The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,62

She savored the calm, trying to drink it in, wash way the nerves she was feeling every time Chase’s arm brushed against hers.

“They put this all together pretty quickly for you,” Phoebe said. They were eating lunch, an array of bread, cheeses, and sandwiches set out before them. Chase had appeared with a bottle of cold white wine, and Phoebe accepted a glass, as much to settle her nerves as anything else.

“Nothing beats a sail and a picnic lunch. Hard to do it, though.”

“Why?”

Chase shrugged. “Work, life. You get older, busier, seems like it gets harder and harder to take a couple of days off to go sailing.”

“What about your girlfriends?”

“Girlfriends?” One of Chase’s eyebrows quirked up.

“You know, the ones you’re always photographed with?” Phoebe asked pointedly.

“Ahh. Well, those. Somehow, I never seem to meet any who actually like to go sailing. They all say they do, but they think I mean on a motor boat. Once they realize that you have to do some work and that the cabin on any boat can be a bit cramped and that it’s not all that glamorous, they always seem to get out of sailing.”

“Guess you’ve been seeing the wrong ladies.”

“If that was your way of asking if I am seeing someone right now, the answer is no. And, you, of all people, should know that the media has a way of exaggerating things.”

“So you’re not quite the playboy you’ve been made out to be.”

Chase shrugged. “Let’s just say those pictures are pretty much the whole story. I go out, I get photographed, and then my companion and I part ways, the press to the benefit of the both of us, but no further strings attached.”

Embarrassed and relieved at the same time, Phoebe looked out at the water. She saw something swimming, a little head poking above the water, leaving a v-shaped wake. Once it got closer, she saw that it was a turtle. The little guy swam right past them, not even sparing them a glance.

“Ah, hell.” She looked up and saw that Chase was looking at the sky. The clouds they had noticed before had rolled in, piling up with dark gray underbellies.

“Is it going to rain?” The words were barely out of her mouth when one large, fat raindrop fell into the cockpit.

“Here, get this stuff below,” Chase said. “I’ll take care of the sail.”

Phoebe felt the wind getting kicky too, tossing the trees that ringed the cove, the light undersides of the leaves dancing in the wind.

She gathered up their lunch and brought it down to the table in the cabin below. She dashed back up, grabbed the bottle of wine and their water, and pulled down the hatch as soon as the rain began in earnest, a great sheet of soaking water.

Phoebe stood in the small galley, setting up their lunch again on the small table, while the boat rocked beneath her. Rain lashed against the portholes and she saw Chase’s feet flash by. Then, there was a movement and he was in the cabin with her, big and wet. He was soaked to the skin.

“Ahh, you saved the wine. Nothing to do but to ride this out. I thought we had a bit longer, but the faster it comes, the faster it will pass by, I suppose. There might be some thunder and lightning, but I think we’ll be safe here.”

“I’m not worried,” Phoebe said, though the boat gave a bit of a lurch, and she thought she heard a boom of thunder in the distance.

“Good. I’m going to find a dry shirt.” He pushed past her towards the rear cabin, where the main bunk was. He didn’t close the door and she could see him rummaging for a shirt, and then she got a glance of him as he crossed both arms over his back and hiked the shirt up. Muscles rippled in synchronicity, and she had a full glimpse of his flat stomach and the muscles that ringed it.

Phoebe felt her breath hitch and a tingle of lust shoot through her. No, she hadn’t forgotten just how hot Chase was; she just thought that she wouldn’t have to confront the shirtless proof of it.

Rain slammed against the porthole and then he was there, crowding into the small galley space. He reached behind her and poured a little more wine into their glasses. He was so close that she could feel the heat rising off him, smell his rain-slicked skin.

“We’ll be OK,” he said.

“I’m fine,”