forth between them. “As in you and the absolute last woman you should lust after because of my friendship with your daughter?”

“So you have something to talk about the next time you go out with your girlfriends.” He stared into her eyes. “It sounded like it’s been a while since you had anything…adventurous to contribute.”

Eighteen months to be exact. In her defense, they’d been very busy months involving long hours spent at the hospital, with her all female staff. And the majority of men she came in contact with were either married, in the midst of family crisis, or doctors. None of them viable boyfriend material, especially doctors, her professional colleagues, who were as preoccupied by their patients and worked the same insane amount of hours she did. A relationship would never work.

And yet she’d been entertaining some relationship-worthy thoughts about Dr. Lewis Jackson—in a closet.

“You’re a standup guy, Dr. Jackson.” She used his professional credential to remind her who she was dealing with. “Ready to stuff yourself in a closet for me and all.”

“The perfect gentleman in me is willing, able, and ready to assist you in one-upping your friends. And when we’re alone, please call me Lewis.”

“Will you respond to Lou?”

“Only if it’s preceded by ‘kiss me.’”

Not gonna happen. After experiencing the good sense eradicating power of his kiss firsthand, and dreaming of it night after night since then, if Scarlet had any hope of keeping things between them platonic, she could not invite, encourage, or in any way appear
to welcome another kiss, because if his lips made contact with hers, she would not be able to resist him. And resist him she must.

Scarlet liked Lewis, as a friend. A friend she happened to be crazy attracted to. Would a night of sex squelch that attraction or make it even more difficult to ignore? Would it lead to awkward interactions or ongoing secret hookups behind Jessie’s back? Would it remain private or would someone find out?

Would it hurt Jessie or negatively impact Scarlet’s chances of adopting Joey?

She refused to risk either.

Time to take back control.

She sidled up to Lewis, pressing her breasts to his chest, reaching up to cup the back of his neck and pull his head down so she could whisper in his ear. “I hope you were serious when you said anything,” she whispered. “What I have in mind will involve strength.” She caressed his biceps. “And patience. I don’t like to be rushed.”

“You set the pace,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. Two large hands gripped her butt and pulled her bottom half flush with his. “You’re in charge.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said quietly, keeping her mouth close to his ear. Then she puckered up and made the loudest kissing noise she could.

When 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.

“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.