The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,67

her looking at him, and he flashed the smile, the one that made her toes curl and her stomach clench. She held his gaze and she could feel herself frown, the sadness growing on her face. Before she could dwell on that anymore, Lynn pulled her into a movie trivia game against her mother and Caitlyn.

“That was awesome,” Lynn said at the end of the game. Phoebe had won hands down, easily beating Lynn’s mother, who was shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’ve never beaten her,” Lynn said. “Not once.”

Caitlyn laughed, but Phoebe could see that she looked tired. Noah wandered over at that moment.

“I think it’s time I took my wife home.” Noah thanked the Masters and then turned to Chase. “You heading back to the village?”

“Yes, in a moment,” he said. He too thanked the Masters, told Lynn to give him a call about the kid’s fair, and then turned to Phoebe. They stood awkwardly. She was aware that everyone seemed to have drifted off to give them some privacy, but Phoebe kept her distance.

“I had a nice time,” she said, her voice even. He looked at her, a strange smile playing on his lips. He glanced over her shoulder and then took a step towards her. When she began to move back, he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his for a hot kiss. He broke away and whispered in her ear, “I feel like a teenager saying good night to my prom date.”

His head gestured and Phoebe turned. Mrs. Masters was hovering, her motherly instincts kicking into overdrive.

“Not at my prom,” Phoebe whispered. “I was eighteen and a legal adult and no one cared what I did or who I did it with.”

“Does that mean you’ll come back to my boat with me?” Chase asked.

Phoebe took a step back, remembering what she had felt earlier. She and Chase had an undeniable attraction, which they had officially satisfied. And that was it. It had to be. They couldn’t possibly want the same things. She had to be careful here; otherwise, she would get hurt.

“Not tonight,” Phoebe said.

“You’re sure you don’t want to see where this takes us?” Chase said, his look smoldering into her.

Phoebe jerked her head in the direction of the Masters’ house.

Chase glanced over her shoulder and Phoebe could all but feel Mrs. Masters’ concerned gaze boring into her. “Perhaps tonight is not the best night for it.” He agreed, and she felt a rush of disappointment.

“I could always sneak out after they’ve gone to bed,” she said as she leaned up into him, “…come meet you.”

“Tempting as that may be, I don’t think you’ll get far. Until next time?”

His lips brushed quickly and fiercely against hers and he was gone, disappearing into the dark of the night, towards the street, his car, and the short drive to the marina.

Chapter 30

Chase could kick himself. He tossed and turned in his bed, thinking how easy it would have been to go back and wait for Phoebe to slip out of the house. She was a grown woman and he was a grown man. Neither of them were teenagers, but he knew that Dr. Masters wouldn’t go for it. He barely let his own daughter out of his sight, and he wasn’t going to let Phoebe go wandering off either.

She had seemed happy tonight. A bit skittish at first, sitting there with his friends and with Lynn, but later she had begun to relax. He wondered if she could be happy away from her life in Hollywood. Queensbay wasn’t exactly a backwater, but glittering parties and palm trees weren’t a part of their repertoire. Would dinners at the Yacht Club and afternoon sails be enough for her?

Chase wondered why he was worried about that. This afternoon had been intense, more than intense; it had been the best sex of his life. He wasn’t a choir boy, by any means, but he’d certainly been pickier than he’d let people believe when it came to actually getting into bed with a woman. Sure, the image of a playboy suited him and his company: a sailor with a girl at every port. The image had been created a long time ago to help him get endorsements for his sailing career and it had seemed to work when he took over North Coast Outfitters.

But it meant he generally met a certain kind of woman. Tall, athletic, gorgeous, but usually with an agenda, one that included using him to