“Good thing we’re leaving on Sunday.”
Sophie thought of Liz Tucker and nodded, and then she thought of Phin, smiling at her with heat in his eyes, fixing everything she had that was broken and then making her laugh while he licked almond oil off her in bed.
“Yeah, good thing,” she said.
After lunch, an irate Zane went back to Cincinnati and the news, and Amy took Rachel and Clea off to film the driving-into-Temptation footage, and Sophie went out to the kitchen with the dog to work. But once she was alone, all she could think of was Phin. She was pathetic, that’s what she was. He certainly wasn’t mooning over her. When she’d told him that night in the kitchen that she was staying another week, he hadn’t even said, “Good.” You’d have thought he could have at least given her a “Good.”
Well, that was men for you. She glared at the cherries across from her. Took what they wanted and then—
It occurred to her that this thought wasn’t getting her anywhere. It was the same thought she’d been having for fifteen years without any insight or growth, it was the thought that had led her into two years of mind-numbing security with Brandon, it was the thought that had kept her from having the kind of wickedly abandoned sex she’d been having since she’d met Phin. It was, in short, nonproductive.
Worse than that, it was boring.
“I’m through with you,” she said to the cherries. “It’s a brand-new day.”
When Phin showed up at five-thirty, he found her teetering on an old ladder, wrapped in apple wallpaper, sticky from the paste and sweaty from the heat and frustrated because the old paper kept tearing.
“You’ve never looked better,” he said as she shoved a paste-matted curl out of her eye. “What are you doing?”
“Hanging wallpaper,” Sophie said waspishly.
He reached up and peeled a torn strip off her sleeve. “It’s supposed to go on the wall.”
“You know that ‘frosty’ part you were talking about yesterday?”
“Get off the ladder, Julie Ann,” Phin said. “I’m good at this, too.”
“Of course you are, you do everything well,” Sophie said, feeling surly as she climbed down.
“My mother has a house with fourteen rooms,” Phin said. “And one summer she decided to paper twelve of them. My dad called it the Summer from Hell. You know, I don’t mean to be critical—”
“Then don’t be.”
“—but that is ugly paper.”
“You can go now.”
He smiled at her and her pulse kicked up even though she didn’t want it to.
“I can’t go.” He picked up the paper. “You want to wallpaper, we’ll wallpaper. Then we’ll do what I want to do.”
Sophie tried to ignore the heat his voice flared in her. “You have to be kidding. I’m hot and sweaty and sticky and I look like hell and—”
“I know,” Phin said. “I don’t care. Get out of the way so I can hang this wallpaper.”
Sophie put her hands on her hips. “Listen, if you think I’m—”
She stopped because he’d put the wallpaper down and was trapping her against the wall, one hand on each side of her head, his face close to hers. He started to say something and then he closed his eyes and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Sophie said, but she already knew. She looked awful and he was laughing at her, and she didn’t need this from him, she didn’t need it from anybody but certainly not from—
“Me,” he said. “Christ. I met you six days ago and you’ve got me so crazy, I’ll hang wallpaper so I can touch you.”
Sophie blinked. “What?”
“What do you want, Sophie?” he asked, smiling down at her. “Fuses, books, wallpaper, flowers, candy, diamonds—whatever it is, you get it, just as long as I get you.”
She was pretty sure he was kidding, but not completely, not with that look in his eye and that heat in his voice.
“Six days,” he said and shook his head. “Hell, one day. One minute. One look at that mouth. The devil’s candy.” He bent his head to kiss her and she ducked under his arm and away from him as she began to realize he was serious.
“Let me get this straight,” she said, as she put the corner of the table between them. “You want me.”
“In every way possible,” Phin said, moving around the table to get to her, and she moved just as he did, beginning to smile as he came after her.
“You can’t resist me,” Sophie said.
“Not since I saw that mouth,” Phin said, following her. “Come here.”
“I had you at ‘hello,’ ” Sophie said, still moving back, and Phin stopped and said, “What?”
“I love this,” Sophie said, beaming at him. “I look like hell and you’re chasing me around the kitchen. This is great.”
“I am not chasing,” Phin said.
Sophie undid the top button on her blouse.
“I’m chasing,” Phin said, and moved faster than she’d planned on. She’d made a dash for the stairs but he lunged for her, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her off her feet to drag her back against him. She lost her breath because he’d knocked it out of her, and then he turned and trapped her against the table and pushed against her with his hips and she knew exactly how much he wanted her. “We’ll do the wallpaper later,” he said in her ear as his hands moved to her breasts. She tried to squirm away and he whispered, “Oh, Christ, Sophie,” and slid his hand under her shirt, pulsing against her from behind, and she closed her eyes because he felt so good.
“We should go upstairs,” she said breathlessly, as he buried his face in her neck, making the nerve there go wild.
“Here,” he said, and she felt his hand slide down her stomach to her zipper. “Right here, against the table, I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
She shivered and said, “Don’t talk dirty,” and he laughed low and said, “I could feel you get hotter when I said it. You are so bent, Sophie.”
He slid down her zipper and she said, “No, I am not,” and tilted her hips into his hand, and then as his fingers went into her shorts and between her thighs, she put her hands on the table and pushed back against him, taking the sharp intake of his breath for the tribute that it was.
Then she lifted her head to tell him how good he felt and looked through the screen door into Stephen Garvey’s eyes.
“No!” she said, and tried to get away from Phin, but he said, “Yes,” into her neck and pushed back, sliding his fingers lower, and when she twisted to get away, he held her tighter, which would have been erotic as hell if Stephen hadn’t just put ice water in her veins. “Stephen!” she said, and Phin said, “What?” and stopped long enough for Sophie to gasp, “Back door,” as she tried to turn away and pull her blouse back together.
Through it all, Stephen stood there with his mouth open.
Phin didn’t let go, although he did take his hand out of her shorts and swing them both around so she was shielded behind him. “Stephen, we’re busy here,” he said over his shoulder. “What the hell do you want?”
Stephen straightened, still looking confused. “I came to see Rachel, and I certainly didn’t expect—”
“Well, we didn’t expect you, either,” Phin said. Sophie tried to move away again, and he tightened his grip on her. “Rachel’s not here. Go away.”
“I was wrong. This is exactly what I would have expected from you,” Stephen said, and left.
“I think that was an insult.” Phin slid his hand into her shorts again. “Although this is what I would have expected from me, too.”
“Oh, no,” Sophie said, and twisted away, and Phin said, “Oh, yes,” and caught her again.
“Trust me, Stephen just killed any interest I have in discovery fantasies,” Sophie said. “There’s a shower upstairs. With a showerhead that Amy says is illegal in most Southern states.” Phin stopped fighting her and she pulled him toward the stairs. “Imagine the possibilities.”
“I want you to know,” he said as h
e followed her, “that once I get laid, I’ll be back in control here.”
“Think so?” Sophie turned and kissed him, licking into his mouth and making him shudder under her hands.
“For at least fifteen minutes,” he said against her mouth.
“Then I’ll need to fuck you again.”
She shivered, and he laughed and said, “You are so easy.”
“So are you,” she said, and he said, “And there’s our problem right there. We’re both crazed until this wears off.”
Sophie straightened. “ ‘Wears off’?”
“This stuff never lasts.” Phin pushed her toward the stairs. “We’ll be sane again someday, so let’s enjoy it while we’ve got it.”
“Been here before, have you?” Sophie said, feeling cranky because she hadn’t.
“Actually, no,” Phin said. “Not like this. Get a move on, will you?”
“You have to say that,” Sophie said, starting up the stairs. “ ‘No, Sophie, nobody else has ever been like you.’ ” She picked up speed because she was mad and because she still wanted him, and he hooked his fingers in the back of her shorts and pulled her down a step against him.
“Not like you,” he said in her ear. “Which is why you scare me. But I keep coming after you anyway.”
She leaned back against him and said, “I would like to be memorable, if that’s possible.”
“Try ‘unforgettable,’ ” Phin said. “And no, I did not have to say that. Now, can I please have you?”
“Yes,” Sophie said. “You can have anything you want.”
Two hours later, Phin kissed Sophie good-bye in front of Amy, who was frowning at the kitchen wall, newly papered in apples.
“I’ve got to go,” he told Sophie. “I’m late to meet another woman.”
“That’s a joke, right?” she said, and he said, “Nope.”
“ ‘You men are all alike,’ ” she told him, deciding to believe it was a joke. “ ‘Seven or eight quick ones and you’re off with the boys.’ ”
“What are you talking about?” he said, and Amy said, “Movie quote. You must know that one.”
“I don’t watch movies,” Phin said. “I’m an intellectual.” He kissed Sophie again and said, “Calm down. Stop quoting.” Then he left before she could think of something cutting to say, like, You remind me of your mother.
“So exactly what were you doing in the bathroom?” Amy said.
“Exactly what you thought we were doing,” Sophie said, still trying to assure herself the other woman was a joke. “Remind me to thank Wes for that showerhead. Oh, and Phin swears the mildew on the shower curtain was watching us and we should get a new one.”
“Did you mention his mother had tried to run you out of town?”
“No.” Sophie sat down at the table and opened her PowerBook again. “Although she’ll no doubt be buying a bigger rail to do it on tomorrow. Stephen Garvey caught us in the kitchen.”
“How bad?” Amy said.
“Oh, bad,” Sophie said, and then smiled in spite of herself. “And really, really good.”
“Sophie, you’re not getting serious about the mayor, are you?” Amy said. “Because that would be bad. He’s not going to love you the way you deserve—”
“Nope,” Sophie said, but she felt a chill even as she said it. “Not serious at all. I have it on good authority that this will wear off.”
“Okay,” Amy said. “Uh, well, then. In other news . . .”
Sophie tensed. “What?”
“We’re getting some company tomorrow,” Amy said. “Zane appears to have lit a fire under Clea and she called L.A. and that Leo guy is coming out here to see what we’re doing.”
“Leo Kingsley,” Sophie said, her instincts breaking through her satisfaction. That was the problem with great sex. It dulled your survival tools. “Davy’s old boss, the producer.”
“Right.”
Sophie considered it. “I don’t see how this could be trouble.” But it will be.
“I don’t, either,” Amy said and they looked at each other doubtfully.
“Let’s assume it’s not until something goes wrong,” Sophie said.
“Good.” Amy turned back to the wall, not looking cheered at all. “Now, explain why ugly apples are better than ugly cherries, and all my questions will be answered.”
Chapter Eight
“This is excellent,” Dillie said that night at the bookstore as she and Phin stretched the new mattress pad across the bed. “Except that you were an hour late getting me, so I should stay up an extra hour even though it is a school night.”
“Works for me,” Phin said, knowing she’d be out like a light five minutes after her bedtime anyway. “We’ll read in bed that extra hour.” He snapped the bottom sheet across the bed and Dillie caught her end of it. “So what’s new with you?”
“Jamie Barclay is in my room at school.” Dillie tucked the elastic corner under the mattress like a pro. “Grandma fixed it for me.”
“Grandma’s not supposed to do that,” Phin said. “No special favors for Tuckers.”
“Dad,” Dillie said. “This is my life.”
“Right.” He flipped the top sheet across and she caught that, too.
“And besides, Jamie Barclay is new and needs a friend so it’s really for her.” Dillie smoothed her side of the sheet down. “Do you have new friends?” She said it with such elaborate disinterest that Phin stopped.
“There are some people visiting in town,” he said cautiously.
“The movie people?” Dillie smoothed the already smooth sheet, her chin in the air to show how unconcerned she was.
Phin picked up the quilt and shook it out before he flipped it across the bed. “What do you want to know, Dill?”
Dillie caught her side of the quilt and pulled it straight. “I just think it’s nice that you have new friends.”
She sounded so much like the way Liz talked to her, Phin laughed. “Thank you.”
“Are they nice?”
He tugged the quilt smooth over the bed where he’d poured almond oil on Sophie and thought of her, hot and round and slippery in his arms. And then that afternoon in the shower—
It seemed wrong to have those thoughts with Dillie in the room, so he shoved the memory away. “They’re very nice. Okay, this is your night. We have hot dogs, we have paper napkins, we have dessert, and it’s not a weekend. What else?”
Dillie shot a look at the armoire across the room. “TV?”
“What is this, Go-to-Hell Night?” Phin picked up a pillow and tossed it to her and she caught it.
“Jamie Barclay watches TV,” Dillie said. “All the time, not just for special things.” She plumped the pillow and put it at the head of the bed. “She watches it with her mom.” She looked at Phin out of the corner of her eye. “It would be nice to watch TV with a mom.”
“I’m so glad Jamie Barclay moved here,” Phin said, picking up another pillow. “Yes, after dinner you can watch TV. With a dad.”
“Would you like to meet Jamie Barclay?” Dillie asked, much too innocently.
“Sure,” Phin said cautiously.
“And then I could meet the movie people,” Dillie said.
“No,” Phin said.
“Dad.” Dillie put her hands on her hips. “I should know your friends.”
“They’re leaving in a week,” Phin said, tossing the last pillow to her.
“Well, I’m really glad the movie people came here,” Dillie said as she caught it. “Friends are important. Don’t you think?”
“What do you want on your hot dog?” Phin said.
After lunch on Tuesday afternoon, a cab came bouncing down the lane to the farm. “Company,” Sophie called back into the house, and then went out to meet Leo Kingsley. He was bent over talking to the driver, and she waited patiently, but then the cab door opened again and somebody tall, dark, and Dempsey got out of the backseat.
“Davy!” Sophie shrieked, and threw herself off the step
into his arms, and he swung her around and hugged the breath out of her. “I didn’t know you were coming, why didn’t you tell me you were coming, I’m so glad you came—”
He kissed her on the cheek, a big, brotherly smack that was loud and loving, and said, “I didn’t know, either, until Leo called me. What the hell are you up to?”
“We’re making a video,” Sophie said. “Amy wants to come to L.A. I am so glad to see you.”
He looped his arm around her neck and said, “I’m glad to see you, too, babe. Amy’s not going to L.A. She’d hate it. Now, explain to me why you’re making—”
“Don’t let me get in your way,” a mournful voice said from behind him. “Just because it’s the Mojave here and I’m about to have a coronary, don’t let that—”
“Leo, this is my sister, Sophie,” Davy said, and Sophie looked around him to smile at Leo politely.
Leo Kingsley was an attractive man, healthy and fit in his middle forties, beautifully dressed and styled to the teeth. His hair was thick and brown, and he had kind eyes and a good face. But Leo Kingsley was also clearly a man who’d seen too much and wasn’t getting over it.
“Welcome to Temptation,” Sophie said, and he nodded sadly and said, “Catchy title. Nice to meet you. I need central air.”
“Sorry,” Sophie said. “It’s primitive here.”
“That figures,” Leo said gloomily. “It’s Ohio.”
“Why don’t you come in and have some lemonade?” Sophie said.
“Lemonade?” Leo said. If she’d offered him arsenic, he couldn’t have been more appalled.
“Diet Coke?” Sophie said. “Peach brandy? Ice water? Beer? Ham sandwich? Dove Bar?”
“Ice cream?” Leo said, and Sophie relaxed.
“Right this way.” She held the door for him and he went in, stepping neatly over the dog that had flopped down in the doorway, saying, “Look out, Lassie,” as he did.
Sophie said, “No, don’t name it,” but it was too late. She looked down at the dog and said, “Lassie?” and it stood up and wagged its stubby tail.
“You have a dog?” Davy said.
“Is this a problem?” Leo said.
Welcome to Temptation/Bet Me Page 17
