Jessie hadn’t said more than a handful of words—all of them monosyllabic—to him since they’d left the hospital, even after he’d insisted they eat their takeout grilled chicken Caesar salads together in the kitchen for a change. What an uncomfortable meal that’d been. Jessie, staring down at her plate, moving the chicken around with her fork. Lewis, trying to engage her in conversation, to offer reassurance about her trip to Lake George, to find out more about her relationship with Scarlet Miller, and, for the hundredth time, to gain some insight into the functioning of the pre-pubescent female mind. A booby-trapped labyrinth of erratic and illogical thought processes he could not seem to navigate through, despite successful completion of several child psychology classes and licensure as a pediatrician.
After nine arduous months of trying, and failing his daughter at every crisis, Lewis gave in to the cold, hard fact: He could not do it alone.
And yet again, an image of Scarlet Miller popped into his head. A pretty yet unfriendly woman and a skilled professional, who, he’d found out on further inquiry, received high praise and much respect from her peers and upper management. But at the moment, all that mattered to him was her relationship with his daughter.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the slip of paper he’d stashed there earlier, and glanced at his watch. A few minutes after eleven o’clock.
It was too late to call, but his need to talk to her, to get answers and beg for her assistance overrode common phone etiquette. After hours and hours spent considering his options, Lewis had come to the conclusion Scarlet Miller was his key to deciphering Jessie’s passive-aggressive behavior and learning her secrets, to understanding her and starting a productive dialogue between them, so he could help her, so he could, please God, find something about her to love.
Lewis picked up his phone and dialed.
After a few rings a groggy female voice answered, “Hello?”
Great, he’d woke her up. And the last thing he wanted to do was anger his best hope for achieving a healthy, positive relationship with his daughter. He cleared his throat. “Hi. It’s Lewis.”
“I’m sorry. You have the wrong number.”
“Wait. Is this Scarlet Miller?” he rushed to ask before she disconnected the call, and before it registered that if she hung up, she’d never know he was the inconsiderate louse who’d woken her. Well...unless she had caller ID. Then he’d no doubt come off looking even worse.
“Yes,” she answered.
“It’s me. Lewis Jackson. Jessie’s dad.”
“Is she okay?” Scarlet sounded instantly awake. “Did something happen?”
Lewis liked and appreciated her concern for his daughter. “No, she’s fine. Upstairs asleep.” At least as far as he knew. And since he’d learned the hard way never to assume Jessie was where she was supposed to be, Lewis walked to the doorway, poked his head into the hallway to confirm it was indeed eavesdropper-free, then closed and locked his bedroom door, just in case it didn’t stay that way.
“How did you get this number?” Scarlet asked. “I’m sure I didn’t give it to you. And I doubt Jessie would have shared it.”
Okay, time for some fast talking. “I just happened to come across the card you’d given to Jessie,” after searching for it in her backpack and pocketbook while she was in the shower—bad, reprehensible father—”while checking her plethora of pockets before putting her pants in the wash,” he lied. “I took it as a sign I should call you.”
Silence.
“Hello?” he asked.
She let out a decidedly feminine, sultry sounding moan which made him question, “Am I interrupting something?”
“No.” She did it again. “I don’t typically talk on the phone when I’m in bed. I’m trying to find a comfortable position.”
And just like that, with the mere mention she was in bed, without-sex-for-nine-long-months-brain overtook concerned-father-brain with an enticing visual of her luscious body. A comfortable position came to mind. Scarlet spread out on top of satin sheets. Naked. Waiting.
His sex-starved body went hard.
“Soooo, you called me,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
A loaded question if ever there was one. Because right this instant he wanted her to talk dirty, to touch herself and tell him all about it, to describe her aroused nipples and slick... Lord help him. Prolonged abstinence had effectively eradicated his ability to engage in casual nighttime conversation with a woman. From bedroom to bedroom. And if he took a few small steps, from bed to bed. And from out of nowhere, the idea of phone sex popped into his head.
“Hello. Everything okay over there?”
Totally disgusted with himself, Lewis rubbed his hand over his face and let out a breath. “A bad day followed by a bad night combined with a non-existent sex life since my daughter came to live with me and I am conjuring up totally inappropriate visuals of you, a woman I have known for less than twenty-four hours, at the simple mention of you getting comfortable in bed. In my defense, you were making some very sexy noises a moment ago, so I hold you partly responsible. But I assure you, when I picked up the phone to make this call my intentions were purely G-rated.”
“And now what are they?” she teased.
“Let’s just say, the next time you see me you owe me a slap across the face, because I totally deserve it.”
Turned out she had a sexy laugh, too.
He shifted in the recliner to relieve some of the pressure in his pants. Not good. Scarlet Miller was not the woman to slake his lust. He needed her to fix things between him and Jessie and would not risk anything interfering with his top priority. “Please accept my sincerest apologies.”
“Accepted, but not necessary,” she said. “For the record, you could pass for sexy on the phone, too.”
“You are not helping.”
“Do you want to know what I’m wearing?” she taunted him.
“Absolutely not,” he lied.
“I could—”
“Stop it.”
“Fine,” she said. “But you started it.”
“And I’m going to finish it.” Only because someone had to. “I called to talk about Jessie. To try to sweet talk you into sharing some more helpful hints on improving communication between us, because the direct approach is not working.”
“Too bad. That’s the closest I’ve ever come to having phone sex.”
Did he detect a hint of disappointment? “Oddly enough, me, too,” he admitted. And why did he feel so comfortable sharing that tidbit with a woman he hardly knew?
“You know you’re putting me in a tough spot,” Scarlet said, her voice serious. “I can’t betray things Jessie has told me in confidence. She really needs a friend to talk to, and right now I’m it. It took me a long time to get her to open up.”
He wanted to ask how she’d managed that, but decided to start with, “Would you at least tell me how you met?”
She took so long to answer Lewis had started to worry she wouldn’t.
“That I can do.” It sounded like she repositioned herself in bed. Again. “I work late on Tuesdays and Thursdays to spend some time with my night staff. So I take