Welcome to Temptation/Bet Me Read online

  Even so she asked Rachel to get her some green paint for Saturday, something that matched the leaves in the wallpaper. “I just want to see one room done before I go,” she said, and on Saturday they papered halfway up on the other walls and added two apple green stripes for a border, and then painted all the woodwork and cabinets apple green, too.

  “It’s pretty,” Rachel said, when they were done. “I didn’t think it would be, but it is.” She began to pack the empty cans and used brushes into a garbage bag.

  “Yeah, it is,” Sophie said, and then pulled herself together. “Have you heard from Leo?”

  “Oh, yeah, he calls every day, but it’s always about business, and what’s going on here. I mean, he never says he misses me.”

  “Rachel, if he calls every day to talk about business, he misses you. There is no business in Temptation.”

  “Well, he’s not saying, ‘Rachel, honey, come out to L.A., I need you.’ ”

  “You may be asking for too much,” Sophie said.

  “Just a job. I’d be a great personal assistant.”

  “Oh, just a job,” Sophie said, feeling sorry for Leo.

  “It’d be a great job and I’d get out of here.” Rachel dropped into a kitchen chair and surveyed her green-stained manicure. “My mother is driving me nuts because of all the rumors about you and Phin. That’s why she keeps dropping by here. That and to see Zane.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

  “Rumors,” Sophie said, feeling the chill again.

  “The town knows you’re doing it,” Rachel said, and then added hastily, “Phin hasn’t been bragging or anything or taking you to dinner to show you off. It’s not his fault, he’s kept you real quiet.”

  Yes, he has, Sophie thought, and then kicked herself for feeling wounded. She hadn’t wanted to go to dinner anyway.

  “But my mom is hipped on me marrying him so she hates you,” Rachel finished. “That’s why she keeps showing up here.”

  “Oh. Well, tell her she can stay home. Phin’s lost interest. Doesn’t call, doesn’t write, what the hell.”

  “That can’t be right,” Rachel said frowning. “Phin’s not like that. He’s a gentleman. He wouldn’t just walk off. And he really wants you. The last time I saw you guys together, he looked like he was going down for the third time.”

  “Well, his mother threw him a rope,” Sophie said, getting mad just thinking about Liz and the rest of the insiders.

  “You should talk to him,” Rachel said. “He’ll probably be at the Tavern tonight. You should go.”

  “Maybe,” Sophie said, wanting to see him again, which was too pathetic for words.

  “Definitely you should go,” Rachel said.

  Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “Okay,” Sophie said.

  Back in town, Phin flipped over the closed sign and thought about Sophie. Davy had made it acidly clear when Phin had called that Sophie never wanted to see him again, and when he remembered the things he’d said to her on the dock, Phin could understand that. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t seduce her back to him if he could just get her alone. Maybe he could drug Davy—

  Somebody knocked on the glass door, and Phin turned to see Zane. Since it was unlikely that Zane had felt a sudden need to read, Phin opened the door with fair assurance that he was about to be the focus of Zane’s next dumbass move to get Clea back.

  “Heard you had a pool table,” Zane said. “That’s my game.”

  This should be good, Phin thought, and said, “Table’s in the back.”

  Zane went past the table, picked up a cue and sighted down the length of it, scowling, then put it back and picked up another, settling on one wrapped with red tape.

  “They’re all good,” Phin said. “But that’s the break cue.”

  Zane nodded. “Good.” He racked the balls, scrubbing the rack up and down on the felt until Phin thought he’d have to take it away and smack him with it. When he lifted the rack, the front ball was a sliver of an inch from the rest, but either Zane didn’t notice or he didn’t care. Then Zane went to the head of the table, put the cue ball a good six inches behind the head string, and bent to shoot, gripping his cue until his knuckles went white.

  I’m playing with an idiot who doesn’t even know you don’t rack your own balls, Phin thought, and sat down, nodding when Zane’s break bounced the head ball and left most of the balls barely scattered. Nothing went in, and he cushioned only three balls, two of them stripes that ended up near pockets. And now I have to open that mess, Phin thought, and picked up his cue again, but Zane said, “Stripes,” and bent to shoot.

  Phin sat back down again, wondering whether Zane knew he was cheating or if he just didn’t know eight-ball. Both, he decided as he watched Zane flounder around the table, pumping his stroke from his shoulder and hitting the two stripes into their pockets at warp speed. On his third ball, the cue ball brushed Phin’s two before it smacked into the thirteen, but Zane didn’t seem to notice. That was a foul and I have ball-in-hand, Phin thought about saying, but it was more instructive to watch Zane bash the balls and the game around.

  On his fourth shot, Zane jawed the twelve in the corner pocket and it bounced out. “Tight pockets,” he said to Phin.

  You’re a moron. “They can be,” Phin said, and picked up his cue. “Solids, huh?” He scanned the table, which Zane had broken up for him with his blundering, chalked his cue, and began to pocket balls on plain vanilla draw-and-follow shots.

  “I think there are some things about that video you should know,” Zane said as Phin played. “Especially since you put in that film permit.”

  Phin ignored him and pocketed the six.

  “It’s pornography, Phin,” Zane said. “I know you don’t know that because I know Sophie lied to you. Her whole family is crooked. Davy’s a con man out in L.A. Amy’s got a juvie record that would turn your hair white. The cops want her dad on a fraud charge right now. Sophie’s playing you—”

  Phin straightened and met his eyes, not amused.

  “I’m just saying,” Zane said, stepping back, “that it would be smart of you to stay away from the Dempseys because people tend to lose things around them. Like money. And elections.”

  Phin shut him out, chalked his cue, and bent back to the table to work his way to the eight, concentrating so he wouldn’t grab Zane by the throat.

  “You don’t believe me? Look up Leo Kingsley, that producer they’ve got out there. You know what his production company is? Leo Films. He only makes porn. You check it out. You’ll see. She’s lying to you if she told you that movie isn’t porn.”

  Phin ignored him and put the one ball in the side pocket with a draw shot that brought the cue ball into position for the eight in the corner pocket. It was a lovely, simple shot, but then, the simple shots were always the prettiest, restoring his faith in physics and the world in general, something he needed right now since what Zane was saying was probably true. Anything that could be checked as easily as that had to be true. Except for Sophie playing him. She wasn’t like that.

  Of course, that’s what every guy who’d ever been played had probably thought.

  Phin chalked his cue and bent to put the eight ball in, and Zane said, “So you’ll stop the movie?”

  Phin pocketed the eight. “No,” he said as he straightened. “That’s game. You can go now.”

  “I’m thinking about your family,” Zane said. “I can understand family, I’m trying to save my own here. My wife—”

  “My family is fine,” Phin said, putting his cue back. “Good-bye.”

  “Your wife isn’t. She’s dead.” Zane leaned closer. “You know, the police reports from her death are pretty interesting. A little more digging there, and I could have a real news story. And you could have a real scandal.”

  “And you could have a real lawsuit,” Phin said. “My wife’s death was an accident.”

  “The police chief was your father’s cousin, and the coroner is a relative of your mother