The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,33

of popcorn and they sat down to watch a movie, that Savannah had been herself. Just a woman, almost a grandmother. There was something sublime in it, to be in the presence of a legend, yet have her be relatively down-to-earth.

“Savannah knew that most of the time, there was someone watching her. And she was right. Makes it hard to be yourself. But she could sometimes be just herself with me. And that’s when you could get the real story.”

“Didn’t stop her from hooking up with just about everyone under the sun,” Chase pointed out.

“Well, she always said you couldn’t kiss a ghost.”

Chase smiled at that, a genuine smile, and Phoebe felt her stomach do a quick flip-flop. She was finding it very easy to forget that this was a guy who admitted he wanted something from her.

“Guess there’s something to that,” he said, taking another long sip of his beer.

Two menus had appeared in front of them, but Phoebe didn’t touch hers. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to stick around with him. She was pretty certain that Chase Sanders didn’t do things just to be a nice guy. He wanted something from her.

“So when are you most like yourself?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re not being the ice queen?”

“Ice queen?” Phoebe realized her mouth was set in a firm line.

Relax, she told herself, don’t let him get to you.

“Yeah, when you’re not all pissed about someone trying to buy your house. Or being possibly, sort of related to you. What do you like to do for fun?” Chase stood there, a big grin on his face as he watched her try to make sense of that.

“I thought you said we were trying to start over?” Phoebe stammered.

“We are. I want to get to know you. I want to get to know what makes Phoebe Ryan tick.” He leaned in as he said it and casually brushed her cheek with his hand as he tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of place back behind her ear. His touch was electric and Phoebe felt her skin burning. She looked up at Chase, who was no longer smiling at her, but looking at her speculatively.

She leaned back in her chair, aware that all of a sudden the taproom of the Osprey Arms was feeling crowded and warm. Chase gave her another smile, this one wolfish, as he looked at her with interest.

The heat, the intensity she had felt before, she hadn’t just been imagining it.

“Me, I like to sail,” Chase said slowly.

“Sail?” Phoebe managed to croak out. That would explain the expensive sunglasses and the way he was tan, even in the early spring in the Northeast.

“You know, a boat, with sails.” Chase had moved in closer so that he was almost whispering in her ear. The side of his face touched hers, his skin rough and charged against hers.

“Do you like the water?” he asked.

“I was a swimmer in high school,” Phoebe managed to stammer out.

“I kind of prefer to be on top of the water.” He had taken a step back, and she felt the pressure of the air around her lessen, felt able to breathe again.

“Is that what you do all day, sail?” Phoebe managed to ask.

He smiled. “Not exactly. Of course, I still have the boat. She’s a fine little sloop, pretty fast.”

“So you’re sleeping down at the marina?” Phoebe tried to imagine Chase crammed into the small cabin of his boat. Perhaps he swung a hammock up on deck and the thought almost made her giggle.

Chase nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Sometimes. It’s refreshing to be out on the water, even when you’re docked.”

There was an angry shout and a cheer from along the bar. It was mostly men, a cluster of young and old, mostly professionals, in button-downs and work slacks. Just about everyone’s attention was focused on the baseball game, and Phoebe figured that they were a group of mixed fans.

Phoebe realized that she and Chase had slid closer to each other, to hear better in the bar that was growing more crowded and becoming louder by the minute. She was sure she felt his knee pressing into the side of her thigh. When she looked up at him, she saw he had a lazy smile on his face.

She pushed herself away. Chase was an attractive guy, maybe a little too brawny for her. Unfairly, she compared him to Dean, who was lean, ripped, but could