The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,23

had nothing to do but to worry about the large white box he held.

Phoebe swallowed, not sure whether she should follow her nose, which was currently fixated on the smell emanating from the box, or focus on the smug look on Chase’s face as he looked down at her from behind his sunglasses.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his grin turning positively cocky.

“What for?” she said, tucking her sample book back into her bag, trying to feign indifference, though she knew exactly what she should say thank you for.

“Are you always this unfriendly towards your customers?” he asked.

Phoebe pursed her lips. No she wasn’t. When someone bought one of her designs, she prided herself on saying thank you. But somehow, the words were having a hard time coming where Chase was concerned.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, turning and starting to walk. With catlike grace, Chase was up from the wall and following her. Her nose twitched and she couldn’t help but glance at the box he held.

“The Dory’s chocolate-chip cookies. Best on the planet,” he said, his tone sober.

She stopped. “You’re serious?”

“I never joke about these chocolate-chip cookies. The recipe is some old family secret and is guarded better than the gold in Fort Knox here,” he said and easily peeled open the box. The aroma of baked goods was overpowering and Phoebe swallowed her desire.

“Try this.” Chase held out a cookie.

“No way. That thing is huge. It’s practically the size of my head.”

He looked down and shrugged. “Half the time they’re the size of my head. But that never stops anyone. Trust me.”

Chase had pushed his sunglasses back up on his head and she could see the teasing look in his eyes. Good sense and fear of death by chocolate warred against the goddess of hedonism as she took the cookie.

She took a bite, aware that Chase was watching her intently. She chewed, swallowed, and took another bite.

“Oh, wow,” she said, around a mouthful of sinfully velvet chocolate and smooth dough. “That really is good.”

She took another couple of bites, letting the chocolate chunks sit on her tongue and melt. Phoebe was aware of something. She opened her eyes and saw Chase staring at her with a heated look. She was aware that she had let every nuance of how the cookie was affecting her show on her face. Hurriedly, she swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried to compose herself.

“I told you so,” he said, smiling. Phoebe barely listened to him. Here she was in the middle of the street eating an entire chocolate-chip cookie. There was pretty much no way Chase was going to get this back from her.

“Sinfully good,” she muttered, letting her tongue find another bit of chocolate to melt away in her mouth. A couple, strolling hand in hand, walked past them, the woman giving Phoebe a strange look.

Phoebe glanced up at Chase. He was leaning in again, watching her, and there was the unmistakable air of amusement about him.

Self-conscious, she looked down. She’d eaten more than half the cookie, which wasn’t a surprise since she’d skipped breakfast this morning. Too keyed up about the sales call, she’d only had coffee.

“What?” she asked, feeling shy all of a sudden. It was not like her to take cookies from someone she barely knew. Especially someone she’d recently been yelling at.

“You have a little bit of chocolate there,” he said. She licked her lips, trying to find it, and Chase straightened up, his eyes on her.

“Not quite there,” he said. “A little farther up, towards the corner.” She found it and it was gone, but she saw that Chase’s eyes had lost their amused spark and that he was now looking at her entirely differently.

“What?” Phoebe took another bite.

“Just a bit there,” he said and reached in, his finger hovering near her cheek before it gently made contact. It was a feather-light touch, but it made her insides sit up and take notice. Her stomach clenched and rolled, and the two of them were frozen for a moment, looking at each other.

“Excuse me,” a voice broke in and Chase’s hand was gone from her cheek. Phoebe’s stomach seemed to right itself, but not without leaving her feeling a bit dizzy. Too much coffee, she thought, even as the voice kept talking.

“I was wondering from where you got that cookie.” It was the woman who had just walked past with a look of disdain on her face, and now she and her husband were standing there, looking at