by Drea Stein
Chase felt his heart tug. She had been lighthearted and free during the flea market, but she hadn’t talked about her past. He realized he liked it when Phoebe let her guard down, when she actually talked about herself. He could almost see the little girl she had been, watching the chaos and excitement that was backstage.
“I bet you had your best dress on.”
Phoebe laughed. “And I got to eat M&Ms and drink a Coke during intermission. It was a little slice of heaven.”
“Well, then, let’s go.”
“What do you mean? It’s been closed for years,” Phoebe said.
“I meant we could sail past it. It will have to do, but there’s a great little cove past there that we can tuck into and have our lunch.”
Phoebe put the postcard back. “Sounds good.”
<<>>
Phoebe might have been more comfortable as a swimmer than a sailor, but she knew how to handle herself on a boat. He watched as she hopped lightly aboard.
“Do you want me to stow this for you?” she said, pointing at the canvas bag packed full with their lunch.
“That would be great,” he told her and got busy readying the boat for cast-off. They would motor out of the marina area and out into the wide expanse of Queensbay Harbor. The wind was coming off the land, so they would have a nice clear run up to the Queensbay Show House and then make the trip into Pine Cove. The cove was a decent-sized inlet off the Sound, deep enough for them to be able to go in, nice and protected from the wind and waves, anchor, maybe even take the little dinghy to shore and wade along the sandy shoreline.
When everything was safely stowed below, she hopped onto the dock, untied the mooring lines, and elegantly jumped back aboard. He powered up his engine and his forty-foot sailing cruiser moved away from the slip. Chase guided it out into the channel and towards open water, loving the feeling of the wind ruffling his hair, the smell of the tangy salt water assailing his nostrils.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you take the wheel when I set the sails,” he told Phoebe, but she merely nodded.
It was warming up and the pale pink of her shirt showed off the light tan of her skin. She looked content, sitting back on the cockpit seat, her head turned up to catch the sun.
It took more than a few minutes motoring slowly to make it out to open water. He gave the wheel to Phoebe, told her which direction to point the boat in, and got his sail up. In a moment, it snapped, caught the wind and the boat picked up speed.
Chase came back down in the cockpit and stood next to her. He felt her tense as he put an arm out to help her correct her course. When she had it, he cut the engine and there was that moment of pure, glorious quiet, the only sound a whisper of wind, and the smooth swish of water beneath the bow.
<<>>
Phoebe watched him move around the boat, capable and confident. He looked as good in a pair of rolled-up khakis and polo shirt as he did in his jeans and t-shirt, and she found herself focusing on the pull of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.
He touched her and her body tensed, but it was only a hand on hers, to help her point the boat in the right direction, and as soon as he did, she felt the boat leap to life below her, surge forward on the power of the wind.
Now he was sitting down, stretched out, hands behind his head.
“Aren’t you going to watch where we’re going?
“No, that’s what you’re here for,” he said with a smile.
“But I could hit something.”
He shrugged. “It’s the middle of the week, early in the season. I bet we have the water all to ourselves.”
Phoebe looked around. The harbor was quiet, its high banks covered in a blanket of leafy trees, the sun sparkling and dancing on its surface.
“I guess we’ll be safe.”
“Just don’t get too close to shore.” Chase settled in and for all the world looked like he was going to nap.
Phoebe watched him for a moment and then nudged him. “Not fair. I didn’t know you were going to make me do all the work.”
“Work? You call this work?”
Phoebe sighed, looking at the harbor, at the houses nestled among the trees, at a bird, a hawk probably, flying overhead.
“No, this isn’t work at all,” she agreed.
“Told you nothing beats a sail for fixing what ails you.” Chase sat up now and looked around. He scooted over and came and stood behind her, one arm coming around and touching hers. “A bit to the starboard,” he said.
She had lost track of their course. She was supposed to be heading for the wedding cake. That’s how she had always thought of the Queensbay Show House, a giant white wedding cake perched on the edge of the bank.
“I see it.”
Chase was still behind her, close—too close—when he asked, “If you loved going to the theater, how come you never wanted to be an actress?”
“You mean like Savannah?”
“Exactly. You have the name, the face, and I am sure she would have opened the doors for you.”
Phoebe swallowed, surprised that the memory could still pain her after all these years. Chase moved so he could see her.
“What is it? Tell me.”
Lips pursed together, Phoebe shook her head.
“That bad?” he guessed.
“Worse,” Phoebe admitted and then found herself smiling. “I was in first grade. We were doing a play, “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” I got to be Goldilocks, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Well, it wasn’t just the hair. The teacher had figured out that Savannah was my grandmother and I think she held out the hope that if I got the lead, Savannah would deign to come.”
“Did she?” Chase asked.
“Of course she did.” Phoebe closed her eyes as the memory replayed itself.
“And…”
“I got stage fright, forgot my lines, and knocked down one of the walls of the Bears’ house. Who knew Goldilocks was a comedy?”
“That sounds pretty bad. But you were just a kid.”
“And I knew I wasn’t cut out for it. And Savannah knew too. You know what she said?”
Chase shook his head.
Phoebe’s voice changed, becoming richer, more ironic. “Don’t worry, dear, the theater will survive quite nicely without you.”
“Ouch,” Chase said, but he was smiling, his teeth white against the tanned skin of his face.
“Well, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I never had delusions of making it as an actress. Savannah helped me find my other talents. She was very encouraging that way. She’s the one who kept sending me art supplies and books, even bought me my first computer so I could use a graphics program.” Phoebe’s voice had dropped back into her own.
“So, she wasn’t the prima donna the press made her out to be?” Chase’s voice was low, a dangerous growl, but she could sense the humor in it.
“Well, like I said, she was more like an Auntie Mame than an Auntie Bess, but I guess she did her best.”
Surprised, Phoebe found her eyes tearing up. She’d been so focused on taking care of Savannah, of sorting through things, that she had put her memories of Savannah far away.
“I always thought she was more like a fairy godmother than a grandmother. I could never call her Grandma. She made me call her Aunt Savannah. I mean, she was absent and forgetful, but then she could be generous to a fault.
“And now?” Chase asked.
“I miss her, but she was so sick at the end. Cancer. But I feel like in some respects, I never really knew what made her tick. She was an actress to the end, playing a role, keeping her secrets.”
Chase laughed. “Well, everyone has those. Do you know that my grandmother didn’t love Leland?”
“Well, of course she didn’t.”
“No, I mean before he ran away with Savannah. She thought she loved him, but they didn’t love the same things. Leland liked the big life. My grandmother was more of a small-town girl.”
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“So?” Phoebe didn’t know where this was going. So far, they had avoided the fact that their grandparents had been lovers.
“Well, let’s just say Leland wasn’t leaving a happy marriage behind. Or perhaps that Savannah didn’t have to do much to get him to come.”
“You know, Savannah always said he was the love of her life. It wasn’t easy, but I think they were really, deeply in love. Passionate and stormy, but it was more than just an affair.”
“And is that what you think love should be?’ Chase asked, his eyes dark as he looked at her.
Phoebe shook her head. “No. I think that’s the kind of love that doesn’t survive. It consumes people, makes them resent each other. Savannah was a passionate person, but she could be passionate about many things. I think she could claim Leland was the love of her life because she didn’t have to spend the rest of her life with him.”
She glanced away, out over the water, swallowing before she continued. “My parents loved each other and I don’t remember stormy at all. They seemed happy. Like my mom would smile when my dad came home early and my dad’s face lit up when he saw her. They could count on each other. I think that’s what love is.”
“So no dark and stormy for you?” Chase’s voice was dangerously low, and Phoebe looked at him for a long moment before she replied.
“I think dark and stormy could have its place, for a while.”
Chase gave her his lopsided smile. “Good to know.”
He’d taken off his sunglasses and his eyes were boring into her, laying her bare, and Phoebe felt a shiver run through her. She never should have told him so much and wished he wouldn’t look at her that way. It made not thinking about that kiss all the more difficult.
“There she is.” They sailed past the Queensbay Show House, which almost looked like it were about to pitch into the water. There was a large hand-lettered banner across the front, which read “Save the Show House.”
“Guess it’s fallen on some hard times.”
“Yeah.” Chase’s hand was on her shoulder and he squeezed it. It was a simple, friendly gesture, but her body didn’t respond that way. She wanted to move away, but here she was trapped in a boat, with not a lot of room to hide.
The Show House slipped behind him and Chase took over the wheel. He handled the boat through the channel out into the Sound, gliding past a long pile of rocks that guarded the entrance. Chase headed east, and they sailed along the wide-open water for a while, until he turned again towards the shore. He switched on the motor and she took the wheel as he dropped the sail. He came back and maneuvered them into a narrow passageway that opened up into a wide-open cove, ringed by marsh and trees. It was beautiful, Phoebe thought, and peaceful. A few houses ringed the shoreline, but it was quiet. 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,” she answered automatically, but she wasn’t. Her heart was racing and her skin felt too warm. She half-turned, but found he had her trapped. She would have to push past him—touch him—if she wanted to get to the relatively open space of the cabin. Still, it was all so small, there was really no place to escape him.
“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice dangerously low, and she felt the reaction between her legs, aware she was thoroughly aroused by him. She made a study of him, taking in the dark, too long hair, his thick eyebrows, one of which had a faint scar under it; the tanned skin with the shadow of a beard on it and the way his shoulders stretched the fabric of his worn t-shirt.
“What are you nervous about?” he asked, and his hand moved closer to her. His hands were still on his hips, but now he moved them to either side of her, truly trapping her. She looked into his eyes and saw an answering need to her own in them. She had to look down and away, and her body shifted so she was against him, feeling his strong, lean legs brush against her thighs, and
then the evidence that he was just as aroused as she was.
“This is a bad idea,” she said, automatically. His hand came up and stroked the side of her cheek, and she shivered at his touch.
“It doesn’t have to be.” One finger caught her under the chin and lifted it up so he could look at her.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his breath hoarse and he pressed in closer to her. She rose up to meet him and their mouths met. She found his lips and they took and tasted her, while one of his arms circled her and pulled her close. Phoebe moved her own arms up and around his shoulders, finding his neck and pulling in to him, the need to be close to him filling her desperately.
“Chase,” she murmured.
“Tell me to stop now,” he pulled back a moment and looked at her, his eyes deep, dark, filled with want, “while I can, and I will. I’ll go up on deck and get us back to shore. Or…”
Want and need were coursing through her, and she could feel her desire for him rising in her. She shook her head and said, “Don’t stop. We have a storm to ride out.”
He spoke no more, but his mouth assaulted her, his tongue taking, testing, teasing, while one hand traveled down her neck, skimming her skin, until it found her breast. He cupped it, teasing her nipple, which responded to his touch, puckering beneath it, growing to fullness. Phoebe felt herself give a small moan and heard Chase’s satisfied chuckle. Slowly, leisurely, his hand traveled over to her other breast, and he brought that one to arousal.
She kissed him harder, feeling him grow hard against her as his hand traveled down her shirt, to her waistband. His hand was as warm as fire on the bare flesh of her stomach. One of his knees pushed into her legs, spreading her open. His strong arms lifted her up so that she was balanced on the edge of the counter. He pushed in between her and slid a hand down inside her shorts, finding heat and her wetness. Phoebe moaned for him and wrapped her legs tightly around him.
She heard a small crash, realizing it was just the sound of a knife falling into the galley sink.
With a practiced, swift movement, Chase put both hands under her, pulling her close to him. She wrapped her legs around him and he pulled her back from the counter. In a few short strides, he had her in the cabin, throwing her gently down on the bunk.