The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) (13 page)

Chase had to take care of a manufacturing problem. It meant most of the night on the phone with a factory thousands of miles away. He’d had to head back into the office and when he was done, it was too late for him to head back to Ivy House, so he went right up to his own apartment at the hotel, a suite of rooms he’d fashioned into a bachelor pad when he’d bought the marina and the Osprey Arms. He had a long bank of windows overlooking the docks, and room service whenever he wanted. Even though it was late, he was too keyed up to sleep, so he poured himself a glass of single malt and sipped it while he sat in the dark and took in the view of the water.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Even when he was yelling and cajoling, his mind had slipped into wild fantasies. Not just of kissing of her, but of much more. Just how would her long, lean body look without one of her little v-neck sweaters? Or how her red-gold hair would spill across a pillow, or the way her supple legs would wrap around him as he rode her into wild release.

Or the way her eyes had flashed when she had laughed at him today, challenging him to track down ever more ridiculous items. The trouble he had gone to for a pair of pink-and-white-striped napkin rings. And it had all been a pleasure. Phoebe had been relaxed, her guard down, not eyeing him with distrust or keeping her distance.

He had been able to, for a moment, see the world the way she saw it, as a canvas of color and form, a palette of inspiration. She had been able to clearly explain to him how some of the things would influence her and how others just spoke to her, and she had enjoyed the hunt, the seeking of offbeat beauty, talking with all of the different dealers, learning where things had come from.

Chase shook his head. He wanted her; of that, there was no doubt. He had felt something the moment he’d walked into the house and there had been that odd feeling of recognition. True, she had looked a lot like Savannah Ryan that day, but she was as far from a movie star as could be. Phoebe was a jeans-and-sweater type of girl, who craved pretty, but not necessarily glamorous things. She could find a use for anything; even turn an ugly duckling into a swan.

He let himself breathe deeply, imagining the smell of her shampoo, the floral and citrus scent mixing with her distinctive aroma. What he wouldn’t give to have her here with him right now.

Easy tiger
, he told himself. He’d started out on the wrong foot with her and she was as prickly as a cactus. But still, if she thought to deny her attraction to him, she was crazy. She was a terrible liar and couldn’t bluff worth a damn. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Chase glanced at his watch. The sun would be up soon and he hadn’t slept.

He had a few things to do before he was ready for his next meeting with Phoebe Ryan.

Phoebe awoke from a pleasant dream. It took her a moment to orient herself. And then she blushed. She had been having one of those dreams. Her face and body felt warm, suffused with blood, and there was an ache between her legs. It came back to her in bits and pieces, the dream, flashes of a dark head and blue eyes, the almost real feeling of his lips on hers, his hands stroking her, arousing her.

She pulled the covers up and buried her face into them.
Oh God,
she thought,
I am turning into a horny teenager.
The idea that an imaginary Chase Sanders, with his arrogant grin and big sexy hands, could have done that to her was just too much.

Before she could think more about it, her phone buzzed. Reaching for it, she tamped down disappointment when she recognized the number.

“Dean,” Phoebe said, hoping the embarrassment didn’t come across in her voice.

“Well, it seems like you have been a busy little bee,” he said. It was cheerful, but Phoebe detected an undercurrent of disapproval.

“Oh,” she said, grasping for words. She had left the window up and cool morning air filtered in, bringing her heart rate back to normal. The wild dream of last night receded.

“You saw the press release?” Phoebe had allowed Chase and his team to issue one. A brief notice that North Coast Outfitters and Ivy Lane Designs were collaborating on a new collection. Luckily, no one would pick up on the connection between her and Chase. But still it was out there, a flag in the sand, so to speak, that Phoebe was declaring for herself.

“Yes, I wish you had told me. I would have been happy to negotiate on your behalf,” Dean said smoothly. Phoebe heard the clink of china and realized that Dean was already up, fully up, even though it was still very early on the West Coast.

“Well, thanks for the thought, but I did OK,” Phoebe said. The terms had seemed fair enough; but then, she hadn’t really asked for more, pushed, seen how much Chase was willing to give her. Dean was like a shark; he would never have acted that way on behalf of his client.

“Glad to hear. It’s a good thing,” he said, “I suppose. I am still working on wearing CallieSue down and knowing that you’ve moved on might be just the thing to make her want you back.”

“Dean,” Phoebe began. In truth, she hadn’t thought once about losing the job to work on CallieSue’s new line of country accessories and home goods. She had been too focused on and excited about her own business and designs to think about anyone else’s.

“I know, I know, you said to leave it be. I wasn’t sure that heading out there was such a good idea, but who knew you would sign a business deal.” He laughed again, but Phoebe had the sense he was dodging the point. Dean was probably sitting in his ultra-modern apartment, high up, with a commanding view of the city.

“Well, I think it’s good for me. The house is wonderful,” Phoebe hedged. It still needed a lot of work, but she was getting there. “And I’ve been feeling really creative, full of energy.” Inspired, though Phoebe didn’t say that.

“Well, I just want you to be careful, my dear. I checked a bit on the company you’ve signed on with. I hope you aren’t dealing directly with the president, a Chase Sanders. He seems to have quite the reputation for himself.”

Phoebe felt herself bristle at the implied warning. “He’s not anything like the papers make him out to be…” she began, and then realized that she didn’t know him that well at all.

“Ahh, so it was a personal deal,” Dean said. “Listen, Phoebs, you know I am just looking out for you. I don’t want you to get taken advantage of again.” He said it gently, kindly and Phoebe felt her irritation slip away. Dean really did look after her; he always had.

“I know, I know,” Phoebe acknowledged. “And it’s just business, nothing like it was with Garrett. I mean, I have nothing to offer him besides my pillows.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone and Phoebe waited, hoping that Dean wouldn’t say anything that would make it awkward between the two of them.

“Well, I am sure you know what you’re doing. And, well, now that you have a new job, I’m sure you’ll be back here soon working again.”

Phoebe laughed with him, not having the heart to tell him that she wasn’t sure whether she was going back. She could work wherever she wanted to, at least for a while, and the thought of not hopping on a plane and heading back to Los Angeles was becoming more and more appealing.

<<>>

Her morning, after the phone call with Dean, went well. At least she meant it to, having every intention to focus on work. She’d made a great start on the collection for North Coast Outfitters, but she was fiddling with the first designs, doing her best to get them perfect. Memorable. Unforgettable.

“Don’t be alarmed.” Jake, the floor guy, popped up in front of her, a bacon-and-egg sandwich in one hand and the other hand clutched around a steaming cup of coffee. Phoebe was so startled she almost dropped the empty mug of coffee that she had been on her way to refill.

“Is there a problem?” Phoebe asked. Chase strolled in right behind Jake, hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, looking totally at ease in a leather jacket. He had on his expensive sunglasses, which he removed as his dark eyes gazed around the place.

“We’re almost done,” Jake said to Phoebe’s unanswered question. “I know it still looks bad, but this is a messy job. I need another two days for the upstairs. And then you can really start to move in.”

One more night. Lynn’s mother had offered her the guest bedroom on a permanent basis while the floors were being done, but so far, she’d been able to stay in the house. Jake, since he was Chase’s floor guy, was giving her a deal, which meant he worked on her house in between his other jobs.

“It looks beautiful.” Chase gestured towards the living room. Phoebe had picked the darker stain. The wood had been restored beautifully and the floors gleamed, looking sharp and clean. Unfortunately, it only made the paint look more dingy. Phoebe wanted to take her time picking colors, and this way she could live in the house and restore it at the same time.

“Really, it does,” Phoebe agreed. She supposed another night at the Masters’ home was a small price to pay for perfect hardwood floors.

“Great.” Jake took another bite of his sandwich and spoke around a mouthful. “Why don’t the two of you get out of here so we can finish up?”

Phoebe couldn’t help herself, gazing up the stairs, to the landing, and the attic piled high with the remnants of Savannah’s life.

“Don’t even think about,” Jake said, watching her gaze. “You can’t walk up there.”

Phoebe laughed and held up her hands in mock surrender. “OK, I get it. I’ll get out.”

She thanked Jake and walked out the door into a beautiful spring day. She sensed Chase’s presence behind her, but did not turn.

“So, fancy going for a sail?”

“A what?” Phoebe turned and looked at Chase. He was making a habit of just showing up and she could see he was serious, completely serious.

“A sail. You said you liked boats. Mine happens to be at the marina, and it’s a beautiful spring day, with a nice breeze. There’s a deli that will make us some nice sandwiches, a couple of sodas, maybe a glass of wine?”

“Are you sure this isn’t just a chance for me to check out your sheets?”

Chase smiled, and she felt heat shoot through her. “As I was trying to tell you that night, I think there’s a gap in the market. Boat sheets are boring, bland. And you, I mean, your designs seem anything but.”

“So it’s another business meeting?” Phoebe challenged.

“We boaters like to call it a pleasure cruise.” He was joking, a cheesy-looking leer on his face. He topped it off with a wink and Phoebe had to laugh. But she felt her breath hitch and flame of desire lick through her as she gave serious consideration to the fact that she would be alone on a boat with him.

“Is it going to rain?” The sky was clear, but she could see a sort of haze settling over the harbor.

“Not until much later. Right now, it’s a great day out.” He’d pushed back his sunglasses so she could see his eyes gazing down at her, and she knew he wanted her to say yes. Phoebe hesitated for a moment, her brain screaming at her to say no, that she should go find someplace to hunker down, open up her laptop, do some work, but her body was sizzling with electricity, the thrill of being near Chase, of wanting to be near him.

“Fine. But I get to steer,” Phoebe said.

She had run upstairs to pack a bag and then dropped it off at the Masters’ house, briefly telling Mrs. Masters where she was going.

“A sail. Isn’t it supposed to rain?” Mrs. Masters said, glancing at the sky and then back towards Chase who had walked in with Phoebe.

“Oh, I think it will hold off. We should be fine,” Chase said and then shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Mrs. Masters was giving him that look, the look moms used to give him when he came to pick up their daughters.

Phoebe came downstairs wearing khaki shorts and a collared shirt tied at the waist. A fleece was thrown over her shoulders and she had a pair of sunglasses and her camera.

“We’ll be back later,” Chase said, trying not to be obvious in noticing the way Phoebe’s shorts showed off just about every inch of her long, tan, golden California legs.

He saw Mrs. Masters give him a look, so with one eyebrow raised and a smile, he turned on all of his charm.

“I promise I’ll have her back in one piece, before sundown,” Chase said, pulling his eyes away from Phoebe’s thighs.

His charm worked. Mrs. Masters gave them some cookies and shooed them off. Chase drove them back down to the marina, where he ordered some food from the small deli near the docks. His boat was well stocked with water, soft drinks, and, as promised, wine and beer.

Chase wanted to put his arm around Phoebe and tell her that he wouldn’t bite. Not unless she asked him to. But she seemed intent on keeping a distance between them, as if their kisses had never happened. Still, he felt a faint stirring of hope when he caught her looking at him speculatively from underneath her lashes while pretending to browse through the postcard rack in the marina office.

Perhaps she wasn’t as cool as he thought. Ice queen was the thought that had come to mind when he’d first met her, but after their kiss, he’d had to rearrange his thinking. She had been more like a fire demon, the way she had moved into him, arousing all of his senses, the way he had wanted the kiss to last forever, how he wanted to run his hands over her body, touch her, feel her. Each time, all rational thought had fled from his mind. Well, he’d had a few of them, like how he could get her alone and under him in a house without a lick of furniture and a pile of old boxes.

“Find anything?” Chase asked, his business taken care of.

She held up a picture of a large building that looked out over the water, a huge Victorian building, covered in lacy white trim, looking a bit like a wedding cake.

“The Queensbay Show House,” Chase said, a small smile ghosting across his lips.

“Savannah used to perform there in the summer. I think that was when her agent was trying to revive her career.”

Chase raised his eyebrows as he took the postcard for a moment.

“I know. It didn’t really work. She never did have the best singing voice.”

“Did you ever see her perform in one of her shows?”

Phoebe nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. “Not here—in Los Angeles. Still, it was a bit like magic. My nanny took me, but I got to go backstage where everyone was getting ready, see all these half-dressed actors sitting there, putting on their makeup. It’s old and huge and bright and dark, all at the same time, and it was possibly the most exciting place in the whole world for a little girl.”

Chase felt his heart tug. She had been lighthearted and free during the flea market, but she hadn’t talked about her past. He realized he liked it when Phoebe let her guard down, when she actually talked about herself. He could almost see the little girl she had been, watching the chaos and excitement that was backstage.

“I bet you had your best dress on.”

Phoebe laughed. “And I got to eat M&Ms and drink a Coke during intermission. It was a little slice of heaven.”

“Well, then, let’s go.”

“What do you mean? It’s been closed for years,” Phoebe said.

“I meant we could sail past it. It will have to do, but there’s a great little cove past there that we can tuck into and have our lunch.”

Phoebe put the postcard back. “Sounds good.”

<<>>

Phoebe might have been more comfortable as a swimmer than a sailor, but she knew how to handle herself on a boat. He watched as she hopped lightly aboard.

“Do you want me to stow this for you?” she said, pointing at the canvas bag packed full with their lunch.

“That would be great,” he told her and got busy readying the boat for cast-off. They would motor out of the marina area and out into the wide expanse of Queensbay Harbor. The wind was coming off the land, so they would have a nice clear run up to the Queensbay Show House and then make the trip into Pine Cove. The cove was a decent-sized inlet off the Sound, deep enough for them to be able to go in, nice and protected from the wind and waves, anchor, maybe even take the little dinghy to shore and wade along the sandy shoreline.

When everything was safely stowed below, she hopped onto the dock, untied the mooring lines, and elegantly jumped back aboard. He powered up his engine and his forty-foot sailing cruiser moved away from the slip. Chase guided it out into the channel and towards open water, loving the feeling of the wind ruffling his hair, the smell of the tangy salt water assailing his nostrils.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you take the wheel when I set the sails,” he told Phoebe, but she merely nodded.

It was warming up and the pale pink of her shirt showed off the light tan of her skin. She looked content, sitting back on the cockpit seat, her head turned up to catch the sun.

It took more than a few minutes motoring slowly to make it out to open water. He gave the wheel to Phoebe, told her which direction to point the boat in, and got his sail up. In a moment, it snapped, caught the wind and the boat picked up speed.

Chase came back down in the cockpit and stood next to her. He felt her tense as he put an arm out to help her correct her course. When she had it, he cut the engine and there was that moment of pure, glorious quiet, the only sound a whisper of wind, and the smooth swish of water beneath the bow.

<<>>

Phoebe watched him move around the boat, capable and confident. He looked as good in a pair of rolled-up khakis and polo shirt as he did in his jeans and t-shirt, and she found herself focusing on the pull of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

He touched her and her body tensed, but it was only a hand on hers, to help her point the boat in the right direction, and as soon as he did, she felt the boat leap to life below her, surge forward on the power of the wind.

Now he was sitting down, stretched out, hands behind his head.

“Aren’t you going to watch where we’re going?

“No, that’s what you’re here for,” he said with a smile.

“But I could hit something.”

He shrugged. “It’s the middle of the week, early in the season. I bet we have the water all to ourselves.”

Phoebe looked around. The harbor was quiet, its high banks covered in a blanket of leafy trees, the sun sparkling and dancing on its surface.

“I guess we’ll be safe.”

“Just don’t get too close to shore.” Chase settled in and for all the world looked like he was going to nap.

Phoebe watched him for a moment and then nudged him. “Not fair. I didn’t know you were going to make me do all the work.”

“Work? You call this work?”

Phoebe sighed, looking at the harbor, at the houses nestled among the trees, at a bird, a hawk probably, flying overhead.

“No, this isn’t work at all,” she agreed.

“Told you nothing beats a sail for fixing what ails you.” Chase sat up now and looked around. He scooted over and came and stood behind her, one arm coming around and touching hers. “A bit to the starboard,” he said.

She had lost track of their course. She was supposed to be heading for the wedding cake. That’s how she had always thought of the Queensbay Show House, a giant white wedding cake perched on the edge of the bank.

“I see it.”

Chase was still behind her, close—too close—when he asked, “If you loved going to the theater, how come you never wanted to be an actress?”

“You mean like Savannah?”

“Exactly. You have the name, the face, and I am sure she would have opened the doors for you.”

Phoebe swallowed, surprised that the memory could still pain her after all these years. Chase moved so he could see her.

“What is it? Tell me.”

Lips pursed together, Phoebe shook her head.

“That bad?” he guessed.

“Worse,” Phoebe admitted and then found herself smiling. “I was in first grade. We were doing a play, “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” I got to be Goldilocks, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Well, it wasn’t just the hair. The teacher had figured out that Savannah was my grandmother and I think she held out the hope that if I got the lead, Savannah would deign to come.”

“Did she?” Chase asked.

“Of course she did.” Phoebe closed her eyes as the memory replayed itself.

“And…”

“I got stage fright, forgot my lines, and knocked down one of the walls of the Bears’ house. Who knew Goldilocks was a comedy?”

“That sounds pretty bad. But you were just a kid.”

“And I knew I wasn’t cut out for it. And Savannah knew too. You know what she said?”

Chase shook his head.

Phoebe’s voice changed, becoming richer, more ironic. “Don’t worry, dear, the theater will survive quite nicely without you.”

“Ouch,” Chase said, but he was smiling, his teeth white against the tanned skin of his face.

“Well, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I never had delusions of making it as an actress. Savannah helped me find my other talents. She was very encouraging that way. She’s the one who kept sending me art supplies and books, even bought me my first computer so I could use a graphics program.” Phoebe’s voice had dropped back into her own.

“So, she wasn’t the prima donna the press made her out to be?” Chase’s voice was low, a dangerous growl, but she could sense the humor in it.

“Well, like I said, she was more like an Auntie Mame than an Auntie Bess, but I guess she did her best.”

Surprised, Phoebe found her eyes tearing up. She’d been so focused on taking care of Savannah, of sorting through things, that she had put her memories of Savannah far away.

“I always thought she was more like a fairy godmother than a grandmother. I could never call her Grandma. She made me call her Aunt Savannah. I mean, she was absent and forgetful, but then she could be generous to a fault.

“And now?” Chase asked.

“I miss her, but she was so sick at the end. Cancer. But I feel like in some respects, I never really knew what made her tick. She was an actress to the end, playing a role, keeping her secrets.”

Chase laughed. “Well, everyone has those. Do you know that my grandmother didn’t love Leland?”

“Well, of course she didn’t.”

“No, I mean before he ran away with Savannah. She thought she loved him, but they didn’t love the same things. Leland liked the big life. My grandmother was more of a small-town girl.”

“So?” Phoebe didn’t know where this was going. So far, they had avoided the fact that their grandparents had been lovers.

“Well, let’s just say Leland wasn’t leaving a happy marriage behind. Or perhaps that Savannah didn’t have to do much to get him to come.”

“You know, Savannah always said he was the love of her life. It wasn’t easy, but I think they were really, deeply in love. Passionate and stormy, but it was more than just an affair.”

“And is that what you think love should be?’ Chase asked, his eyes dark as he looked at her.

Phoebe shook her head. “No. I think that’s the kind of love that doesn’t survive. It consumes people, makes them resent each other. Savannah was a passionate person, but she could be passionate about many things. I think she could claim Leland was the love of her life because she didn’t have to spend the rest of her life with him.”

She glanced away, out over the water, swallowing before she continued. “My parents loved each other and I don’t remember stormy at all. They seemed happy. Like my mom would smile when my dad came home early and my dad’s face lit up when he saw her. They could count on each other. I think that’s what love is.”

“So no dark and stormy for you?” Chase’s voice was dangerously low, and Phoebe looked at him for a long moment before she replied.

“I think dark and stormy could have its place, for a while.”

Chase gave her his lopsided smile. “Good to know.”

He’d taken off his sunglasses and his eyes were boring into her, laying her bare, and Phoebe felt a shiver run through her. She never should have told him so much and wished he wouldn’t look at her that way. It made not thinking about that kiss all the more difficult.

“There she is.” They sailed past the Queensbay Show House, which almost looked like it were about to pitch into the water. There was a large hand-lettered banner across the front, which read “Save the Show House.”

“Guess it’s fallen on some hard times.”

“Yeah.” Chase’s hand was on her shoulder and he squeezed it. It was a simple, friendly gesture, but her body didn’t respond that way. She wanted to move away, but here she was trapped in a boat, with not a lot of room to hide.

The Show House slipped behind him and Chase took over the wheel. He handled the boat through the channel out into the Sound, gliding past a long pile of rocks that guarded the entrance. Chase headed east, and they sailed along the wide-open water for a while, until he turned again towards the shore. He switched on the motor and she took the wheel as he dropped the sail. He came back and maneuvered them into a narrow passageway that opened up into a wide-open cove, ringed by marsh and trees. It was beautiful, Phoebe thought, and peaceful. A few houses ringed the shoreline, but it was quiet. She savored the calm, trying to drink it in, wash way the nerves she was feeling every time Chase’s arm brushed against hers.

“They put this all together pretty quickly for you,” Phoebe said. They were eating lunch, an array of bread, cheeses, and sandwiches set out before them. Chase had appeared with a bottle of cold white wine, and Phoebe accepted a glass, as much to settle her nerves as anything else.