Will Work For Love (12 page)

Chris pulled his cell phone and hit a few buttons.
Whitney wasn’t surprised he had food on speed dial. It was the
restaurant that served the Virgin-esias, which Whitney could easily
find.

Forty-five minutes later, she was back with a
bulging bag of hot food which smelled so tempting she’d considered
sampling it on the way back to East Pointe.

A small palm curving gracefully over the back patio
of the house shaded them from the afternoon sun. Chris washed his
hands inside and sat down across from Whitney.

“Don’t tease me,” he said playfully. “I have a
powerful weakness when it comes to food.” He pointed at the scar
over his left eye. “Guess how I got this.”

“Fighting over the last piece of a pizza?”

“Chicken. My older brother has a mean right
hook.”

“What else should I know about you?” she asked.

“Ask away.”

“I know you’re from Maine and that your dad owns a
construction company, but I don’t know how you ended up so far from
home.”

“Probably the same way anyone ends up moving here,”
he said. “I fell in love with it when I came down for spring break
during college.”

“Were your parents disappointed? I mean, they must
miss you.”

“My dad thought I would take over his company. I
think he’s never quite given up the hope that I would.”

“But that’s not for you,” Whitney prodded gently.
“You prefer—”

“Island life. Working in the sun is better than the
snow any day.”

Whitney sensed there was a lot more to the story of
why he’d parted from his father’s company, but he didn’t seem like
he wanted to talk about it. Maybe he was just a little too
interested in his chicken sandwiches; maybe there was something
deeper.

“I came here for spring break when I was in college,
too,” Whitney said. “Taylor’s family always invited me along.”

“Nice of them.”

“They’re my only real family.”

Chris set down his sandwich and met her eyes. “Your
only family?”

Whitney nodded. “I’m an only child.”

Chris’ blue eyes looked straight into hers, and she
felt like she could tell him anything. She took a deep breath.
After seven years, she could almost say the next sentence without
her voice shaking.

“And my parents are gone. Killed in a car accident
when I was a freshman in college.”

Chris reached across and took her hand. “I’m so
sorry,” he said.

Whitney looked out at the ocean, the calm blue waves
like a balm for the raw emotion that bubbled up in her throat
whenever she let herself think about that terrible phone call from
her uncle.

“Taylor East was my roommate during my freshman
year,” Whitney paused and swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I
would have done without her and her family. They pretty much
adopted me.”

Chris looked at her in silence for a minute. “They
gained a beautiful daughter,” he finally said.

“Well,” she said. “What they really need is a
general contractor, not another daughter.”

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to the construction
business,” he said.

“Not quite yet. First, you have to finish your
lunch. I’ve already noticed you operate a whole lot better on a
full stomach.”

“Don’t tell me you’re done already,” he said,
gesturing to the half a sandwich and entire salad that Whitney
hadn’t touched.

“It’s all yours,” she said, shoving it across the
table to him.

“I’ll finish your lunch on one condition,” he said.
“You have to tell me about your business at home.”

“Such a generous offer,” she said, grinning.

Whitney tried to pull up an image of her business in
her mind. Sitting here in the warm shade with the sparkling ocean
to her right and an outrageously handsome man decimating two
lunches in front of her made it very hard to picture anything in
Boston.

“For starters, it’s probably snowing right now,” she
said. “And my business manager Kelly is probably trying to convince
someone else to go out and shovel the sidewalk to the parking
lot.”

“I don’t miss the snow,” Chris said between
bites.

“I doubt that I would either.”

“Sorry, but I have to ask. After I thought you were
marrying someone named Taylor for days, I have to know. Is Kelly a
male or a female?”

Whitney laughed. “Unisex names are fun. And
confusing. Funny how we both have one.”

Chris grinned at her, the scar over his eye slipping
up at a jaunty angle. “But there’s absolutely no doubt in either of
our cases,” he said.

“Female,” she said.

“I know.”

“I mean Kelly. She’s been my business manager for
several years. She enjoys bossing me around, agonizing over
receipts and tax deductions, and generally making sure we make
money.”

“Sounds like a good lady to have around.”

“Most of the time,” Whitney said. She frowned
slightly. “Right now, she’s driving me crazy.”

Chris raised his eyebrow as a means of asking a
nonverbal question with his mouth full.

“She’s after me to expand the company,” Whitney
explained.

Chris nodded.

“I mean a lot, a major expansion,” she continued.
“We’ve been buying the shirts, sweatshirts, uniforms and such from
a wholesaler and then adding our own screen-printing and
embroidery. Kelly thinks we’re big enough to start actually
manufacturing the clothes.”

“Sounds like a smart idea,” Chris commented.

“I guess so, but it means a major expansion. Buying
or building a small factory space. New machines. Adding lots of
employees.”

“So…”

“I’m just not sure I want to go that big. And it
would mean taking on some major debt and risk, especially for the
first several years.”

“Sounds to me like you’re no stranger to hard work,”
Chris said.

“True. But maybe I don’t want to totally bury myself
in it like I used to. Maybe,” she said, looking up into the
branches of the palm tree over her head, “the bottom line isn’t the
most important thing in the world. My employees already make a
decent living. I make a decent living. Maybe my company is already
exactly what it needs to be.”

“I’d love to hear you tell my dad this,” Chris said,
his eyes dancing merrily.

“Why, would he agree?”

“Not at all. But the fireworks would be
incredible.”

“Is he a ‘bottom line’ kind of guy?”

“Yep. Maybe we ought to arrange a meeting with him
and Kelly.”

Whitney smiled. “Seems like there ought to be a
happy medium. Some way to expand while still keeping it personal.”
She looked seriously at Chris. “Do you ever think of expanding your
business here on St. Thomas? You should go into building. You’re so
good at it.”

Chris took a long sip of his drink. “I think I have
enough trouble keeping it going just like it is,” he said. “And I
think I’ve dallied here in the shade long enough.” He winked at her
and got up from the table. “Wouldn’t want the boss to catch me
sitting down on the job.”

Chapter Fourteen

Two days later, Whitney walked out on the lawn in
the mid-afternoon sunshine and marveled at what she saw. Things
were definitely looking up. All traces of wreckage from Hurricane
Destiny were gone now, and the yard simply looked like there was a
nice home improvement project going on.

She leaned against the finished frame of the wedding
pavilion. It only lacked a few details before it would be ready to
host her best friend’s wedding. In only five days.

All thanks to Chris Maxwell. They had less than
three days left before the East family and other relatives started
arriving.

Only two full days. Two full days of being
blissfully alone with Chris and working with him on the
construction project and then sharing her bed with him. Or the
lawn. Or the beach. Wherever they happened to be. Whitney
giggled.

It was so freeing, being here with Chris. No one
around, no one telling her to be sensible. She completely avoided
thinking about her business back home. Kelly could handle it. Aside
from her conversation with Chris about the possible expansion of
the business, she’d managed to put it completely out of her
mind.

Whitney had been listening only to her heart for
days now, and she knew she was getting good advice. One look at
Chris as he laid down the board and the tools and looked
meaningfully at her was all the evidence she needed that her heart
had already given itself away. She was along for the ride.

Chris closed the few yards of distance between them
with three long strides. He paused a foot away, waiting for a sign
from her. This was his way. He made his desires clear, and
considering he was a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, he
could take anything he wanted. But he didn’t, she knew he would
wait for the tiniest sign from her. And then wouldn’t hold back a
thing.

Whitney didn’t prolong the wait. She stepped into
his arms and her lips found his, total surrender in every curve of
her body.

“I want to take you,” he whispered when he finally
drew back an inch from searching every corner of her mouth.

She nodded her assent and parted her lips for him
again.

“Out on my boat,” he finished, already tugging her
toward his truck.

“Wait,” she said, laughing at his hurry. “Do I need
anything? I should grab my purse.”

“If you want, but I’ve arranged for everything.
Dinner’s waiting for us on the boat.”

“When did you do that?” she asked. “I thought you
were supposed to be working out here.”

“It just took a call to a friend,” he said.

Whitney laughed. “Then, let’s go.”

“We have about two hours of daylight,” Chris said
after they were in the truck. “I want to give you a tour of the
island from the water.”

Chris drove to a small marina with only a few boats
bumping gently against wooden docks. The tires crunched on the
gravel. It seemed strangely loud in the peaceful marina. This was
obviously a place where the locals kept their boats, no tourist
trappings in sight.

They both got out of the brown truck. There were
several boats tied up, and Whitney waited while Chris led the way
to his and began to untie its ropes.

“Hope you don’t mind chips and sandwiches for
dinner,” he said.

“It’s a classic,” Whitney said. “Tell me it’s the
famous chicken that your friend’s sister makes.”

“Mavis,” he said, nodding, “it’s been a few days
since I’ve had it.” He grinned at her. “Guess I’ve been filling up
on something else.”

Whitney watched Chris untie his boat. Different from
his delivery boat, this boat was clearly in the process of being
refurbished, but the craft’s true beauty was obvious in the
gleaming wood parts already done. Shining chrome and new vinyl
seats invited her on board.

****

Chris watched her as he readied his boat, and he
couldn’t believe his luck. These past few days were bliss. Whitney
was a match for him in every sense of the word. She worked side by
side with him on the pavilion and the gazebo, measuring, sawing,
hammering, painting. And when they put down the tools and the
clothes came off, there was no describing the incredible physical
hunger and satisfaction.

He stepped on and started the engine, delighting in
the low rumbling sound. “Unhook that last one and hop on,” he said
over the engine sound.

“Gotcha, captain,” she said, tossing the rope in the
boat and stepping down carefully onto the vinyl seat in the
back.

Chris watched her and realized with a sudden boyish
longing that he really wanted her to love his boat. He looked for a
reaction from her, some sign of approval. Why did it matter so much
to him that she liked the
Sherwood
? Maybe because it was an
important part of him. He had been meeting her on neutral territory
at East Pointe, she didn’t know the real him at all. Did it matter?
After all, their fates were on a collision course and she would
soon be far away anyway.

Right now, watching her dig a pair of sunglasses
from her purse and then turn back to the late afternoon sun
glinting sideways across the small waves, he couldn’t help but
think she looked happy to be right there.

As if on cue, she turned to him and said, “I love
your boat.”

Chris’ heart skipped.

“Thanks,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over
the rumble of the engine. “It’s a project I’ve been working on for
about a year. Needs some restoration,” he waved his hand at the
weathered wood floor and sides toward the back of the boat, “but
I’m working on it little by little.”

“Looks like a classic,” she said.

Chris grinned. “Not quite old enough to be a
classic. It’s the same age I am.”

“And that is?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“I guess that makes you a pair,” Whitney said. “It
also makes me the youngest thing on this boat.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question in his
eyes.

“Twenty-six,” Whitney said. “Why
Sherwood
?”

“When I was a kid, my favorite story was Robin
Hood.”

“Sherwood Forest.”

“Yep. Seems like a good name for a wood boat.”

“And do you identify with Robin Hood or the Sheriff
of Nottingham?” Whitney asked quizzically.

“I’m definitely a Robin Hood type,” he said. If only
she knew how much, he thought.

****

Whitney stood next to Chris for a while as he
piloted the boat out of the small harbor and then began tracing a
line around the island just far enough away from any swimmers but
close enough so she could see the homes and beaches easily from a
different perspective.

Chris stood up and rested one hand on the wheel
while wrapping the other arm around her waist. He kissed her cheek,
laughing as a long piece of brown hair whipped across his eyes and
made him swerve the boat. Whitney lost her balance temporarily and
he tightened his grip on her.