Welcome to Temptation by Jennifer Crusie Page A
Authors: Jennifer Crusie
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous, Romance, Contemporary, Fiction - Romance, City and Town Life, Sisters, American Light Romantic Fiction, Romance - Contemporary, Romance - General, Motion Picture Actors and Actresses, Romance: Modern, Documentary films, Ohio, Women motion picture producers and directors
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away from all the manufactured optimism at home, and Diane had sat down beside him. "So you're Phin Tucker," she'd said. "Heard about you." He closed his eyes and tried to call up her face, guilty that he'd cared so little for her that he couldn't even get that back. Warm brown eyes, he remembered, and dark tumbling hair, and that cupid's-bow smile that Dillie could use to twist him around her little finger. He tried hard to put the features together, but instead of Diane, he saw Sophie Dempsey, who didn't look like Diane at all, her brown eyes wary and her dark hair twisted in that tense curly knot on top of her head. And her mouth was full and lush, not bowed like Diane's—
He felt a flush of heat thinking about her mouth and stood up, wondering what the hell was wrong with him that he could forget the woman who'd given him a daughter and get hot for a woman he didn't know and didn't like.
Page 30
"Dad, dinner ," Dillie said from the doorway behind him, and he went inside, dropping another kiss on the top of her head when he reached her.
"You are my favorite woman in the whole world," he told her, and she said, "I know," and led him into his mother's immaculate, air-conditioned, dessert-free dining room.
~3~
On Thursday morning, Rachel Garvey went out to the Whipple farm, a woman on a mission: She had to get out of Temptation before she went crazy and became her mother.
Her plan was simple; she was going to offer Clea Whipple her services on the movie, and then she'd make herself indispensable, so that when Clea left, she'd take Rachel with her. Her mother was always telling her what a treasure she was, so now she'd be Clea's treasure. Rachel felt no guilt at all about deserting her mother. Her two older sisters were still in town and they could be treasures after she was gone. It was way past time for their turns anyway.
When she pulled up to the porch, Clea was sitting on the top step, beautiful in the sunlight. More than beautiful. Drop-dead, sky-eyed, magnolia-skinned beautiful. So when Clea said, "Hello?" in a voice that sounded like music, Rachel said, "God, I've never seen anybody as gorgeous as you." Clea smiled and became more gorgeous.
Good start, Rachel thought, and went toward her. "I'm Rachel Garvey," she began, holding out her hand.
"And I was thinking maybe you could use—"
"Garvey?" Clea lost her smile. "Any relation to Stephen Garvey?"
"I'm his daughter," Rachel said. "Um, I came out to see if you could use some help." Clea shook her head, but before she could say anything, the screen door slammed, and Rachel looked up to see a redhead in tight jeans and a pink T-shirt knotted above her belly button.
"Hi." The redhead looked at Rachel with naked curiosity. "I'm Amy."
"I'm Rachel. I came out to help." Rachel held out her hand and then noticed that the redhead's hands were full of paint scrapers. "You're painting?" she said, hope rising. Amy jerked her head to the right side of the porch. "Just the porch wall white for a background." She handed one of the scrapers to Clea, who looked at it as if she'd never seen one before.
"No," Rachel said. "First of all, the paint's almost off that wood, so it's going to suck up the first six coats of white paint you put on. You need a coat of primer."
"Oh." Amy squinted at her. "Listen, we don't want this to be a good paint job, we just want a nice background."
"Then you don't want white, either. White isn't very flattering." Rachel smiled sweetly at Clea. "You want Page 31
something warm that will bounce color back at you."
"She's right." Clea reexamined Rachel, head to toe, and Rachel stood with her smile fixed, thinking, I don't like you, but if you take me to Hollywood , I'll learn to deal with you.
"So what do you suggest?" Amy sounded wary, and Rachel turned back to her, figuring she'd be easier to charm, anyway.
"I can get you a great deal on some peach paint," she told Amy. "We ordered a lot for a project that got changed in the middle. I'll
He felt a flush of heat thinking about her mouth and stood up, wondering what the hell was wrong with him that he could forget the woman who'd given him a daughter and get hot for a woman he didn't know and didn't like.
Page 30
"Dad, dinner ," Dillie said from the doorway behind him, and he went inside, dropping another kiss on the top of her head when he reached her.
"You are my favorite woman in the whole world," he told her, and she said, "I know," and led him into his mother's immaculate, air-conditioned, dessert-free dining room.
~3~
On Thursday morning, Rachel Garvey went out to the Whipple farm, a woman on a mission: She had to get out of Temptation before she went crazy and became her mother.
Her plan was simple; she was going to offer Clea Whipple her services on the movie, and then she'd make herself indispensable, so that when Clea left, she'd take Rachel with her. Her mother was always telling her what a treasure she was, so now she'd be Clea's treasure. Rachel felt no guilt at all about deserting her mother. Her two older sisters were still in town and they could be treasures after she was gone. It was way past time for their turns anyway.
When she pulled up to the porch, Clea was sitting on the top step, beautiful in the sunlight. More than beautiful. Drop-dead, sky-eyed, magnolia-skinned beautiful. So when Clea said, "Hello?" in a voice that sounded like music, Rachel said, "God, I've never seen anybody as gorgeous as you." Clea smiled and became more gorgeous.
Good start, Rachel thought, and went toward her. "I'm Rachel Garvey," she began, holding out her hand.
"And I was thinking maybe you could use—"
"Garvey?" Clea lost her smile. "Any relation to Stephen Garvey?"
"I'm his daughter," Rachel said. "Um, I came out to see if you could use some help." Clea shook her head, but before she could say anything, the screen door slammed, and Rachel looked up to see a redhead in tight jeans and a pink T-shirt knotted above her belly button.
"Hi." The redhead looked at Rachel with naked curiosity. "I'm Amy."
"I'm Rachel. I came out to help." Rachel held out her hand and then noticed that the redhead's hands were full of paint scrapers. "You're painting?" she said, hope rising. Amy jerked her head to the right side of the porch. "Just the porch wall white for a background." She handed one of the scrapers to Clea, who looked at it as if she'd never seen one before.
"No," Rachel said. "First of all, the paint's almost off that wood, so it's going to suck up the first six coats of white paint you put on. You need a coat of primer."
"Oh." Amy squinted at her. "Listen, we don't want this to be a good paint job, we just want a nice background."
"Then you don't want white, either. White isn't very flattering." Rachel smiled sweetly at Clea. "You want Page 31
something warm that will bounce color back at you."
"She's right." Clea reexamined Rachel, head to toe, and Rachel stood with her smile fixed, thinking, I don't like you, but if you take me to Hollywood , I'll learn to deal with you.
"So what do you suggest?" Amy sounded wary, and Rachel turned back to her, figuring she'd be easier to charm, anyway.
"I can get you a great deal on some peach paint," she told Amy. "We ordered a lot for a project that got changed in the middle. I'll
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