The Ivy House

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 help themselves. Phoebe was the first whose arm he’d had to practically twist to take his help. And she was making it difficult by not allowing him to use her connection to Savannah. Still, he could understand her desire to make it on her own.

Chase tossed the covers off and got out of bed. He wasn’t going to sleep anyway. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he walked into the living room and threw himself on the couch, where he could look out and see the water. The lights of the marina were dimmed now, and boats bobbed peacefully in their slips. It was calm, quiet, and well ordered, and when he had come here as a kid to work in his dad’s store, he had dreamed of this. Of looking over it all and wanting it, wanting it to be his. And now he had it. But it just wasn’t enough anymore.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair. It was almost morning: time for him to get up, maybe take a run, work out some of these kinks.

Truth was, it wasn’t enough anymore because he wanted something more. Sure, he thought it had been the house, but once he had seen her, all of a sudden, it had been her. He wanted Phoebe Ryan, in his bed, but now he wasn’t ready to let her go.

As the sun rose, its rosy fingers painting streaks in the gray dawn sky, he smiled. He had a plan. Every good sailor needed a course, a strategy to get from A to B, to win the race. And if there was one thing he was good at, it was taking his time and working a plan.