The Queensbay Series: Books 1-4: The Queensbay Box Set

by Drea Stein

  Phoebe decided to ignore that question. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, but there was no use denying the fact that there was something downright date-like about the corner table and the low lights of the Osprey Arms’ formal dining room.

  Phoebe smiled at that. “It’s like you said: the fresh air, springtime. It does something to a girl.”

  “Well, I hope that your designing is going well?”

  “I’ve been working on some designs,” Phoebe hedged.

  “You know, I’ve been talking with CallieSue. She’s very intrigued now...” Dean said.

  “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? I told you I wasn’t interested in working with her.” Phoebe felt her blood began to heat. CallieSue had probably gotten “intrigued” with her as soon as all the press hit. She wasn’t some no-name designer now. She was a bit of a celebrity herself.

  “Just a moment.” Dean held up a calming hand.

  “I don’t think CallieSue has developed a better sense of style in the last couple of weeks.” The waiter arrived with their first course: a salad for her and soup for Dean.

  He took a look at the bowl, sniffed and shrugged, as if resigned to indifferent food since he was outside of a city.

  “Not bad,” he proclaimed, and she had to wait as he had added a pinch of pepper and had another spoonful. He took another spoonful, and she could tell that he was actually enjoying himself. In the meantime, she pushed the leaves of what she was sure was organic, locally grown, lettuce around her plate as she waited for Dean to get to the point.

  “Be that as it may, I think she’s more inclined to listen to your ideas now.” Dean stopped and put his hand out and covered hers. She was surprised by his gesture.

  “Phoebe, I care about you. You know that I have only ever had your best interests at heart.”

  “What are you talking about?” Phoebe felt her heart race a bit in her chest.

  “Well, it’s not just CallieSue who is interested.”

  Something in Phoebe stirred. She knew that this was why Dean was here. He had something bigger to tell her.

  Dean smiled, as if reading her mind. “Listen, I know you must miss your life in Los Angeles and here’s the perfect chance. You won’t have to ride the Savannah coattails—you’ll be your own woman. I know how important that is to you; I realize that now.”

  Phoebe was flabbergasted. “Dean, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Really, it’s just the truth,” Dean said with a smile, his spoon hovering over his soup.

  “So who is it?” Phoebe said, even more overwhelmed. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she should have expected.

  Dean leaned in and whispered the name. Phoebe looked at him, aware that her mouth had dropped.

  “But that’s huge…she’s already…she goes by one name.”

  Dean smiled, enjoying her reaction.

  “Why me?” Phoebe managed to whisper.

  “Why?” Dean threw back his head and laughed. “Because you’re talented.” His hand reached across the table and touched hers. She fought the urge to pull it back from him, and his smile was more than just a smile, seductive almost. “How many times have I told you that?”

  “All the time.” Phoebe managed to remove her hand and dropped it into her lap. Her heart was beating fast. “So, back to Los Angeles?” It was a tremendous opportunity, one she would have killed for even just a few weeks ago.

  “Yes. She’s based there, so she would definitely expect you to be there, plus she’s going on tour in a month, and I think you can expect a fair amount of traveling as well, so you two can continue to work together.” Dean scraped up the last bit of soup and looked at her.

  “Oh, you’re worried about, what, the house here. I am sure you could get a good price for it. It’s a waterfront property, right? Or I suppose you could keep it as a vacation retreat, fly back a couple of times a year.”

  Phoebe thought longingly of her dark-stained floors, newly finished and gleaming, a rug thrown casually over them, just begging to welcome some furniture, and Ivy House, begging to welcome happiness and life back into it.

  “Only a couple of times a year?” Phoebe asked.

  “Well, of course. Look, it’s a big job, and I need to know that you’re all in with me on this before I go back to her. It would mean a lot of money, prestige. You could do anything you want. Maybe a TV show and certainly a full line of housewares sold at a major store. The sky’s the limit. Already, the press is buzzing about the possibility.”

  “Dean, that’s so generous of you.” Phoebe was at a loss for words, for not only had she thought of Ivy House but also had a fleeting thought of Chase. If she went back to Los Angeles, would she see him again? Would he miss her as much as she would miss him?

  Savannah’s words came ringing back to her: Never rearrange your life for a man…

  Smiling, Phoebe reached out and took Dean’s hand. “You’ll let me think on it for a few days?”

  Dean smiled and brought her hand to his mouth for a quick friendly kiss. “I knew you’d come around.”

  Chapter 40

  Phoebe was daydreaming. Or thinking. She had started out the day productively enough, working on designs, but it was too lovely a day to be inside. So, she had wandered out to putter in the backyard and plant some of the annuals she had bought in her new flower pots.

  She sat on the stone step of the terrace, with the view of the harbor spread out below her, the sky a cloudless blue. Everything was peaceful, but her mind was whirling with the offer Dean had made her. After Savannah had died, it seemed like the last thing she wanted to do: go back and work for someone else. But now, here was an opportunity to work with a huge name, an international presence. A collaboration, Dean had said, with her name linked. Even more so than her North Coast Outfitters deal, it would jumpstart her business.

  She had told Dean she had a contract with Chase, and Dean had only smiled. “I am sure we can arrange something mutually satisfactory to both parties to get you free and clear. And back on a plane to Los Angeles. She wants to get started pronto.”

  Phoebe knew she needed to speak to Chase directly. See if he even cared that she would be backing out of their deal. At this point, he probably wouldn’t, would he? His phone calls and texts had started to tail off.

  Well, she had been the one to tell him to go, so she had no one to thank but herself. The gossip pages hadn’t slowed down one bit, and she was pretty sure that a photographer was stalking her. Instead, the papers kept going over Leland and Savannah’s affair and marriage, and drawing parallels to her and Chase.

  Well, she had known what she was getting into, right? Chase had all but told her that he was a player. That this was a no-strings-attached, heated affair, a giving into feelings—of lust—which they couldn’t ignore. But somewhere along the line, it had changed for her. Love. She wasn’t a lust type of girl. Sure, just the thought of Chase’s wolfish smile, deep-blue eyes, and dark tousled hair made her knees weak and panties wet, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to keep her going. She wanted a life, a real life, with someone she loved and who loved her.

  Maybe it didn’t have to be the house and white picket fence—goodness knows, Los Angeles wouldn’t be that. But perhaps it meant that she could find someone who wanted the same things she did: a committed relationship, a family. And what had Chase told her? Let’s just have a good time babe and see where it takes us.

  Well, it had taken her too far. She couldn’t sleep in her bed without being woken up by thoughts of Chase and memories of how they had been together. A hot flash of desire and loss seared through her, and she closed her eyes to clear out the memories. Maybe she needed a fresh start. Coming back to the past, to the place where she thought love lived, maybe she was kidding herself. It was just a house, not a piece of magic. She couldn’t get her parents back and maybe she couldn’t be happy here without Chase. Already too many bad memories.

  Chapter 4
1

  Footsteps crunching on the gravel path shook her out of her melancholy thoughts.

  “When were you going to tell me?” Chase came upon her suddenly. Phoebe reared back. She had been planting primroses in the empty planters that flanked the steps of the stone terrace.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Your new deal.” Chase tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but he saw her flinch.

  “How did you…”

  “You don’t think I read the business papers, the websites. Everyone’s all abuzz that the brilliant Phoebe Ryan is designing a collection with Serena, the hottest international pop and movie star. I thought you were over that, Phoebe. I thought you had committed to your own designs.”

  He pulled out his phone and showed her. Phoebe gasped. She had had no idea. There was a picture of her and Dean having dinner at the Osprey Arms, drinking champagne and the headline, “Phoebe Ryan makes a new conquest.” She couldn’t bear to read the rest.

  “It’s not…”

  Chase cut across her. “I understand. You’re a California girl, right. You can take the girl out of Hollywood, but you can’t take the Hollywood out of the girl. You’re putting your career first. Just like Savannah. I suppose this was a fun little game for you while you and your gentleman friend cooked up a way to make a big story out of it.”

  Now she rose up, truly angry. “You’re the one who told me it was no strings attached. You’re the one who said, ‘Hey, babe, let’s enjoy the moment’. And if I recall, it was your PR director who cooked up the ‘Romance of the Century, Part Two’ story. You’re the one who said our relationship was good for business.”

  Chase froze, his own words thrown back at him. “I…”

  “Look, I gave you your designs and you can use them however you want. You’ve already made sure the world knows exactly who I am, so feel free to say whatever you have to sell more of them. Our business deal has run its course.”

  “It wasn’t about the deal…” Chase said. She could see him fighting to keep calm and she felt her wall coming up, the one she retreated behind when she needed to avoid hurt.

  “What was I supposed to do, Chase? You made it clear that you were just in it for a good time. I need to think about my career. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Chase ran his hands through his hair. “I thought this…” and he gestured all around him, “meant something to you. What about your own designs, your work for North Coast Outfitters? Us?”

  “It’s just a house. A house that needs a lot of work. I need to keep moving forward.”

  “And going with him is that?” Chase asked, his voice quiet, his face hard.

  “This opportunity isn’t about that,” Phoebe corrected him. It wasn’t about Dean.

  “Well, then.” Chase looked at her, his eyes dark and hooded. “I guess I’ll wish you good luck.” She could hear his voice catch, but he pushed through.

  Phoebe felt her eyes glitter with sudden tears, but she stood firm, quiet.

  “Thank you. I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

  Chase laughed bitterly and swallowed, giving her one long last look before he turned and walked away.

  Phoebe watched him, not knowing if she had made the worst mistake of her life. How had it come to this? She knew that if he just turned around once, she would be undone; she would go to him, pull him to her, and beg him to forgive her, to take her right there, take whatever she had to offer. Even if it was a lust-only, no-strings-attached kind of a deal.

  Phoebe just sat on the rough stone step, the cold seeping through her jeans and into her body. The sun was setting and still she sat, letting the world go dark around her. That’s how she felt about her whole world. It hadn’t been ideal, how Chase had found out about Dean’s offer, but he hadn’t even let her discuss it with him, let her see how it might all work out. Because there was nothing left to work out. She thought what they had meant something. But then he had thrown it all in her face. What did she think that Playboy of the Month, Chase Sanders, was going to settle down with her in a small house overlooking the water and watch while she sewed pillows? That he would ever want to settle down, make a home, make a family? And with her, of all people?

  What had she been thinking? That she could undo Savannah’s mistakes? That somehow the Savannah–Leland history could be rewritten? It never would have worked out, she told herself. But if that were the case, then why did she feel like this? She’d made no final decision. She’d only be toying with the idea of going back to Los Angeles.

  Truth was that she hadn’t felt the kind of peace she’d felt in Queensbay in a long time. Ivy House had been a magical place to her and it still was. How could she leave it? But what choice did she have?

  Phoebe let her eyes travel over the sweeping expanse of the harbor, down its broad length, across the darkening shadows of its hills. The water had steeped into her, even in such a short time. It had allowed her to find her creativity again, to find her playfulness, to find more purpose. Or had it all been Chase? He’d never made any promises to her. In fact, he had been more than upfront about what he had wanted from her.

  “Phoebe? Are you OK?” Lynn’s voice called out, and she could hear footsteps coming around the path.

  Phoebe looked at her and wiped her face.

  “What happened?” Lynn came to her, a stethoscope still around her neck, in her scrubs with cartoon characters.

  “The bastard, what did he do?” She wrapped her arms around Phoebe and hugged her close.

  “It’s over,” Phoebe managed to say before letting the tears come.

  Chapter 42

  “Don’t you have someplace better to be?” Noah looked at him. Chase had wandered back to Noah’s house and was now in the barn, sipping a beer as he watched his friend sand down the bubbled varnish on the little skiff.

  “Work was a little slow,” Chase said and shrugged when he caught Noah’s disbelieving stare.

  “I’m the president of a multimillion-dollar company, and I can take the afternoon off and visit an old friend when I want to.”

  “Did you just call me old?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Chase scrubbed his hands through his hair. He hadn’t been able to sleep or think straight since his last conversation with Phoebe. It had gone even worse than the one before that. And she had thrown his words back in his face.

  “Do you think I’m afraid of commitment?” he asked.

  Noah looked startled and then he said carefully, “I think that in the past, you’ve been the type of guy who was offered a lot of options and hadn’t felt that any of them were right at the time.”

  “You make it sound like a business deal,” Chase said.

  “You look like hell,” Noah said affably. Chase knew he should have been irritated, but it was hard to ignore the truth.

  “It’s Phoebe.”

  Noah paused his sanding to take a swig of his own beer. “Thought it might be. What did you do this time?”

  “Why do you think it was me?” Chase said. “Maybe it was her.”

  Noah just looked at him.

  “What?”

  “Seems to me that she’s the kind of girl who wants someone who’s all in,” Noah said after a moment.

  “What do you mean, ‘all in’?”

  “Well, seems to me that she’s fixing up that house, trying to put down roots, and she wants to share it with someone—but really share it with someone. Not just a stranger passing through the night warming her sheets. Only thing casual about her is her decorating sense.”

  “So, she’s looking for someone to be all in?” Chase still wasn’t sure what Noah was talking about.

  “She’s looking for a commitment. Maybe it’s marriage, maybe it’s not. Never can tell these days, but she’s in love with you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Let’s just say I know how it feels to be in love with someone and not be sure how they feel about you. And to tell you the
truth, you have the same look about you.”

  “But she’s ready to close up everything here and move to Los Angeles, and she didn’t even tell me. She doesn’t want me. She’s putting her career ahead of me.”

  “Did you ever give her any reason not to?” Noah said. “Didn’t she get mad at you about the newspaper articles first? Did you ever give her any reason not to think that you weren’t just using her for your business?”

  “She knows I would never do that,” Chase said sharply.

  Noah shook his head. “Does she?”

  “But why would she go back to him?” Chase was sure that it was this Dean Grant who was pushing her to go back to Los Angeles.

  “Well, at least she’s getting something in return from him, right? What were you offering her? Or, more importantly, did you ever tell her what you were offering her? Remember, my friend: men and women speak different languages. You think you’re showing her how you feel, but she wants to hear it.”

  “That’s it? That’s your great advice?” Chase was angry. “We’re great together. How could she not know?”

  Noah shook his head. “See, different languages. You’re showing her when you need to come out and tell her. All in, my friend, all in.”

  Chase thought about that. It was true. She’d never really said that she wanted to go back to California—just that it was a great opportunity. And he never asked her to stay. Or worse yet, he never asked her if she wanted to make it work. He had just assumed that she would be willing to take whatever he gave her.

  “She wants me. All of me,” Chase said with some amazement. Women had wanted him before, but they had usually wanted his money or his lifestyle or some combination of both. In return, they had been willing to warm his bed, but not one of them had really wanted all of him. They had wanted to catch him.

  “I think you’re finally getting it. I don’t think she bought into any of this romance-of-the-century stuff you cooked up.”

  “I didn’t cook it up,” Chase began, but then stopped. He certainly hadn’t prevented it, figuring it was good for both of them. But she hadn’t wanted any of that either.