The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) (15 page)

Dinner was surprisingly normal. They’d pulled into the Masters’ house and Chase took a beer from Lynn’s father. The two men sat on the back deck overlooking the water, talking boats and sports.

Phoebe had run up to her room to change and freshen up, trying desperately to get the “I’ve just had the most amazing sex of my life” look off her. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks reddened from where his stubble had roughened them, and when she looked in the mirror, all she could think about was them, naked and twisting.

She splashed water on her face, changed into a sundress, sandals, and a sweater and ran down to help in the kitchen. Lynn shot her a look and there was a knowing smile on Mrs. Masters’ lips, but neither one of them said anything as they brought drinks and appetizers outside.

The Randalls had arrived by then. Noah was almost as tall as Chase, but with light brown hair. Caitlyn gave Phoebe a hug, explaining to Noah that they had run into each other in town. She was wearing a sundress and Phoebe could see that she was glowing, whether from her condition or the way Noah’s gaze lingered over her, she couldn’t tell.

Chase introduced them and Phoebe could feel Noah appraising her with his eyes, while one arm held his wife close. Apparently, she passed because he smiled and shook her hand easily. The sun was setting, turning the water into liquid gold, and a light wind rustled the tall trees in the Masters’ yard. It was a great view and Lynn had snuck in and changed the playlist on the radio to something fun and upbeat.

Chase made room for Phoebe to sit next to him and she did. His arm lay casually across the back of the settee as they made conversation.

“So,” Caitlyn said, sipping a club soda, “how are you enjoying our little town of Queensbay?”

Chase’s knee brushed against her, and Phoebe had to fight to keep her attention on Caitlyn. “It’s very relaxing,” she answered.

“Glad to hear it. Chase said you’ve started work on the house. How is that going?” Phoebe nodded. “Yes, that’s the plan, at least.” Phoebe wasn’t quite sure what else to say, since she didn’t know what she planned to do with it.

“Hey, Phoebe,” Lynn said, sitting on the arm of one of the wicker couches, “the clinic is running a kid fair soon to raise money. Think you could run the art booth for them, you know, since you’re creative and all that?”

“It’s for a great cause,” Caitlyn said, her hand unconsciously rubbing her belly. “Noah’s agreed to be in the dunk tank.”

“That I’ve got to see,” Chase said, punching his old friend’s arm.

“Only if we take turns,” Noah said.

“Hey, Chase, maybe North Coast Outfitters could donate some things, to use as raffle prizes? It is for a good cause.” Lynn said hopefully.

“Lynn, you’re hopeless,” her mother said, as she passed around a plate of hors d’oeuvres, but Phoebe could tell she wasn’t upset by her daughter’s forthright comment.

Chase laughed. “Well, if Phoebe’s in for being creative, I suppose I’m in for some dough. Just don’t make me finger-paint.” There was the general sound of laughter, and Dr. Masters reappeared with fresh beers for the guys and more white wine for Lynn and Phoebe.

Phoebe caught the look that had passed between Caitlyn and Lynn, plus Caitlyn’s knowing wink, and knew that one of the goals of the dinner had been to get her and Chase to agree to help out with the fair. She guessed that Lynn knew it wouldn’t hurt to have the granddaughter of Savannah Ryan running a booth. The girl was relentless when it came to protecting and guarding her clinic, she had to give her that. At least it was for a cause Phoebe could get behind.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, with steaks and salad eaten al fresco, laughter, and good conversation. Noah and Chase even told a few stories from their days at school, which had even Dr. Masters roaring with laughter. Phoebe felt alive, a warm glow suffusing her, from the good food and the company.

She saw the way Lynn’s parents looked at each other with affection and the way Noah was overly solicitous of Caitlyn and her comfort. There was no fiery passion here, just warmth and love. For a moment, Phoebe’s heart constricted and she knew this was what she wanted, more evenings like this, sitting out by the water, surrounded by friends and family.

She hazarded a glance at Chase, saw him laughing at something his friend said and wondered if he could ever want the same thing. He wasn’t a settling-down type and was cynical about love. Would he want to be sitting with her here, a year from now, hanging out on Ivy House’s own terrace, listening to music, laughing with friends, or would she already be old news to him, another one in his long string of flings? Though he had made it sound like he wasn’t as bad as everyone thought.

He caught her looking at him, and he flashed the smile, the one that made her toes curl and her stomach clench. She held his gaze and she could feel herself frown, the sadness growing on her face. Before she could dwell on that anymore, Lynn pulled her into a movie trivia game against her mother and Caitlyn.

“That was awesome,” Lynn said at the end of the game. Phoebe had won hands down, easily beating Lynn’s mother, who was shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’ve never beaten her,” Lynn said. “Not once.”

Caitlyn laughed, but Phoebe could see that she looked tired. Noah wandered over at that moment.

“I think it’s time I took my wife home.” Noah thanked the Masters and then turned to Chase. “You heading back to the village?”

“Yes, in a moment,” he said. He too thanked the Masters, told Lynn to give him a call about the kid’s fair, and then turned to Phoebe. They stood awkwardly. She was aware that everyone seemed to have drifted off to give them some privacy, but Phoebe kept her distance.

“I had a nice time,” she said, her voice even. He looked at her, a strange smile playing on his lips. He glanced over her shoulder and then took a step towards her. When she began to move back, he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his for a hot kiss. He broke away and whispered in her ear, “I feel like a teenager saying good night to my prom date.”

His head gestured and Phoebe turned. Mrs. Masters was hovering, her motherly instincts kicking into overdrive.

“Not at my prom,” Phoebe whispered. “I was eighteen and a legal adult and no one cared what I did or who I did it with.”

“Does that mean you’ll come back to my boat with me?” Chase asked.

Phoebe took a step back, remembering what she had felt earlier. She and Chase had an undeniable attraction, which they had officially satisfied. And that was it. It had to be. They couldn’t possibly want the same things. She had to be careful here; otherwise, she would get hurt.

“Not tonight,” Phoebe said.

“You’re sure you don’t want to see where this takes us?” Chase said, his look smoldering into her.

Phoebe jerked her head in the direction of the Masters’ house.

Chase glanced over her shoulder and Phoebe could all but feel Mrs. Masters’ concerned gaze boring into her. “Perhaps tonight is not the best night for it.” He agreed, and she felt a rush of disappointment.

“I could always sneak out after they’ve gone to bed,” she said as she leaned up into him, “…come meet you.”

“Tempting as that may be, I don’t think you’ll get far. Until next time?”

His lips brushed quickly and fiercely against hers and he was gone, disappearing into the dark of the night, towards the street, his car, and the short drive to the marina.

Chase could kick himself. He tossed and turned in his bed, thinking how easy it would have been to go back and wait for Phoebe to slip out of the house. She was a grown woman and he was a grown man. Neither of them were teenagers, but he knew that Dr. Masters wouldn’t go for it. He barely let his own daughter out of his sight, and he wasn’t going to let Phoebe go wandering off either.

She had seemed happy tonight. A bit skittish at first, sitting there with his friends and with Lynn, but later she had begun to relax. He wondered if she could be happy away from her life in Hollywood. Queensbay wasn’t exactly a backwater, but glittering parties and palm trees weren’t a part of their repertoire. Would dinners at the Yacht Club and afternoon sails be enough for her?

Chase wondered why he was worried about that. This afternoon had been intense, more than intense; it had been the best sex of his life. He wasn’t a choir boy, by any means, but he’d certainly been pickier than he’d let people believe when it came to actually getting into bed with a woman. Sure, the image of a playboy suited him and his company: a sailor with a girl at every port. The image had been created a long time ago to help him get endorsements for his sailing career and it had seemed to work when he took over North Coast Outfitters.

But it meant he generally met a certain kind of woman. Tall, athletic, gorgeous, but usually with an agenda, one that included using him to help themselves. Phoebe was the first whose arm he’d had to practically twist to take his help. And she was making it difficult by not allowing him to use her connection to Savannah. Still, he could understand her desire to make it on her own.

Chase tossed the covers off and got out of bed. He wasn’t going to sleep anyway. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he walked into the living room and threw himself on the couch, where he could look out and see the water. The lights of the marina were dimmed now, and boats bobbed peacefully in their slips. It was calm, quiet, and well ordered, and when he had come here as a kid to work in his dad’s store, he had dreamed of this. Of looking over it all and wanting it, wanting it to be his. And now he had it. But it just wasn’t enough anymore.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair. It was almost morning: time for him to get up, maybe take a run, work out some of these kinks.

Truth was, it wasn’t enough anymore because he wanted something more. Sure, he thought it had been the house, but once he had seen her, all of a sudden, it had been her. He wanted Phoebe Ryan, in his bed, but now he wasn’t ready to let her go.

As the sun rose, its rosy fingers painting streaks in the gray dawn sky, he smiled. He had a plan. Every good sailor needed a course, a strategy to get from A to B, to win the race. And if there was one thing he was good at, it was taking his time and working a plan.

“Sorry about dinner last night,” Lynn said, shaking her head. “Would you believe me if I told you it was Caitlyn’s idea?”

Phoebe pushed the coffee table out of the way and kicked the rug so that it unspooled across the sheen of her newly refinished floor.

“Really? I hadn’t guessed.”

Lynn scowled at her sarcasm. “Yes, she wanted to get to know you a little better. And get you and Chase to help out with the fair. She’s great, but a little relentless when it comes to making things happen. Not that I’m not grateful, since the clinic needs every penny it can get, but, well, I wouldn’t want to say no to her.”

“Glad I didn’t,” Phoebe said, and she was. She was happy to help.

“Nice rug,” Lynn said, “but I don’t know why you want to put all the furniture down when you still have to paint.”

“Not all the furniture.” Phoebe pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “Just enough so I can live here and move out of your spare bedroom. Besides, it’s good to live in a house for a while before deciding on the paint. You need to see how the light plays in the room.”

Lynn laughed. “Well, when I finally move out of my parents’ house and into my own place, promise me you’ll give me some decorating advice. I spend all of my time in baby-blue scrubs and around vomit-green walls. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

“Color is easy,” Phoebe said absently, her mind drifting.

“I don’t suppose you found any lost treasures up in the attic?”

“I’ve barely had time to go through it.” Phoebe had been busy working on the designs for North Coast Outfitters and handling the existing orders for business.

“There’s no time like the present.” Lynn jumped up.

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, I’m totally dying for a chance to poke around Savannah’s old stuff.”

Phoebe hesitated for a moment. It was her stuff to poke through if she wanted. She’d been avoiding it, unsure if she was ready for what she was going to find. Phoebe took one look at the expression on her friend’s face. It was so eager.

“Get ready for some dust,” she warned her as they made their way up the stairs and to the attic.

“Wow, Savannah really was a packrat,” Lynn said, as she moved a stack of old clippings aside. “Look, a bra.” Lynn held up a black lacy number.

“Ugh. That must have been from a movie. I don’t think she would have kept it otherwise.”

“Yeah, but which one? There’s nothing in here that says which one.”

Phoebe walked over, looked at the bra, then looked at the stack of clippings. “See, these are all reviews of
The Black Orchid
. It was a throwback to film noir. The bra was probably a part of it.”

Lynn closed her eyes, “Oh, yes, now I remember. Wasn’t she the fallen lady with the heart of gold?”

“Something like that. So, I guess the black bra was an integral part of the costume.”

“You know, sewing up knife wounds may not seem that glamorous, but at the end of the day, I’m glad I don’t have to sit around in my underwear in front of a million people,” Lynn said.

Phoebe shook her head. “Never seemed to faze Savannah. And she could pick up any object in her apartment and tell you what movie it was from, who her costar was, whether it was a hit or a flop.”

They were quiet for another minute, before Lynn asked her.

“Are you going to tell me about it or make me use my imagination?”

Phoebe groaned. “Was it that obvious?”

Lynn nodded. “Absolutely. If I hadn’t fallen asleep so early last night, I would have gotten it out of you then. So…”

Phoebe couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face. “It was pretty unbelievable.” Just the memory had a smile flooding across her face and heat spreading across her body.

“Wow. And you let him walk off last night? You didn’t go back for seconds.”

“I think it would have been thirds. Or fourths,” Phoebe said, failing to keep the smugness out of her voice.

“Argh, you’re killing me. Not really. Keep talking, just because I work crazy hours and barely have time for a shower, let alone a date. I need my vicarious thrills.”

“Like I said, it was pretty unbelievable. But somehow I don’t think your mom was too keen on me slipping away with him for a night of steamy sex on his boat.”

Lynn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, moms can be like that, even when they’re not your own.” As if realizing what she said, Lynn’s face contorted. “Man, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining about my mom…”

“…when I don’t have one,” Phoebe finished for her lightly, trying to put Lynn back at ease. “Don’t worry about saying the wrong thing. You shouldn’t be sorry for having a mother, even though she sometimes annoys you, just because I don’t. That’s life.”

“Wow, you sound so serene about it,” Lynn said.

Phoebe laughed. “Therapy. I had a lot of it after they died. And then one day, I realized I had to keep on living and so did other people. And it’s sort of nice to know someone’s looking after me. I think it probably kept me from making a mistake.”

Lynn snorted. “What sort of mistake is Chase Sanders?”

Phoebe didn’t know what to say. Sex with Chase had rocked her world. It had never been like that with anyone else, the physical sensations. But there was more. More to him and to the sex. She was afraid she was getting entangled.

“It’s funny,” Phoebe said. “All my life, guys have been into me because I was related to Savannah Ryan. Struggling actors, wannabe playwrights, even my old boss—they all thought there was something more to me because I was related to someone famous.”

Lynn sat on an old steamer trunk. “OK, so I get it. You had your own weird version of groupies. But what does that have to do with Chase?”

Phoebe looked at her and there it was like a sucker-punch in the gut as she said it aloud. “I think Chase might be the same way.”

“What do you mean? He doesn’t seem that way.”

“Associating with the Ryan name would be great for his business. I told him I didn’t want Savannah’s name mentioned, at least until everyone can judge my work for what it is, but I know he thinks I’m being foolish. I don’t think he can resist the allure of the romance of the century—the modern-day version—at least from a marketing perspective.”

Lynn looked at her, so Phoebe pulled out her phone.

“My friend sent this to me,” she said, as she called up the headline. “Déjà vu—Ryan Revives Famous Love Nest.” It’s short on details, but it talks about how I inherited the house and am intent on bringing it back to its former glory. It goes into Leland and Savannah.”

Lynn took the phone from Phoebe and scanned through the article. “So?” she asked.

Phoebe took her phone back and glanced at the article. “It might only be a matter of time before someone makes the connection between this house and the fact that Leland Harper’s grandson lives in this town. And then it will be romance of the century, part two.”

“And you think that’s a bad thing?” Lynn asked.

Phoebe shook her head. “It would be if Chase was behind it. I told him that I didn’t want to be known as Savannah Ryan’s granddaughter anymore. I have to stand on my own two feet, on my own talent.”

“Surely you don’t think?” Lynn asked.

Phoebe shrugged. She hadn’t had a chance to ask. And besides, Chase had promised he wouldn’t, but perhaps he couldn’t be trusted.

“For what it’s worth, it totally seems like he’s into you,” Lynn said carefully, taking a sip from her water bottle.

Phoebe leaned back against a box. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked at the picture again. She wondered how the press had gotten onto her efforts to restore Ivy House? And would this be the last of it? The story did mention Ivy Lane’s website. She’d already seen a jump in orders today. Perhaps, it would be good for business to play up this angle.

Lynn shook her head. “I don’t know, but I think the way he keeps showing up here, finding you at the flea market, buying all of that stuff…I think he wants to be with you. Phoebe Ryan—you—not anyone else.”

Phoebe wanted to believe her friend, she really did.