Contract with Consequences

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A WORRIED Janet King jumped to answer the phone as soon as it rang, relief flooding through her when she saw it was her daughter’s mobile number on the display. She’d always hated flying and had been tense all afternoon at the salon, especially when the estimated time of arrival of Scarlet’s flight had come and gone without a call. She’d been glad to come home where she didn’t have to make polite conversation and where she could show her agitation by grumbling at the news reader on the television. Her nerve-endings were still strung out as she swept the receiver up to her ear.

‘Hi, Mum,’ Scarlet said before she could utter a word. ‘You can relax now. The plane didn’t crash and I’m safely at the hotel.’

‘I wish you’d rung me from the airport,’ Janet said plaintively. ‘I’ve been worried sick.’ The words were barely out of her mouth when she regretted them. She hated mothers who talked like that to their adult children. It put them in a terrible position.

Scarlet smothered a sigh. ‘Sorry. I thought I’d wait till I got to the hotel so that I could tell you about it.’

‘I’m the one who’s sorry, darling. You’ve gone up there for a rest and here I am, putting guilt trips on you already. I promise not to keep on being a pain. Or to expect you to ring me all the time. But, yes, I would like to know about the hotel. Is your room nice?’

Scarlet moved over to sit on one of the huge black leather sofas, amazed at how soft and comfortable it was. ‘Very,’ she said as she leant back into its squashy depths. ‘Has all the mod cons and a view of the harbour.’

‘You never did tell me how much you paid for it.’

Scarlet winced at the lies she’d told, both directly and by omission. She hadn’t realised how awkward things could become. ‘Actually, I didn’t just book a room, Mum. It’s an apartment.’

‘Goodness! It’s not like you to be so extravagant, Scarlet, except perhaps when it comes to clothes. Not that I’m complaining, mind. You deserve some spoiling after all you’ve been through.’

It was ironic that, right at that moment, John came into the living room carrying a frosted glass of white wine which he handed to Scarlet, who mouthed, “Thank you,” before lifting the glass to her lips. She had a feeling she was going to need a drink or two before this night was out.

‘You’ll have to send me some photos of the place,’ her mother added.

Scarlet took a sip of the deliciously chilled wine whilst wondering how she could avoid doing that. Perhaps she could just send photos of the view, the guest bedroom, half the main bathroom and about a quarter of the humungous kitchen. But not right now.

‘Can I leave that till tomorrow morning, Mum? I’m pretty bushed tonight. I just want to have a shower and go straight to bed.’

‘Without eating anything?’

‘I won’t starve, Mum. There’s a small stock of essentials in the kitchen,’ she said truthfully. John had shown her the floor-to-ceiling pantry. ‘It’s lovely. There’s even a complimentary bottle of very good white wine in the fridge.’ She raised her glass in a toast-like gesture to John who’d settled himself on the sofa adjacent to hers. He smiled back whilst stretching his long arms along the back of the sofa, looking ridiculously sexy.

A distracting thought. It reminded her of an explicit image she’d briefly entertained last week. It was difficult for her mind not to dwell on her fantasy, when she would soon become extremely intimate with the real thing.

Though not tonight…

Was she really relieved about that?

Scarlet could not deny that, whilst she was still nervous about going to bed with John, she no longer felt afraid of it. Perversely, she was almost looking forward to it. A man who kissed as well and as imaginatively as he did would surely be a good lover. Gosh, he really did have a great body.

When she felt in danger of ogling him again, Scarlet reefed her eyes away and focused firmly on her conversation with her mother.

‘So how did you cope today without me?’ she asked.

‘Fine. Though none of the other girls are a patch on you when it comes to colour. I suspect a few of your clients will wait till you come back before getting theirs done again. Still, you’ll only be gone ten days. It’s not an eternity. I’m sure they’ll survive.’

‘I’m sure they will. I’d better go now, Mum. I keep on yawning. I’ll give you a call again tomorrow night.’

‘I’d like that. You can tell me what you’ve been up to all day.’

Scarlet swallowed, then glanced over at John. Would he want to make love in the morning, in broad daylight? Or would he wait till tomorrow night?

‘I… er… I doubt I’ll be doing too much tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I might just walk around the city and get my bearings. Do a little shopping for food. I don’t fancy going out to restaurants on my own so I’ll probably cook.’

‘Sounds nice. Night night, darling. Love you.’

‘Love you too, Mum. Bye.’ After she hung up, Scarlet took a deep swallow of the wine before glancing over at John.

‘Mothers!’ she said with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

‘They mean well,’ he replied.

‘But?’ Scarlet prompted with a wry little smile. ‘I’m sure I heard a but in there somewhere,’ she added, echoing the words he’d used earlier.

His smile carried amusement. ‘I think you’re the witty one here, Scarlet, not me. But, no, no buts. Mothers will be mothers, no matter how old their children get. You just have to learn how to circumnavigate their tendency to cling and control without their knowing how much you hate it.’

‘But I don’t hate it,’ she said. ‘Not the way you do. I think of my mother’s concern for me as caring, not clinging and controlling.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not all mothers are equal. Yours, I have to admit, is especially nice.’

‘So is yours.’

‘True. But mine is married to my father.’

Scarlet tipped her head slightly to one side as she searched his face. ‘I’ve always wanted to ask you why you hate your father so much. I mean… I know he’s not the happiest of souls but he’s still your father.’

‘Please don’t go down that road, Scarlet.’

‘What road?’

‘The third degree road.’

‘I was just curious about the relationship between you and your father. I have no intention of asking you a whole heap of questions about your life.’

‘Good. Because I have no intention of answering them,’ he growled as he crossed his arms in a belligerent fashion.

Scarlet added ‘defensive’ and ‘secretive’ to John’s list of personality flaws, along with arrogant and rude.

‘Charming,’ she muttered.

‘No. I’m actually not at all charming,’ he admitted drily. ‘I’m exactly what you called me earlier-introverted and antisocial.’

Scarlet’s blood pressure began to rise. ‘For pity’s sake, let’s not go down that road, either!’

‘And what road is that, might I ask?’ he snapped.

‘The back-to-the-future childish road, where we fight all the time and end up spoiling what I came up here for. Trust me when I say I no longer wish to know the ins and out of your life story. I know I originally said I did but I’ve changed my mind on that score. I don’t give a damn where you’ve been all these years, what you’ve done or who you’ve slept with, safely or otherwise. I also don’t give a damn how bloody rich you are. All I care about is whether this works and we can actually make a baby!‘

She was still glaring at him several seconds later when the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of his tightly pressed lips. Before long he was smiling broadly at her.

‘You always were good at tongue lashings.’

Scarlet refused to smile back at him. She was still way too angry. Instead, she took another gulp of wine. When it went straight to her head, she realised she really needed to eat something. And soon.

As if on cue, the buzzer to the apartment’s security system went off, indicating that someone required entry to the building. Hopefully, it was someone delivering the Thai food.

‘Saved by the bell,’ John quipped and stood up. ‘That should be dinner,’ he said as he walked to the front door where he flipped a switch on the wall console and asked who it was.

‘Dinner delivery for John Mitchell.’

‘I’ll come down and get it.’

Scarlet sat and worried a little about the future while he was downstairs, then decided she had to stop thinking. She drained her glass, then went out to the kitchen where she refilled from the opened wine bottle she found in the fridge door and returned to sit, sipping in silence, as she waited for John’s return.

He arrived with some delicious-smelling containers.

‘Let’s go eat this in the kitchen. Unless of course you want me to set the dining table?’ he added.

‘I don’t think we have time for that,’ Scarlet said when she stood up and the room spun round. ‘If I don’t eat something in the next five minutes, I’m going to become seriously tipsy.’

‘On one glass of wine?’

‘I refilled whilst you were downstairs.’

‘You drunkard, you!’

‘Stop mocking me and go serve up that food!’

‘Can you make it to the kitchen on your own or do you want me to carry you?’

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘I think I can make it that far alone.’

‘What a shame. I’ve always wanted to sweep you up into my arms.’

‘You liar, you!’

He sighed melodramatically. ‘Oh, Scarlet, whatever am I going to do with you?’

‘Hopefully, you’re going to feed me.’