Will Work For Love (17 page)

Her fair skin already looked pink, especially in
contrast to her white bikini. It didn’t cover ten percent of her
body, but it sure opened the doors to incredible temptation. What
would she do if he kissed her awake?

What was he thinking? He came out here for the
practical purpose of waking her up before she totally fried in the
sun. She would almost certainly not even thank him.

“Whitney,” he said somewhat gruffly, “wake up.”

Her eyes flew open and she looked confused. Chris
stood over her casting a very large shadow. Her first expression
upon seeing him was friendly, but he watched the wave of
realization sweep over her face when she remembered she was mad at
him. She sat up quickly, clutching her sarong and pulling it over
her.

“Were you standing there staring at me?” she
demanded.

“I…I only came out here to wake you up. You’ve been
asleep in the sun for an hour and a half. I didn’t think a sunburn
would improve your mood very much,” he said, and then he stalked
over to the pavilion to take up the job of painting.

****

Whitney decided it was far too dangerous to go out
of the house again for the rest of the day. Not only did her skin
sting from the brutal sun, but her heart also stung from her
feelings for Chris.

When she awoke and found him standing over her with
a look of concern, she had to force herself to remember that this
was the man who nearly ruined her best friend’s wedding.

Fine, she thought. She would stay in. She would take
a cool soothing bath and then do something around the house.
Whitney looked around the simply decorated living room and realized
something was missing. Christmas decorations. It was only days
until Christmas, and from the looks of this house, it could have
been July. If she was going to spend Christmas on a tropical island
along with Taylor’s whole family, there was no harm in having the
house done up a little like a New England holiday.

Whitney bathed and put on her softest sweats. Having
spent two Christmas holidays during college in this house, she knew
where to find stored boxes of lights, wreaths, candles, garland,
and bulbs.

She dragged the decorations downstairs, cranked up
Christmas music on the CD player in the living room, and started
in. Candles and garland festooned the mantle, brightly colored
bulbs on ribbons hung from the chandelier, a wreath adorned the
front door. The boxes were still overflowing with multiple strands
of lights. White lights. They would be perfect outside strung in
the bushes and trees, and maybe even on the pavilion.

Whitney glanced out the door. Still daylight. She
would have time to put up lights outside and then check out their
effect after dark. If it ever did get dark on that lawn with huge
construction lights waiting to light it up like a runway.

She dragged a box of lights outside and stood on the
small patio, surveying where to put the lights. Without looking,
she knew she had Chris’ attention and she felt his eyes on her,
following her every move.

A small palm tree grew next to the cozy patio.
Whitney started at the bottom of the trunk and wound lights around
and around. She eventually got to waist height, then eye level,
then over her head. Just a little higher would finish the effect.
She dragged a chair over and stepped onto it, feeling it teeter a
little as one of its feet rocked on an uneven patio stone.

Whitney leaned far out to the side so she could
drape the lights in the lowest hanging branches. She leaned just a
little bit too far. The chair rocked and tipped. She grabbed the
tree trunk for support, but her feet were already marooned in
midair and she heard the chair crash onto the stones. Incredibly,
though, she was still suspended in the air with one hand wrapped
around a string of lights and one hand clutching the slim tree
trunk. Around her waist, she felt two strong hands.

He held her for just a moment and then slowly pulled
her closer to him and lowered her to the ground, her body grazing
his all the way down. When her feet touched solid ground, they were
face to face, both breathing rapidly. She didn’t know who made the
first move, but the kiss came hot and strong. For a moment, they
weren’t enemies.

Chris moved his lips from hers and trailed them down
the side of her face. “I love decorating for Christmas,” he
murmured quietly.

His voice jolted her into reality. She jerked back
and walked straight into the house, pulling the sliding glass doors
firmly shut and locking them. For good measure, she also pulled the
heavy drapes covering them so she could not see a thing outside and
Chris could not see in. She would be staying in for the rest of the
night. Before she accidentally did something stupid and let the
very smooth Chris Maxwell deep into her heart again.

Too late, she realized she had left all the rest of
her white lights outside.

“Heck with it,” she said to herself. “I’m not going
out there to get them.”

Whitney dug through the DVD drawer in the
entertainment center and found a copy of
White Christmas
.
She made popcorn, put the movie in, and settled back to relax. It
would have been a perfect girl’s night in if there hadn’t been a
dangerously tempting but infuriating man just outside the door.

****

Late that night, Whitney crawled into bed and dozed
off, dreaming of Bing Crosby crooning her to sleep and Christmas
cookies baking in the kitchen. She awoke in the middle of the night
and noticed a sliver of light creeping in the small crack between
her curtains. Of course. She was used to the lawn being lit up all
night.

Whitney glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside
table. Two-thirty a.m. She laid her head back on the pillow and
looked at the light coming through the curtains. It wasn’t the same
light she had started to get used to, the glaring construction
light more obnoxious than the noonday sun.

This light was more subtle, softer. Whitney crossed
the room and pulled aside the curtains just an inch. What she saw
on the lawn made her draw the curtain all the way.

The light was not coming from the construction
equipment. It was coming from the wedding pavilion. It was covered
in twinkling white lights. The Christmas lights she left outside
hours earlier were all strung up. The supporting posts of the
pavilion were carefully wrapped with neat circles of lights, the
overhead trellis dripped lights in an elegantly draped pattern.
Magic. Pure magic.

She looked more carefully. The pavilion was
completely finished, white paint covering every old board and new
one, unifying them. The gazebo was also completely finished. White
lights draped in neat swags around the outside of the gazebo and
hung down in a pattern on the inside.

Whitney’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t
know why she felt like crying. It was beautiful. Chris had done
this. As a way of saying what? I’m sorry? Maybe he was hoping she’d
be mollified and wouldn’t take down his company. Whitney wondered
for a moment how he was going to appease all the other people on
the island who, according to Mavis, were also all mad at him about
their hurricane damage. No doubt he would manage to charm and play
them all. Just like he was doing to her right now.

Chris was sound asleep, right there among the
magical lights, on her beach lounge.

Taking an extra pillow and a light blanket from the
hall closet, Whitney stole out on the lawn to where Chris lay,
sound asleep. He didn’t stir when she lifted his head and slipped
the pillow under. Didn’t move a muscle as she draped the soft
blanket over his sleeping body. She stood there and looked down at
him for a minute, imagining what he had been thinking when he stood
over her as she slept in the sun earlier in the day.

She stood for several minutes, watching him sleep
and resisting the temptation to awaken him. On her way back to the
house, Whitney walked slowly down the center aisle of the wedding
pavilion, stepping gracefully like a bride under all the whimsical
white lights illuminating her way.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chris woke to the sun’s slanted rays glancing across
his tired eyes. An unfamiliar, yet comfortable, shape under his
head barely registered, but the warm soft blanket brushing his skin
caught his attention.

Despite years of hard work, his arms and shoulders
reminded him of the toll of the past week. The past few days had
worn him down. Working like a dog for several years to build his
business was nothing compared to working like a man possessed for
the last few days to save it.

Fully awake now, he wondered where the soft blanket
came from. And the pillow. He remembered falling, exhausted, on the
lounge after stringing all the lights Whitney left when she
retreated into the house after their unexpected kiss. She must have
come out here in the night. He could only imagine why. Considering
she’d brought a pillow and blanket, there were two possibilities.
Maybe she just wanted to make him more comfortable, which would
mean she was softening toward him. Maybe she planned to smother him
with the pillow and changed her mind. Which meant another thing
entirely.

Chris rolled off the lounge, ran his hands over his
stubble and through his hair, stretched, and walked toward the
house. Birds flew overhead, squawking in the morning sunshine and
dipping into the sparkling water. Ignoring them, he headed for the
back patio. He didn’t know what he was going to say when she came
to the door, but he figured he’d let things take their natural
course. Maybe it would work. Judging from the sun, it had to be at
least nine o’clock in the morning. Whitney would be up and ready to
give him hell. He was going to give her the opportunity.

He knocked on the sliding glass door and waited.
Knocked and waited again. Tentatively tried to slide the door and
it didn’t budge. Locked. He went around to the kitchen door and
rang the bell. No answer. Tried the knob. Also locked. He couldn’t
see into the garage, but he had to guess her black rental Jeep was
gone. Or she was really serious about hiding out from him.

Chris walked back to the yard and unplugged the
white lights. He started cleaning up any leftover debris and
throwing it into the bed of his truck along with any tools he found
still on the grounds. Loaded his truck and hitched the small
trailer with the construction lights to the bumper. He was packed
up and ready to go. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to leave without
saying goodbye.

He walked slowly down the front of the house,
looking at every window and shutter. He shaded his eyes and tipped
his head up to check out the roofline of the house that had been a
resting place for a palm tree for the past several months. His feet
touched every stone and paver in the patio and on the walkway as he
walked slowly around the gazebo and inspected it. He thought of
Whitney with every step.

He saved the pavilion for last. It was a huge
structure that had taken a lot of intricate work and a lot of
patience to paint. It was nice that Whitney did a great deal of the
painting, but she left him some to finish late last night. The
whole structure gleamed and looked perfect. He liked to think the
Christmas lights he added gave it a festive appearance, and they
were really perfect for a Christmas Eve wedding.

Chris didn’t know why he wanted Taylor East’s
wedding to be perfect. He didn’t even know her. But he knew her
best friend. And she deserved perfect.

****

Whitney got up, showered, and left the house very
early. She wanted to be gone when Chris woke up. Not because she
was afraid to face him, but because, well, she didn’t want to face
him. What good would that do? Their relationship came out of
nowhere and that’s exactly where it was going to end up.

She had a multitude of plans to make today, and
distractions weren’t going to help her finalize the wedding
details. She had chairs to rent and have delivered, flowers to
check on, and bows to make. She needed to review the menu and drop
off a check for the caterer at the five-star hotel that Taylor’s
dad had somehow convinced to make a house call for his daughter’s
wedding reception.

A whole lot of money and hope were pinned on this
wedding. As Whitney drove into town, she thought about how much she
had accomplished for the East family. If they only knew what their
place had looked like when she got there. She spent almost ten days
battling it into perfect condition. She gave up a relaxing vacation
in the fight. And she gave away her heart. That was not something
she was likely to ever get back.

Whitney went to the Marriott first and asked to see
the event planner. When Taylor first told her of the simple island
wedding, there were only a handful of guests invited. That number
grew, however, with the prospect of spending Christmas on St.
Thomas. Luckily, only the immediate family was staying at East
Pointe. The rest would be enjoying the luxuries of the five-star
Marriott.

“Hello,” an impeccably dressed man said as he
approached Whitney with his hand extended, “you must be Whitney
Oliver.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Monroe, and thanks for seeing
me.”

“Any friend of Martin East’s is a friend of mine,”
he said sincerely.

“I appreciate your help with the wedding. I spoke
with your assistant last week and he told me it was all set, but I
should stop by and see you a few days in advance.”

“Perfect,” he said. “At your service: one quintet,
three dozen white chairs, one catering staff with a five-star
chef.”

“It sounds too good to be true,” Whitney said.

“I thought so, too, especially since it’s Christmas
Eve, but my old friend Martin is pretty convincing.”

“Are you coming to the wedding?”

“I plan to. Unless we have another incident like
last year with a drunken Santa who fell in the kiddie pool and
caused a general riot.” He paused with a mock pained expression on
his face. “Who knew the red suit would bleed in warm water? Guess
there’s a reason those are dry-clean only.”