Will Work For Love (11 page)

“You’re not used to hauling boards and hammering
nails,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll do that, and we’ll find something
else for you to do.”

“Like what?” she murmured, kissing his neck and
playfully licking off streams of warm water.

“You can be in charge of massages and motivation.
Oh, and food. I love food.”

“Maybe I better practice tonight,” she said as she
reached under the water, ignoring the stinging of her blister and
finding something long and hard to take her mind off it. “I’ll have
to discover exactly what motivates you.”

Chris groaned with pleasure and leaned his head back
against the side of the tub. “I think you might have put your
finger on it already.”

Whitney laughed. Her head spun, her senses reeled,
and she was ready to let Chris do anything to her he wanted.

“I think we should move to dry land,” she whispered,
her lips close to his ear.

“Did you have something in mind?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out,” she said.

She stepped slowly out of the tub knowing Chris was
watching her every move. She picked up a fluffy towel, forgetting
completely the dull ache in her shoulders and the blister on her
hand as she dried off in front of him.

Whitney dropped her towel and stood naked before
Chris. She did not feel shy at all as his eyes roamed hungrily over
her entire body. She picked up a large towel and held it out to him
and then watched as he stood up, rivers of water running down his
broad chest, across the flat hard muscles of his stomach, and down
his thighs.

Whitney summoned the last ounce of her self-control
as she felt a physical chain reaction exploding inside of her.
“C’mon,” she said, and then she turned and went through the door to
the adjoining bedroom.

She stopped when she got to the bed and turned, the
back of her thighs brushing against the soft sheets. Chris, still
damp from the tub, wasted no time. He picked her up and laid her
gently on the bed then moved over top of her.

Whitney was a take-charge kind of woman in her
business life, but right now she felt a thrill wash over her as
Chris’ muscular shoulders and forearms pinned her to the bed. His
mouth took hers and his kiss made her ache for his touch
everywhere.

“I’ve wanted to do this from the first moment I saw
you,” he said when he finally drew back and took a breath.

Whitney giggled. “When I was stuck in the revolving
door?”

“Um-hmm,” he said, kissing her neck and moving
slowly downward.

“Right,” she said skeptically.

“Confession time,” he said, looking her in the eye
while toying with a lock of her long wet hair. “I actually watched
you for a minute before I decided to rescue you. I loved the part
where you pulled your sweatshirt over your head.”

“It was hot in there.”

“I could see that,” he said, smiling and returning
to his careful kissing of every inch of her exposed and flushed
skin. His lips didn’t stop until he had tasted everything she had
to give. Their bodies moved together slowly, rhythmically, like the
ocean waves washing the beach outside the open windows.

Afterward, he sprawled half beside and half over her
and nuzzled her shoulder with his lips. Whitney had no idea how she
had gotten to this place in the short four days since she flew into
St. Thomas.

And she had no idea how she was ever going to
leave.

Chapter Twelve

She didn’t get the chance to serve him breakfast in
bed. The sunlight slanting across her face was the first thing
Whitney noticed the next morning. The empty bed next to her was the
next thing. Chris was gone, and her room felt very large and
hollow. She got up and went over to her window overlooking the
construction zone. She was afraid he was gone like some fantastic
figment of her imagination. She took a deep breath.

But there he was. Already on a ladder with his
massive arms stretched over his head.

Whitney watched Chris effortlessly climb up and down
the ladder, carrying boards on his shoulder, reaching for the loop
on his belt that cradled his hammer, fishing nails out of a pocket.
She couldn’t help but wonder, again, what was in it for him? Why
was he so interested in helping? She didn’t doubt that he was
attracted to her, they both felt the electric sizzle from the first
moment they’d met in the airport. And he was apparently alone for
the holidays. Still, it was hard to imagine anyone would sign on
voluntarily for the amount of work she needed. How did he manage to
make it look like he really wanted to do this and was even enjoying
it?

Watching him confidently attack the project like a
one-man construction company bolstered her spirits. Calling the
East family with the wedding progress was something she couldn’t
even consider yesterday, but now she really believed she could
muster up the sound of optimism and reassurance in her voice
Taylor’s parents needed to hear. Not that she was going to explain
that her sexy island fling who just happened to be fantastic at
building was picking up the slack from that damned Blue Isle
Construction Company who had taken the insurance money and done
nothing. Not exactly nothing, she reasoned. They came to meet her,
dumped off a huge pile of supplies and equipment, and promptly
closed for two weeks.

Her work may be getting done and the wedding may
turn out to be fantastic, but no way in hell was she letting Blue
Isle off the hook. When the wedding was over, she would talk to
Taylor’s parents and they would have their lawyers take that
miserable island construction company apart piece by fraudulent
piece.

****

Chris felt like singing this morning. Not that it
covered up the sound of his growling stomach, but it still felt
right. Spending time with Whitney was the most fun he’d had on this
island since he settled in after the first few indulgent months.
Island flings with beautiful tourists had appealed to him for a
while, but he quickly realized the limitations of that
lifestyle.

He had sworn off picking up tourists for the last
few years. Somehow, that all changed when he saw Whitney at the
airport. The instant undeniable attraction had not worn off a
single bit, even after spending hours and hours with her and having
explored every inch of her body with his own.

Rick cautioned him about the dangerous game he was
playing, and he was probably right. Chris’ cavalier assurances that
he could handle himself and he knew what he was doing weren’t
holding much water this morning. Not when he found himself humming
as he hammered the graceful arches and trellises of what was going
to be a fabulous pavilion when he got done with it.

Being in Whitney’s bed last night made him think
about the future far more than he usually did. She was the kind of
woman he’d like to be with. Smart, sexy, fun. She even owned her
own business so she’d understand the time and devotion he put into
his work. And that’s exactly where two of his major problems lay.
Even thinking about it made the slight breeze off the ocean feel
like a cold wind over his satiated flesh. Not only did she have
every reason to head home to her own life and job when Christmas
was over, she also considered his baby, Blue Isle, to be her
archenemy.

There was no way this was going to work out. He
might finish the work to her satisfaction and somehow manage to
save his company from being slammed with insurance fraud charges,
but there would be no saving himself from Whitney when she found
out who he was. He had seen the fire in her eyes when she thought
about how her contractor was letting down her best friend. She
would be fierce in a battle, and he wouldn’t come out of it without
scars.

Chris squinted up at the crooked board over his
head. He’d have to cross that bridge when the time came. For now,
he was doing what he had to do, and enjoying the added bonus of
Whitney crossing the lawn with a cup of coffee in one hand and
plate of something that had to be breakfast in the other. He didn’t
deserve her, but he was going to hang onto the next week like it
was his last week with her. Because, unless there was a miracle, it
was.

****

“I can’t believe it,” Whitney exclaimed late that
afternoon.

The pavilion was starting to look like she
remembered. It was a secure structure she wasn’t afraid to walk
under, and there were no dangling or missing boards. Sure, it
needed detail work and a major paint job, but Chris had worked
wonders.

“This time tomorrow, that gazebo will be starting to
look better,” Chris said. He wrapped one long arm around Whitney’s
waist and brushed paint chips and wood slivers out of her hair.

“And then what will we do with ourselves,” she asked
playfully.

Chris laughed. “Finish carpentry, priming, painting,
and general fussing.”

“Will that take a week?”

“Depends on how many distractions we have,” he said
as he pulled her closer and made it very clear he knew a thing or
two about distractions.

She responded instantly to him as she breathed in
his masculine scent with just a tinge of sweat and sawdust. His
lips were achingly seductive and she felt an answering urgency deep
inside. This was a man she wanted over and over. Especially after
last night. Sex had never been like that for her. Explosive. Hot.
Definitely not polite and sensible Boston sex.

Whitney clung to Chris and kissed him with all the
fervor she felt. She didn’t know how she was ever going to say
goodbye to him when the work here was done, the wedding was over,
and it was time to fly home where her business manager awaited her
decision about the company’s future.

Chris pulled back and studied her. “Something
wrong?”

Whitney shook her head. “Not with you. This is so
perfect.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I was just thinking that I don’t want to, that
I—”

“That you what?” Chris asked gently, his big hand
cupping her face, his thumb rubbing back and forth gently over her
cheekbone.

“That I don’t know how I’m going to make myself get
on a plane headed to cold gray Boston after all this.”

Chris pulled her close. Her ear pressed against his
chest wall and she could hear his heart beating.

“Right now,” he whispered, “I’m don’t even want
think about what happens when the wedding is over.”

Chapter Thirteen

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Chris asked for the
second time, a note of trepidation in his voice.

“Painting? Nope. I’ve done some before and I kind of
like it,” Whitney answered.

She tied a red handkerchief over her hair and wore
an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts. The effect was sexy as hell. A
woman who didn’t mind climbing a ladder and painting a trellis,
also strangely sexy. He pretty much had her body imprinted on his
mind, but he wanted to touch it all over again, just in case he’d
forgotten anything.

“Okay, but just be careful. Don’t lean too far off
the ladder.”

“Gotcha, boss,” she said playfully.

“I’ll be right over here working on the gazebo,” he
said.

“Better get moving on that. As soon as I finish
painting this pavilion, I’m coming over to the gazebo to paint
it.”

“No threat, honey, that will take you all day and
then some to paint,” he said as he swatted her butt as she
climbed.

“Race you,” she said, throwing him a sassy look and
hauling her paint bucket to the top of the ladder.

Chris grinned at her and walked over to the gazebo,
his tape measure already in his hands. It was going to be a long
haul, but by the time the sun set on this day, it would look a
whole lot better. Only seven days until company came to town, and
he knew damn well that this place had better be perfect before the
owners swept in and took it all off Whitney’s hands. No doubt his
fate would be out of his hands, too, when someone got around to
connecting all the dots.

****

“All right, I surrender,” Whitney said. It was past
lunchtime and she’d only painted about one third of the pavilion.
She didn’t believe Chris when he said it would take all day, but
she realized now that he knew exactly what he was talking
about.

“I like the sound of that,” Chris said as he stopped
what he was doing on the gazebo and came over to stand beneath her
ladder. “That must mean it’s time for lunch. Hand me your bucket,”
he said.

Whitney handed down her bucket and brush and started
down the rungs. Chris plucked her off the ladder and swung her
slowly down to the ground then began kneading her aching shoulders.
He looked intently into her face like he was trying to memorize it
and watched her reaction closely as his hands sought the sore
places.

“Is that where it hurts?” he asked.

“Right there,” she groaned and closed her eyes,
barely able to stand. “That feels so good.”

Chris continued to rub her neck and shoulders and
then moved behind her and started slowly down her back. The feeling
was exquisite. Whitney was a sponge soaking up his strength and
touch.

“You could do that all day,” she said huskily.

Chris leaned in and kissed the back of her neck.
“No, I couldn’t,” he said. He bit her ear playfully and then
trailed his tongue down the side of her neck. “I’d want a whole lot
more than a massage.” He kissed the delicate skin at the back of
her neck. “And then we’d both be naked and risking a killer
sunburn.” She could feel him smiling as he continued, “It’d sure be
worth it, though.”

“Maybe we should have some lunch,” she suggested.
“Any ideas?”

“All food is good food when you’re this hungry,” he
said. “I’ll take you anyplace you want to go.”

“Dressed like this?” she said, gesturing at her
paint-flecked scarf and work clothes.

“Take out?”

“You call, I’ll pick it up.”