Will Work For Love (10 page)

She laughed out loud. Her green eyes sparkled in the
sunlight and he wondered how he could resist her or anything she
asked of him.

Her look darkened quickly, though. “No one is
getting married here,” she said. “Look at this place.”

Chris turned and looked at the whole scene. He knew
exactly what he was going to see and the guilt stabbed him a little
as he pulled Whitney closer to him.

“The wedding is off,” she said sadly.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Chris said, unable to keep
his hands off her face as he caressed her and spoke gently. “I can
help you.”

“How?”

“My dad owns a construction company in Maine.
Believe me, I know a thing or two about building. I grew up working
for him.”

“But why would you—” she began.

“Just say yes,” Chris said. “Maybe it’s a good
excuse to spend more time with you.”

Whitney turned to look at the yard that was still a
mess, the pavilion that still looked shattered by the storm, and
the gazebo that was still totally out of the question for wedding
guests. Only the trees and natural debris had been cleared
away.

“Is there any chance of getting it fixed up in
time?”

“With the right motivation, I can work like a
machine.”

“But your trading business—”

“Closed until after New Year’s. I’m giving my guys
some time off.”

“So, you’re…”

“All yours.”

****

Whitney couldn’t believe what she was hearing for
the second time that day. Her earlier phone call to Blue Isle where
the message on the machine announced their closure for the next two
weeks left her stunned and speechless. Closed. No work. No
hurricane repair. No dream wedding for Taylor.

Whitney had stood on the warm sand staring out at
the water wondering what on earth she could possibly do. Calling
Taylor’s family with the bad news was the only thing she could
think of, and she was about to do just that when a slight sound
made her turn around. Chris could not have looked any more handsome
as he had stood on the far edge of the lawn, just looking at
her.

Now, she could not believe her ears. Was he really
offering to do her construction work? Could it be done in only the
ten days they had left? Should she trust Chris or call Taylor right
now so she could make an alternate plan for her wedding?
Considering the work may not finish on time, maybe Taylor deserved
the chance to decide for herself if she wanted to take a chance on
it.

Whitney looked into the sincere blue eyes staring
intently into hers, waiting for an answer. For whatever reason he
wanted to help her, she was going to take what he had to offer.
Maybe it was a risk, but right now it seemed like the best risk she
could take. And her only option.

“Thank you, Chris.”

He didn’t answer her, but pulled her gently against
his hard chest and stroked her hair as he held her. “It’ll be all
right,” he whispered.

****

“Which is more important,” Chris asked a little
while later, “the pavilion or the gazebo?”

“Both,” Whitney said.

“Agreed. Let me rephrase that. Which one do you want
done first?”

Whitney looked them both over, picturing Taylor
walking across the lawn with her white dress angling gracefully
over her protruding belly as her family looked on happily. She
could not let her friend down.

“Pavilion, I think. That’s where the ceremony itself
will take place. The gazebo is important, and I think they probably
want to use it for pictures, but just in case we—” she broke off
and bit her lower lip again.

“No ‘just in case’ necessary,” Chris said. “We’ll
get them both done.”

Something about the way he said it was reassuring.
He looked, spoke, and acted like the kind of man who got things
done. He just might be too good to be true. Whitney thought about
the conventional Boston wisdom that would remind her that if
something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

However, Boston was very far away right now and she
was here alone and facing a mountainous project. Except that she
wasn’t quite alone. It would take a miracle, but something about
Chris made her want to believe in miracles.

The sun was setting on the other side of the island,
and dark slanted shadows disappeared into night.

Chris squeezed her shoulder. “Want to order us some
dinner while I get started?” He grinned. “I work better with a full
stomach.”

Whitney laughed. “So that’s why you’re helping me
out. I’m going to have to feed you.”

“A man’s gotta eat, and the only things I can cook
are pancakes and microwave popcorn.”

“I think I can do better than that.”

Whitney went into the house and dialed up a pizza
delivery place. It wasn’t glamorous, but if she served it with some
cold beer, it would make a meal. It was almost dark anyway, so they
might as well enjoy a quiet dinner. They couldn’t work after dark,
so they would have the whole night before them. And then what?
Would he stay late? Would they…

A loud noise startled Whitney and bright light swept
across the floor of the dining room. She followed the path of light
and discovered the entire lawn was lit up like daylight. Whatever
that loud noise was, it was powering some huge construction lights.
Maybe Chris was planning to work all night. That answered her
question about what they might do after dark.

Whitney went outside and headed across the
illuminated lawn.

“I feel like I’m at a football game,” she said as
she found Chris tentatively pulling down some damaged boards and
stepping carefully beneath the unsteady pavilion. He stopped what
he was doing and smiled crookedly at her.

“Wanna play cheerleader and quarterback? I’ll take
you to the homecoming dance if you’ll let me copy your math
homework.”

“I was never cheerleader material. And I wouldn’t
let you copy my homework even if you—”

“What?”

“Never mind,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “I’m a
nice girl.”

He looked her over from head to toe, drinking in
every one of her curves and making her feel like a display in a
shop window. “Too bad,” he said.

Too good, she thought. He seemed too good to be
true. He took out a tape measure from his pocket and measured
boards while he whistled. It was not hard to believe him when he
said he knew what he was doing. He seemed completely in his element
walking around inspecting, probing, and measuring the pavilion.
Maybe this would turn out all right after all.

“Pizza will be here in a half an hour, and there’s
cold beer in the fridge,” she said. “What can I do to help in the
meantime?”

“Could you find paper and a pencil? I’m going to
start cutting some boards, but I need you to write down some
measurements first.”

“What boards? Don’t we need to go to a lumberyard or
something like that?”

Chris raised his eyebrows and pointed to a
tarp-covered pile next to a trailer that tall lights were mounted
to. “Looks like the lumber fairy came. Must be the same fairy that
dropped off these convenient lights.”

“Amazing,” Whitney said. “Where did that come
from?”

“Had to be your construction company. It was here
when I got here.”

A smile spread across her face. She hadn’t noticed
the pile of construction supplies, but she hadn’t really looked at
any of the stuff that appeared yesterday while she was out on the
boat with Chris. She was leaving all that worry to Blue Isle
Construction. Now she was glad that those jerks at least dropped
off a mountain of materials before they left on their two-week
Christmas vacation.

Chapter Eleven

They ate hot pizza and drank cold beer on the patio
overlooking the lawn. Chris turned off the obnoxious construction
lights while they ate.

“I look better by candlelight,” he explained.

“I think you look fantastic in any light.”

“So do you,” he said. He reached across the small
table and covered her hand with his. He looked at her hard and she
could feel her body start to respond in far more places than the
hand he was touching. She could tell he felt it, too. He leaned
back in his chair, removing his hand from hers.

“Better get back to work,” he said huskily, “or I
won’t be able to concentrate on anything except you.”

“Might be a problem,” Whitney said reluctantly.

“Could be hazardous running the saw when my mind is
on you.”

“Hate for you to lose a hand. You’re so good with
those.”

“You only know the half of it,” he said.

Whitney took their plates into the kitchen and
rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher. Even though
she was only occupied for a few minutes, by the time she got back
to the lawn, Chris was already at work. He had the lights cranked
up to full daylight, a ladder propped up against the side of the
pavilion, and a saw set up.

“You don’t waste time,” Whitney said.

“We don’t have much, do we? Wedding is on Christmas
Eve, you’ve got guests arriving in—”

“Eight days.”

“Better give me that list of measurements.”

Whitney watched as Chris worked with confidence and
precision. He measured, sawed, and nailed boards into place. Before
her eyes, the pavilion started to look like the pavilion she
remembered. Missing boards were slowly replaced, broken ones were
repaired, columns were starting to stand up straighter. She was
getting tired just watching Chris work and trying to help him by
fetching boards, nails, and whatever else he asked for. She never
got tired of watching his muscular arms, and generally tempting
body perched in front of her on a ladder. A view she could get used
to.

It had to be getting close to midnight, though, and
the thought of snuggling into bed was getting more and more
appealing. Her back ached from doing what she could to help and she
could almost feel the massaging hot jets in the large sunken tub
upstairs. The magnificently smooth sheets in her large guest bed
would feel so good against her skin. She glanced over at Chris
standing on a ladder whistling and hammering like he just got
started. How the heck did he have so much energy? Maybe those
massively muscled shoulders of his were actually a power plant of
some kind.

“Need a break?”

Chris paused, hammer in hand, and looked down at
her. “Very tempting,” he said.

“So…”

“A few more nails, and then I’ll hang it up for the
night,” he grinned at her. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Is anyone waiting up for you?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have to be anywhere first thing in the
morning?”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” he
asked.

“Do you want it to be?” Whitney asked softly.

“Does it come with breakfast?”

“If you’ll come down from that ladder and kill those
lights, it will even come with a long hot soak in a large sunken
tub.”

“And breakfast?”

Whitney smiled. “The works.”

“I’m right behind you.”

****

Chris was right behind her as she entered through
the double glass doors into the living room. Right behind her as
she climbed the stairs, feeling his presence in every one of her
nerves. Right behind her as she walked down the hallway to her
guest room with an adjoining bathroom. He followed her into the
bathroom and stood close behind her as she turned on the hot water
and started to fill the tub.

Without a word, Chris turned her around so she faced
him. Slipped his hands under her shirt and pulled it up over her
head. Her nipples hardened in the cool air of the bathroom. It felt
like they were the only people on earth. A few days ago, if she
imagined herself inviting a man she’d only known a few days into a
sunken bath, she would have laughed. Right now, it felt totally
right.

She reached for him, slipping her hands under his
shirt and running her fingers over his muscular chest and back. It
wasn’t enough. They were next to an enticing tub filling with
deliciously hot soapy water. She pulled his shirt off slowly,
enjoying the act of undressing him. It was obvious he appreciated
it, too, and he took over and finished getting completely and
magnificently naked.

The tub was almost ready. Whitney tested the water
and then removed what little else she wore.

“Even better than I imagined,” Chris said, his eyes
devouring her naked flesh.

She took his hand, inviting him to join her in the
spacious bath. He sank down in the hot water first and pulled her
onto his lap, thrilling her all over with the delicious feel of his
warm slippery skin against hers. She felt his prominent erection at
her back and knew it was only a matter of time before he would slip
inside her as he had already slipped inside her life for the past
few days. She shivered. Definitely too good to be true.

With every hour that had passed since she arrived on
St. Thomas, she wanted him more. And she wondered even more how she
was going to let him go when the wedding was over and she went home
to Boston. Her usual sensible self should be scolding her for
letting this relative stranger into her life, her bedroom, and even
her heart.

But he was no stranger. She had seen firsthand the
respect and affection people on these islands had for him. He had
come to East Pointe to volunteer for backbreaking labor for the
sole purpose of helping her. How could she not trust someone who
was so selfless? And so incredibly sexy? Why deny what she was
feeling?

Whitney leaned her head on Chris’ shoulder and let
the warm water relax her. Chris kissed the back of her neck and her
shoulders, his hands wandering freely over her. She closed her
eyes, wanting to drink in the feeling. Wanting him to touch her.
Everywhere. Why had she never shared a soapy tub with a man before?
It was incredible.

She turned around in the hot water and wrapped her
legs around him. She massaged his shoulders for several minutes,
pausing only when a blister she hadn’t even noticed on her thumb
stung viciously when the soap got in it. Chris noticed right away
and took her hand, gently rubbing the palm and fingers with his
warm wet sudsy hands. The sensual movement of his fingers on hers
sent spikes of desire through her body.