The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) (18 page)

The moon was full and it came in through the window, suffusing the room with light. Phoebe sparkled like silver and he brought her to him, kissing her gently, sweetly. Slowly, he undressed her, reverently addressing her body with his mouth, feasting slowly and fully on her. Something had changed for him and he wanted to savor her. So far, whenever he had been with her, it had been wild and passionate, the ice queen with the fire dragon underneath. But tonight, now, he wanted to savor every minute of her. When she tried to rush him, he just shook his head and held her hands, letting his fingers brush over her, gently teasing and testing, watching her as the pressure built, knowing she was practically begging for release. Still, he decided to torment her a little more, taking his time as his hands roamed over her, as she writhed and moaned with pleasure.

Finally, she sat up and pulled him to her. “Now,” she whispered, and when he smiled, she said, “Please, I need you.”

He was undone then and he pushed himself into her slowly, feeling her hot wetness close around him, hiding him tight. He pulled in and out slowly, and as her hips rose up to meet him, he moved faster and she matched his rhythm. Thrust for thrust, they moved together in a slow, steady beat, pushing them higher and higher towards the edge. They reached it together and he gave one more moan and dove into her fully, and he watched as her eyes filled with pleasure. He held back no longer and followed her over the edge.

Afterwards, they lay together, and she fell asleep beside him, curled around him and, for once, he hadn’t been thinking of the best way to disentangle himself without waking the woman next to him and making his escape.

No, instead, all he wanted to do was pull her closer to him, breathe in the scent of her hair, feel the rise and fall of her chest underneath his hands. He had stayed that way, unable to sleep, trying to understand just why he felt this way about a woman whom he’d only known a short time. This was totally different from what he had felt about the other women he’d let into his life.

Now he lay awake in the early hours of the morning, listening to the sway of the branches outside the window, hearing the sound of a warning buoy gently toll in the distance. He’d understood what she said about love. His own parents were reasonably happy, but he’d never given much thought to what he wanted. He had been too focused on winning at sailing and building his business to get entangled emotionally.

None of his other girlfriends had stayed long, and he’d grown tired of them long before he found some way to set them free gently or they’d wised-up and gotten out. Phoebe wasn’t fragile or a delicate flower. She didn’t need to be protected. She was self-contained. Talented.

Phoebe hadn’t held back on him tonight. He’d finally had all of her; she’d given freely. He didn’t want to let that go. That realization made him pull her tighter to him, causing him to kiss her hair, trace a finger down her bare back, relieved to see the way she murmured and turned, arched towards him.

Chase wasn’t sure whether he’d ever have enough of her, the way her red-gold hair blew in the wind or her blue eyes sparkled when she found something she thought was beautiful or interesting or the way her nose scrunched up and her freckles blended together when she concentrated. He knew that he’d bought his way into her life. She wouldn’t have stayed if he hadn’t offered her a job.

He fought against that thought as he kissed the nape of her neck, running his hand along her spine, cupping her buttocks to him, until she turned, her eyes awake, her mouth reaching for him. Chase wrapped himself around her, nudged her legs gently open, and pushed all thoughts of tomorrow away for the moment.

Chase rolled the living room rug up to the legs of the couch and draped a drop cloth over it all.

“What are you doing?” Phoebe said, appearing in the doorway. She had slept later than she had meant to and woken to an empty bed and the smell of coffee. She had brushed her teeth, but skipped the shower. Her phone had been lying on the table next to her and she flipped through it. That’s when she had seen it.

“You said you’re ready to paint in here.”

“You’re painting?”

He looked at her. She had wrapped her robe tightly around her as if that could be her armor against him and the world.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

She forced herself to keep calm. “I take it you haven’t checked your phone today.”

He shot her a smile. “I was otherwise occupied.” He took a step towards her.

She held up her hand. “Don’t.”

Concern creased his face as he looked around. His phone was on the shelf and he walked over, flipped it on, and scanned it.

“Phoebe,” he looked up.

She shook her head. “This has your fingerprints all over it, Chase. How else would they have known where to get those photos! God, I’m practically naked in one of them.”

“You’re in a bikini. A really hot bikini, I might add,” Chase said.

Phoebe fought down the tears that had threatened to overtake her. The press had gotten a hold of their relationship and their business partnership. It was personal and detailed, rehashing everything about Savannah and Leland, Phoebe’s parents, Ivy House, and the deal she and Chase had struck.

There were half a dozen pictures of them kissing, holding hands, and sunbathing on Chase’s boat. There were even pictures of Savannah and Leland and the whole history.

“This is the kind of publicity money can’t buy.” Phoebe shook her head. “Sure beats dating the odd model for this kind of press. I hope you’re happy.”

Anger darkened Chase’s face and his eyes turned almost black. “You think I did this?”

“Who else? Who else would know this stuff? Where to find us, or all of these details about Savannah and my parents? They even have my favorite ice cream. I told you no press and you let them into our lives. Into this. I thought we had…”

Phoebe broke off before she embarrassed herself. Chase had never promised her anything more than a good time. Light and sweet. And she should have never expected more from him. But somewhere along the line, she opened herself up to him, thinking that maybe there could be something more between them.

“Look, Phoebe.”

“Save it. I asked one thing of you…that this would be private…”

“I’m sorry, I had…” Chase looked contrite, she would give him that.

Phoebe shook her head. “All my life, people have wanted to be with me, get close to me because of my family. They didn’t care that I collect salt shakers or that I love mint chocolate chip ice cream or that I’m ticklish. They never cared about me, only what I could do for them.”

“I’m sorry.” He was angry now. “Look, I’ll talk to my PR guy, straighten it out. Listen, babe.” He walked over to her and rubbed her arm. “I’ll take care of it. It will be fine.”

Phoebe swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. “Don’t, please don’t. Just go. I can’t do this.”

“Phoebe!” Chase looked at her, but she turned and pointed towards the door.

“Fine.” He came closer to her. “I’ll give you some time to think it over.”

Chase felt no better after yelling at his PR director. Sam Waterstone had sworn the story hadn’t been entirely his doing. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, and Chase had never objected before when a picture of him and a date showed up online or in the papers. So, Sam had given in and now the media had it, and they loved the parallel between Chase and Phoebe and Leland and Savannah. In fact, all of America loved the parallel, from what Chase could see.

Chase refused all requests for an interview, which he knew might only make the story grow faster. But he didn’t know what else to do. He knew if he said anything, his words would be twisted, and the media would make his relationship with Phoebe into a big deal. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. He didn’t want her to think he was in it just for the benefit to his bottom line.

Chase swung around in his office chair, thinking about Phoebe. The way she had looked at him, a look full of betrayal. She had told him how much she hated being used because of her connection with Savannah. How she wanted to make a name for herself, on her own. And now it seemed as if he was doing just that for his business because sales had gone up fifty percent since the story broke, and Chase knew that this was the kind of exposure that would cost millions of dollars to buy. And here he had it because of a few pictures of him and Phoebe kissing.

He looked again at those. Someone had gotten them with a long-range lens, a picture of a heated embrace, in front of Ivy House. And then, of course, the reporter had dug up another picture of Leland and Savannah in almost the same pose, in almost the exact same place. Chase hadn’t wanted to read the comments section, but he did and stopped when he saw red. Had people no sense of decency? He wanted to punch some of these guys for what they were saying about Phoebe. It was complimentary, but lewd. Didn’t they know she was taken?

But was she? She had all but kicked him out this morning. And all he had wanted to do was help her paint. Or let other people do it while he took her for another sail. There was a side creek he had wanted to explore, and he thought he could convince her to enjoy a lazy afternoon of sun and other things.

Would she let him back in? Could he convince her that this hadn’t been his doing? Or that it was to her benefit? Every story mentioned her designs and she would have to benefit from all the press too. Chase checked his phone. He had left her half a dozen messages, but she hadn’t returned any of them. Anymore messages and he would be considered a stalker. He got up. Sitting in his office wasn’t doing any good. He needed to go fix things.

“I saw Chase,” Lynn said as she opened another box. Phoebe’s things had started to arrive from California and Lynn was helping her unpack. “He stopped by the clinic; we had a thank you ceremony for all the sponsors.”

It had been almost a week since the story broke and she had been hounded by calls from reporters. She had refused them all, even unplugging her phone and letting everything on her cell go to voicemail. Besides, she’d been too busy trying to fill all the new orders that were coming in. The story had been good for business, just as Chase had said it would be.

Phoebe stiffened and then said nonchalantly, “He was one of the sponsors, so it was nice of him to come.”

Lynn looked at her in the fading light. “I don’t think he was there to check up on his donation.”

Phoebe shrugged, trying to show that she didn’t care. Why, then, did she want to cry all of a sudden?

“I think you should talk to him.”

“What?”

“He looked upset.”

Phoebe snorted. “He’s upset because his little ploy backfired. He knew…” Phoebe stopped herself.

“Look, I know you think he was using you because of Savannah and maybe that’s how it started, but I don’t think that’s the way it is. You didn’t see the look on his face.”

Phoebe swallowed.

“Lynn, I just can’t. I don’t think I can trust him again.”

Lynn was about to say something else, but there was a knock on the door. Phoebe looked up, her heart jumping.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Lynn asked. Phoebe shook her head tightly, but she knew, even as she walked to the door, that Chase wouldn’t have knocked.

“Dean.”

“Phoebe, there you are.” Standing on her porch was Dean Grant.

“Dean.” She gave him a hug, feeling a small surge of pleasure. All of a sudden, it felt nice to see an old friend.

Dean gave her his typical European greeting, a kiss on each cheek, before holding her at arm’s length.

“The salt air seems to agree with you,” Dean said. He was impeccably dressed, as always, in a light jacket, matching trousers, a robin’s-egg blue shirt, with a paisley pocket square that complemented everything.

Phoebe was glad that the dusk hid her flush. She knew that Dean was lying. If anything, the recent turmoil with Chase had left her with some sleepless nights.

“Dean, this is my friend Lynn Masters.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dean said politely, but all his attention was on Phoebe.

“You haven’t returned any of my phone calls. And…” he lowered his voice, with a glance at Lynn, “I need to speak with you.”

Phoebe sighed. She didn’t know if Dean was being dramatic, but she hadn’t returned his phone calls either, which, he supposed, was why she needed to be tracked down.

“OK,” Phoebe said. Dean hesitated.

“You know what, why don’t I just clean up this stuff for you,” Lynn said. “You two can just run along.”

Dean flashed a smile of perfectly white teeth. “An excellent idea. How about dinner, Phoebe? There’s this cute little place up the road, the Osprey Arms? Do you know it?”

Did she ever, but Phoebe just nodded. She wasn’t exactly dressed for dinner, but it was Dean and not a date, so she supposed that in a few minutes, she could make herself presentable.

Dean had waited for her patiently at the house while she cleaned herself up, and then they walked down to the Osprey Arms together. For a moment she panicked, but then calmed down. She was pretty certain she wouldn’t run into Chase because he mostly ate in his room. And so what if she did?

“So, Chase Sanders?” Dean looked at her over his scotch, his gaze unreadable.

Phoebe didn’t really want to talk about her involvement with Chase, so she took a sip of her wine instead.

“Last I heard, you thought the man was the devil incarnate,” Dean pointed out, but his voice didn’t hold any bit of lightness.

“Things change,” Phoebe hedged.

“They do. I leave you alone for a couple of weeks, and I find you’re reliving the romance of the century. In every way?”

Phoebe decided to ignore that question. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, but there was no use denying the fact that there was something downright date-like about the corner table and the low lights of the Osprey Arms’ formal dining room.

Phoebe smiled at that. “It’s like you said: the fresh air, springtime. It does something to a girl.”

“Well, I hope that your designing is going well?”

“I’ve been working on some designs,” Phoebe hedged.

“You know, I’ve been talking with CallieSue. She’s very intrigued now…” Dean said.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? I told you I wasn’t interested in working with her.” Phoebe felt her blood began to heat. CallieSue had probably gotten “intrigued” with her as soon as all the press hit. She wasn’t some no-name designer now. She was a bit of a celebrity herself.

“Just a moment.” Dean held up a calming hand.

“I don’t think CallieSue has developed a better sense of style in the last couple of weeks.” The waiter arrived with their first course: a salad for her and soup for Dean.

He took a look at the bowl, sniffed and shrugged, as if resigned to indifferent food since he was outside of a city.

“Not bad,” he proclaimed, and she had to wait as he had added a pinch of pepper and had another spoonful. In the meantime, she pushed the leaves of lettuce around her plate as she waited for Dean to get to the point.

“Be that as it may, I think she’s more inclined to listen to your ideas now.” Dean stopped and put his hand out and covered hers. She was surprised by his gesture.

“Phoebe, I care about you. You know that I have only ever had your best interests at heart.”

“What are you talking about?” Phoebe felt her heart race a bit in her chest.

“Well, it’s not just CallieSue who is interested.”

Something in Phoebe stirred. She knew that this was why Dean was here. He had something bigger to tell her.

Dean smiled, as if reading her mind. “Listen, I know you must miss your life in Los Angeles and here’s the perfect chance. You won’t have to ride the Savannah coattails—you’ll be your own woman. I know how important that is to you; I realize that now.”

Phoebe was flabbergasted. “Dean, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Really, it’s just the truth,” Dean said with a smile, his spoon hovering over his soup.

“So who is it?” Phoebe said, even more overwhelmed. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she should have expected.

Dean leaned in and whispered the name. Phoebe looked at him, aware that her mouth had dropped.

“But that’s huge…she’s already…she goes by one name.”

Dean smiled, enjoying her reaction.

“Why me?” Phoebe managed to whisper.

“Why?” Dean threw back his head and laughed. “Because you’re talented.” His hand reached across the table and touched hers. She fought the urge to pull it back from him, and his smile was more than just a smile, seductive almost. “How many times have I told you that?”

“All the time.” Phoebe managed to remove her hand and dropped it into her lap. Her heart was beating fast. “So, back to Los Angeles?” It was a tremendous opportunity, one she would have killed for even just a few weeks ago.

“Yes. She’s based there, so she would definitely expect you to be there, plus she’s going on tour in a month, and I think you can expect a fair amount of traveling as well, so you two can continue to work together.” Dean scraped up the last bit of soup and looked at her.

“Oh, you’re worried about, what, the house here. I am sure you could get a good price for it. It’s a waterfront property, right? Or I suppose you could keep it as a vacation retreat, fly back a couple of times a year.”

Phoebe thought longingly of her dark-stained floors, newly finished and gleaming, a rug thrown casually over them, just begging to welcome some furniture, and Ivy House, begging to welcome happiness and life back into it.

“Only a couple of times a year?” Phoebe asked.

“Well, of course. Look, it’s a big job, and I need to know that you’re all in with me on this before I go back to her. It would mean a lot of money, prestige. You could do anything you want. Maybe a TV show and certainly a full line of housewares sold at a major store. The sky’s the limit. Already, the press is buzzing about the possibility.”

“Dean, that’s so generous of you.” Phoebe was at a loss for words, for not only had she thought of Ivy House but also had a fleeting thought of Chase. If she went back to Los Angeles, would she see him again? Would he miss her as much as she would miss him?

Savannah’s words came ringing back to her:
Never rearrange your life for a man…

Smiling, Phoebe reached out and took Dean’s hand. “You’ll let me think on it for a few days?”

Dean smiled and brought her hand to his mouth for a quick friendly kiss. “I knew you’d come around.”