Facing the Music by Andrea Laurence Page B

grandmother was no docile, cookie-baking granny. She was a strategist. He just wasn’t entirely sure what she was planning. She didn’t tip her hand very often. Even when his grandfather was alive it had been she who ran the show. She was more a Chamberlain than her husband ever was.
    “I didn’t invite you over,” she said. “You barged in and didn’t bother to ask who I was expecting. How could I have planned it?”
    Blake wasn’t sure, but he knew she had. He stood up from his chair, but he had no way of escaping unless he jumped the wooden railing of the gazebo and took off at a sprint across the lawn. He wouldn’t give Ivy the satisfaction of spooking him that badly. That meant standing his ground.
    Just then, Winston arrived at the steps of the gazebo. “Mrs. Chamberlain, Miss Hudson has arrived for tea.” He held out his arm, gesturing for Ivy to go ahead.
    She looked beautiful, and so different from the other times he’d run into her. At the cabin, she’d been quite literally a blank slate: no makeup, no clothes, no hairstyling. At the bar, she’d been done up for a rowdy night on the town with dark eyeliner and sexy but severely styled hair. Today at the fund-raiser meeting, it was a more casual in-between look with a sleek ponytail and a pink gloss that made her lips look shiny and kissable. That had been nice, but right now, she was just about perfect.
    Blake felt like Goldilocks as he looked Ivy over. This look was soft and romantic. The pale cream lace of her top accented the peachy tones of her skin. The dark waves of her hair were pulled into a braided bun at the back of her neck. Soft tendrils fell around her face, highlighting the delicate blush and golden glow of her eye makeup.
    She thanked Winston, taking a few steps up before reaching the top and realizing Blake was standing there behind the wooden post. In that moment, the smile that lit up her face faded. In the pit of his stomach, Blake ached for it to return, but how could he witness it when he was the one who chased it away?
    “You look . . .” his voice trailed off as he got lost in the depths of her emerald-green eyes. He cleared his throat and started over. “You look lovely today, Ivy.”
    “Thank you,” she said, her body language a little stiff. Ivy seemed almost more uncomfortable when he was nice to her than when they were fighting.
    She didn’t say anything else to him. Instead she turned to his grandmother and offered her hand. “Thank you for inviting me over, Mrs. Chamberlain. It’s an honor to share tea with you today.”
    His grandmother smiled at her, showcasing the smile Blake knew was saved for the public. “Of course I had you over, dear. I drew up the invitation as soon as I knew you had returned to Rosewood. Please have a seat.” She gestured over to the seat Blake had recently occupied.
    Blake, of course, was in her way. The gazebo was not very large. She took a step and then had to stop. Her dark green eyes focused on him expectantly until he stepped aside and let her take the seat.
    Adelia picked up the silver teapot and immediately poured two cups. “Cream or lemon, dear?”
    Blake watched the ladies go through the ritual of building the perfect cup of tea, unsure of what to do.
    It must have been obvious to his grandmother that he was at a loss, too. She placed a toast point with smoked salmon and crème fraiche on her plate and looked up at him with amusement lighting her pale blue eyes. “Blake, dear, are you staying for tea or have you said what you needed to say?”
    He had a strange, inexplicable urge to stay, and not because he had more to say to his grandmother. He wanted to be close to Ivy for a while in a setting where they couldn’t fuss and he could admire her beauty from the safety of his own wicker chair. Even after all these years, she had this hold on him, like she was a planet and he was a satellite stuck in her gravitational pull. He wanted to . . . hold Ivy’s hand.
    He had