The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,51

up in a ponytail and her glasses on, she looked more like a college student than a resident just a year or so out from being a doctor.

“I know, genius.” Phoebe agreed. The Masters’ family room was comfortable: a two-story space with a fireplace, overstuffed leather couches, and plenty of blankets to curl up with. Family pictures, including plenty of Lynn and her brother Kyle, decorated the shelves along with books and a few knickknacks, keeping the room simple and uncluttered.

“So which one are we going to watch fist?” Lynn held up two DVD cases.

“Mystic Moon, definitely,” Phoebe said. “I think that one is my all-time favorite.”

“Oh, good. Mine too.” Lynn got up, popped it into the DVD player and flopped back down.

“I just love the costumes in this one. And Roger Dailey was such a hottie.”

“She slept with him, you know? Before Leland, of course.” Phoebe couldn’t resist.

Lynn turned to her, her brown eyes big. “Really. That’s so cool. I mean that you know all this stuff. It’s like sitting here with Leonard Maltin, or that guy who runs the Actor’s Studio and getting the blow-by-blow account.

Phoebe smiled. Even though Lynn was two years younger than she was, Phoebe was already feeling like she had made a true friend, something that had proved a bit elusive in her harried life in Los Angeles. Sure, she had colleagues and girls she went out with, but it seemed like there was always an undercurrent of competition with them. Whose design was going to get picked, which guy at the bar would take an interest in them, who had gotten the best purse or designer shoes.

At first, it had been exciting to be part of such a whirlwind and it had seemed to feed her creativity, but Phoebe had come to feel that it was more draining than energizing, and she’d felt that her inspiration had begun to suffer because of it.

“Well, you wouldn’t believe what I found then.”

Lynn’s nose twitched while she thought about it. “The hat she wore in Ghost Ship.”

Phoebe smiled as she explained what she and Chase had found in the attic of Ivy House.

“Wow, oh wow,” Lynn breathed. “Do you realize how cool that is? Cool and valuable.”

“Valuable?” Phoebe tensed a little.

“Yeah, to movie buffs. Not to be morbid, but since Savannah died, the online auction sites have been going crazy with her stuff—you know, autographs, movie posters. But there isn’t much of it out there.”

“Probably because she kept it all in that attic,” Phoebe said.

“Well, I bet it’s filled with cool stuff. Let me know if you want any help going through it.”

Phoebe nodded. She hadn’t thought much about the attic because she’d been busy working on her designs for North Coast Outfitters. And not to mention the fact that every time her phone rang or an email popped up, she had hoped it was something from him. Not a word from him, not unless you counted the crews of workmen he kept sending her way. Someone to haul the junk, the floors, even a lawn guy. Still, there hadn’t been any presence of Chase himself for days.

“My favorite part,” Lynn breathed a few moments later as Savannah Ryan and Roger Dailey kissed for the first time onscreen. Actually, the scene that had made it into the movie had been their tenth take. Savannah had confessed that she’d kept messing it up because she enjoyed the way he kissed. It had been before Leland Harper, if Phoebe remembered correctly, and Savannah had made a practice of sleeping with all of her costars.

“Chase kissed me.” Phoebe didn’t know why she said it. Perhaps it was the glass of wine she had already finished or watching the kiss on the screen that forced her to say aloud what she had been remembering for days. The bruising passion of Chase and his lips on her.

“What!” Lynn took the remote, paused the movie, so that Savannah and Rodger were frozen mid-kiss, and looked at her.

“Umm, why didn’t you lead with that? So amazing. Is he a good kisser? I mean, he must be. He’s just sex on a stick, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Phoebe sighed. She looked into her wine glass. There was no denying it. The kiss had been hot. Even now, at the memory of it, her whole body tingled, reliving the surge of electricity and lust that had shot through her while she was in his arms. She’d barely been able to think, glad that he had left her,