The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,8

type. Ivy House had been a part of Savannah’s history, her happiest times. A place where Savannah had believed that anything was possible, until it wasn’t.

The reasonable, solid, practical thing to do would be to sell Ivy House. Phoebe had built her own life a whole country away, in Los Angeles, and if her prospects there were somewhat in flux, it made more sense to stay there than to think about moving her whole life here. Her practical, reasonable half pulled the envelope Chase had given her from her pocket, because selling Ivy House, even to someone who only wanted it for the view, was the smart thing to do. She didn’t belong here. This was Savannah’s history, not hers.

A picture of Savannah from long ago flashed into her mind, when Phoebe had been little, her red-gold hair in pigtails. She had been whispering to Savannah about how the house was magical. And Savannah had been in full, solemn agreement and had made her promise not to tell anyone else. Their secret.

Phoebe sighed again. Just what had Savannah gotten her into?

Chapter 6

Chase Sanders spun around aimlessly in his office chair. He was supposed to be looking over quarterly reports and making some decisions on what to include in the new product line, which, at this point, was looking pretty dismal. But he couldn’t concentrate. Not even the sight of the stiff breeze kicking up whitecaps on the harbor could distract him from thinking about her. The blond at Ivy House. Phoebe Ryan. He should have known the minute he’d seen her, but he had acted like a fool, making all sorts of inane remarks that had probably sounded like cheesy come-ons, which, in a way, had been just that.

The sight of her, it was a bit like staring at a ghost. Except he’d had an entirely different reaction between his legs than fear. Nope, no doubt about it. Phoebe Ryan was almost as much of a looker as her grandmother had been in her day.

Still, that was all it was—a fully physical reaction to her. Her red-blond hair, the splay of freckles over her nose, the light blue eyes, the long, strong body. The way she had glanced at him coolly, obviously put out by his presence, but keeping her cool. She’d been wary, wondering what his game was. But he hadn’t told her anything beyond the fact that he was interested in the house.

He had at least remembered to offer his condolences, which were sincere. He didn’t hold anything against Savannah. In fact, his entire family just ignored the whole thing. Sort of pretended that Leland had never existed. His grandmother had even remarried, so Chase hadn’t realized that Grandpa Sal was really just a stepgrandpa. And with a different last name than Leland, Chase had gone through most of his life without giving his connection, however tenuous, with Leland another thought.

Well, she’d probably figure it out soon enough, and then the game would be up. Well, the game would be up as soon as she would look at his card. If she ever did. She seemed adamant about not wanting to sell the house, which meant that the Historical Commission would be up in arms. They were naturally distrustful of outsiders, and a blond Californian had them all in a dither. They were afraid the new owner was going for a tear down. So, Chase had valiantly decided to play the white knight and rescue Ivy House from the West Coaster who didn’t know a gable from a cupola.

It hadn’t worked quite as smoothly as he hoped. Phoebe had seemed a bit stuck-up, not melting into his charm. Chase, with some satisfaction, had yet to find a red-blooded female who didn’t give in to it. But Phoebe had just kept looking at him like he had two heads. He was trying to concentrate on paperwork, but all he could do was shuffle around the documents so incoherently and roughly that he knocked over his paperweight, which hit the floor like his jaw had when he first glimpsed Phoebe Ryan.

“That’s a way to make a mess,” Noah Randall said as he walked into Chase’s office, “and not much else. What’s eating you?”

Chase felt sheepish as he looked at his oldest friend. “It’s nothing.”

Noah, tall, slim, with light brown hair, laughed. “Sounds like girl trouble to me. What’s her name? Beth, Bethany?”

“Ha.” Chase gave a halfhearted laugh as Noah threw himself into one of the chairs on the other side