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  “That’s it,” he said, pulling his head out from under the sink. “Turn on the water.”

  She walked over to the sink and turned on the tap. “Very fast,” she said as the water swirled down the drain. “Nice job, Mayor.”

  “Yeah, well, we do it all.” He got to his feet. “Now, I’ll have some of that wine.”

  She poured him a glass while he washed his hands, and then sat at the table with him in uncomfortable silence while he took his first sip. “Interesting,” he said, looking at the glass. “Did you make this in the basement?”

  “We bought it at the grocery,” Sophie said.

  “The grocery here in Temptation?” Phin said, appalled.

  “It’s the only one,” Sophie said. “Of course, the grocery here.”

  He started to laugh. “What, you couldn’t afford the Ripple?”

  “Fine, don’t drink it.” Sophie reached for his glass, but Phin held on to it.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine once I get used to it.” He took another sip and shuddered. “Never mind,” he said, and passed it over to her. “So tell me about the movie.”

  “No.” Sophie looked at him with naked exasperation. “That’s all you ever ask about, and I’ve already told you everything. What is it with you?”

  Phin shrugged. “Okay, tell me about your life. How did the therapist take the news last night?”

  Sophie raised her eyebrows. “You know he’s a therapist?”

  “This is Temptation,” Phin said. “Stay long enough, I’ll know everything about you. Of course, since you’re leaving tomorrow, you’ll get to keep most of your secrets.”

  “We’re not leaving tomorrow,” Sophie said. “We’re going to shoot some extra footage for the movie, so we’re staying over until next Sunday.”

  “Really.” Phin’s face was as impassive as ever. “And how did the therapist take that?”

  “I didn’t tell him.” Sophie sipped her wine and gathered her courage. “I told him I wanted to fuck you, and he told me I was trying to shock him with language.” There, that was the ticket, just say it really fast, like swallowing medicine or pulling off a Band-Aid.

  Phin frowned his disbelief. “You told him you wanted to fuck him, and he yelled at you for talking dirty?” He shook his head. “This guy is dead below the waist.”

  “No.” Sophie picked up his glass and moved to the sink to dump it. Then she swallowed and said carefully, “I told him I wanted to fuck you, and he said—” She stopped because this time he’d gotten it. “That wasn’t a pass,” she said, backing up a step. “I was merely—”

  “The hell it wasn’t.” Phin stood up, and Sophie thought, Oh, jeez, it’s working, now what do I do?

  “Well, not really.” She backed up again and bumped into the wall. “It was more...”

  He followed her to the wall and bent to look her in the eye. “Sophie.”

  “What?”

  “That was a pass.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, subconsciously, a small one.”

  “Sophie.”

  She shut her eyes. “Okay, it was a pass, but—”

  He kissed her, and she didn’t have to finish the sentence, which was a damn good thing because she had no idea where she’d been going with it. She kissed him back, clutching at his shirt, and he broke the kiss to say, “Don’t wrinkle the cotton,” and pried her fingers off. She thought, Well, the hell with you. Then he pulled her close again, and she pressed herself against all that lovely muscle and bone and thought, As long as he shuts up, this is going to be good, and then his mouth was on hers again, and she stopped thinking at all.

  Ten minutes later, when her dress was unbuttoned and so was his shirt, and she was dizzy and tight with the heat and even he looked a little mind-whacked, he said, “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “What?” Sophie blinked at him, coming back from all that good lust.

  “Bed. Room,” Phin said distinctly, sliding his hand inside her dress. “Or we can do this on the kitchen table, but I’m pretty sure I just heard somebody pull up outside. I don’t care if Wes and Amy watch, but having Zane in the room would definitely put me off my stroke.”

  “Oh, no.” Sophie stepped back, and he followed her, his hand tightening on her waist. “That would be bad with people ...” She looked around vaguely. “... here.” She caught sight of the phone and said, “Oh, damn, I have to call Brandon.”

  Phin looked at her incredulously and took his hand out of her dress. “Now?”

  “I have to break up with him before I fool around with you,” Sophie said. “That’s only right.”

  “You’re a little late.” He gestured to her open dress. “The fooling-around is pretty much under way. Come here.” He reached for her again, and she ducked away to grab the phone. “I don’t believe this,” he said, and sat down on the edge of the table, disheveled and gorgeous, looking at her as if she were demented, while she dialed and then waited for Brandon to pick up the phone.

  “Brandon?” she said when it finally clicked, but it was his machine again. “Listen, Brandon, I did not want to leave this message on your machine, but since you’re avoiding me—” She looked back over her shoulder at Phin, who was shaking his head at the ceiling. “—I think we should break up. And see other people. So that’s what I’m doing. Seeing other people.”

  Phin put his head in his hands.

  “Of course, they’re not sensitive, understanding people like you,” Sophie said pointedly.

  “You want sensitive and understanding, stick with the therapist,” Phin said. “You want great, head-banging sex, get off the fucking phone and come with me.”

  “I have to go now,” Sophie said breathlessly into the phone. “I’m sorry if this hurts you but I don’t think it will. You always seemed sort of clinical anyway.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’ll soften the blow,” Phin said. “Remind me never to get involved with you.”

  “Um, have a nice life,” Sophie said brightly, and hung up. She walked over and boosted herself onto the table next to him, willing herself to stay cool, and reached for her wineglass again. “So you’re not getting involved?”

  He took the glass away from her. “No. I’m just going to .have cheap sex with you and then run like hell.”

  “Chicken,” she said.

  He stood up and put her glass in the sink, and then he came back to stand in front of her, parting her knees with his body. He said, “You bet,” and she lost her breath again.

  He kissed her, sliding his hand into her dress to cup her breast, and she thought, A semi-complete stranger is groping me, and smiled against his mouth.

  “What?” he said, and she gave in to the devil and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “It feels good,” she said, and he said, “Well, that’s why I do it,” and kissed her again, running his hands down her back to lift her off the table.

  “Where’s the bedroom?” he said, and she said, “Second door on the left upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?” He put her back on the table. “Then you walk. And make it quick, before the therapist calls back.”

  She was going to argue, but she heard Amy and Wes on the porch, so she slid off the table and headed for the stairs and all that head-banging sex she’d been promised.

  Twenty minutes later, she was suffocating on top of him in the heat of her un-air-conditioned bedroom, the ancient box springs squeaking under them like a bad accordion, and her head was unbanged because the sex was lousy.

  It wasn’t Phin’s fault. He was as thoroughly competent at the Phallic Variation as he’d been orally the night before. So it must be me, she thought, as he moved under her, doing absolutely nothing for her. She felt embarrassed by the whole situation. Zane had been right. She just wasn’t the type for head-banging sex. She was too detached. She was too prissy and straight. She was doing this to write a sex scene for a movie she wasn’t even sure she wanted to make. She was hot and sticky and she could feel her hair kinking in the heat even as Phi