Will Work For Love (13 page)

“Beautiful,” he said.

“It is,” she agreed.

“I mean you.”

Whitney felt a hot flash of hunger race over her
when he touched his tongue to hers. She felt his hand move over her
breast, teasing her and promising more.

“Are you watching where we’re going?”

“Who cares where we’re going?” he answered huskily
as he leaned in to claim her lips for a moment before withdrawing
with a groan. “But, I guess I could throw out the anchor.”

“Somewhere where we can be alone,” she said.

Chris steered the
Sherwood
into a small cove
that looked deserted. He cut the engine and threw the anchor
overboard. The late afternoon sun was still warm. Whitney sat on
the vinyl bench seat spanning the back of the boat and watched
Chris secure the anchor. They were totally alone in the fading
light on a softly rocking boat. The blue water was probably warm
enough for a swim, but that wasn’t what Whitney wanted to dive
into.

“I haven’t shown you all of the boat,” Chris
said.

“What else is there?”

“Cuddy cabin. In case you ever want to sleep on
board.”

“Show me,” Whitney said.

Chris went through a small door next to the
captain’s chair. Whitney followed him and found a small bedroom
with a low bed that took up almost the entire space. Small windows
ringed the top of the cabin and Chris opened a hatch that led up to
the top deck. Whitney realized that if she stood on the bed, she
would be able to stick her head out the hatch and look around. Not
what she planned to do on the bed.

She barely had time to notice any other details
because Chris’ nearness was all she could think about. She turned
into his arms and reached up to pull his head down to hers. He was
already leaning down because he was too tall to stand in the cabin,
their lips found each other’s, hungrily taking what they
wanted.

Their mouths and tongues intertwined and their hands
roved over each other, feeding the fire of their need. Whitney ran
her hands under Chris’ shirt and her fingers played over his warm
muscular back. When he did the same thing to her, it was like a
catalyst starting a chemical reaction. She didn’t know if she
pulled off her shirt or if he did, but they were both shirtless a
moment later, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. In seconds,
they were totally naked and Whitney felt the cool fabric of the bed
against her back. More importantly, she felt hot skin against her
front.

Had she stopped to notice, she would have felt the
boat rocking with the passion of their contact. His lips moved
slowly down the front of her body. Whitney forced herself to
breathe. She knew where those kisses were going. He took her breast
in his teeth while he rolled her other nipple between his fingers.
She closed her eyes. She was torn between wanting the sensation to
go on all night and begging him to move farther and faster down her
body.

“Say the word,” he whispered huskily.

“Yes,” she said.

He looked like he wouldn’t be able to take much
more. He knelt between her thighs and leaned over her.

“I’ve been dying to do this all day,” he said.

****

A little while later, they both awoke from a brief,
deep nap.

“Again,” he said raggedly. “I could make love to you
a thousand times.”

Whitney giggled. “We’d get hungry,” she said.

“I brought food. It might last us a while if we
ration it.”

Whitney looked up through the open hatch above her.
“It’s starting to get dark,” she said.

“I can feel my way in the dark,” he said, brushing
his fingers over her breast to prove his point.

“Other boats won’t run into us?” she asked.

Chris stopped toying with her body and leaned on one
elbow. “Good point,” he said. “I’ll turn on the running lights
while I get the food basket.”

He stepped into a pair of shorts and disappeared
into the darkness. Whitney slipped his discarded T-shirt over her
head before following him up on deck.

“Let’s eat out here,” she suggested.

Chris flipped a switch on the control panel and red
and green lights appeared down the sides of the boat. He sat down
next to her on the vinyl seat and put the picnic basket between
them. Whitney opened the basket and pulled out sandwiches wrapped
in aluminum foil, a bag of potato chips, and two beers.

“Hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I should make you give me back my shirt,” he
said.

“Are you cold?”

“Nope. It’s just a shame to cover up such a
beautiful body.”

“Maybe I’ll let you earn it back later. But I’ll
warn you, you’ll have to take it off me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

They ate their sandwiches and chips as the sun
slowly sank into the water and disappeared. It was almost totally
dark except for the port and starboard running lights on the small
boat. Whitney didn’t need light to know that Chris’ eyes never left
her face, except to trail down her body on occasion. She put her
feet in his lap as he opened her beer and handed it to her. She
drank the cold beer, luxuriating in the warm breeze that softly
whispered in the wake of the departed sun.

Chris finished his beer and began to rub her feet,
kneading with his strong hands until she would have done anything
for him or let him do anything to her. She closed her eyes and let
the sensual waves of delight run up her legs and across her body
until she wanted him just as much as she had almost an hour
ago.

She opened her eyes and realized he was watching her
face. “Have I earned back that shirt yet?” he asked.

“Take it off me,” she said.

His hands slid from her feet and all the way up her
body, working a little magic as they went. The shirt was quickly
thrown aside and forgotten as the
Sherwood
rocked vigorously
then gently on waves of desire and satisfaction.

Chapter Fifteen

Whitney must have fallen asleep. She dreamed about
phantom men working at East Pointe. She could clearly see a skinny
older man measuring and sawing, but a broad shouldered blond man
edged around the shadows on the outsides of her dream where she
could never see his face.

A small movement awakened her; she opened her eyes
in time to see Chris’ broad shoulders in the doorway to the cuddy
cabin as he went up the two steps. She gasped, startled by the
similarity to her dream. For a moment, she imagined him as the
shadowy man. He stopped and turned toward her when he heard her
sharp intake of breath.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “I guess I was just a little
disoriented when I woke up.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I have no idea how long I was
asleep, but we were both out for a while.”

“Must be the rocking,” Whitney said.

“Among other things,” Chris replied. Even in the
darkness, Whitney could tell he was smiling. He turned to continue
out on deck, and she noticed he wore his blue shirt. She thought of
her dream. Odd, she thought, shaking her head. Whitney found her
clothes and pulled them on, needing to get her bearings after being
so carried away for the last several hours. Making love and
sleeping on a boat in a hidden harbor in the dark with an achingly
handsome man. No one at home would believe her.

She finished dressing and went on deck. “The lights
are out,” she said.

“I know. Must’ve killed the battery.”

Chris had a panel in the floor pulled up and he
shone a flashlight down into it.

“Can I help?” Whitney asked.

“Should be no problem. I’ve got a spare
battery.”

“If the boat won’t start,” Whitney said lightly, “we
may have to stay here until someone rescues us. Maybe they won’t
find us until tomorrow morning.”

Chris put down the flashlight and looked up at
Whitney. He stood and kissed her gently on the lips. “God, how I
would love that,” he said with a trace of regret.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Well, you see, I’m helping a friend get a fancy-ass
estate ready for a fancy-ass wedding in just a few days. If we
don’t get back to work at some point, the wedding party will be
wearing hard hats.”

Whitney sighed. “I guess you’ve got me there. I’ll
hold the flashlight.”

Chris finished whatever he was doing and put the
cover back into place. He took back the flashlight and used it to
find the key then turn it in the ignition. Nothing happened. He
tried it again. And again. Still nothing. No sound of an engine
starting or even vaguely trying to start. Just silence. Actually,
it wasn’t total silence. One sound carried softly on the warm
darkened tropical air. It was Chris swearing quietly as he tried
turning the key one more time.

“Looks like we’re going to have to swim it in,”
Chris said.

Whitney looked at the pitch-black water and pictured
sea monsters of all descriptions. She could almost feel slimy
creatures brushing her legs in the dark and hauling her off to the
depths to scare her to death before eating her waterlogged
body.

“Can you steer?” Chris asked.

“Steer?”

“The boat.”

“Oh, sure. I guess that means I’ll be staying in the
boat.”

She heard him chuckling quietly in the dark then
felt his warm hands surround her. His lips grazed her forehead.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do my dirty work,” he said,
“I like you too much.” He pointed toward some lights on shore,
probably two hundred feet away. “We’re headed for that light.”

“Is that where your car is?” Whitney was totally
disoriented in the unfamiliar location and darkness.

“Nope, we’ll have to figure that out when we get
there.”

Chris hauled in the anchor, took off his clothes,
and jumped into the water with a rope. To Whitney’s surprise, the
boat started, slowly at first, to move toward the lights on shore.
She didn’t know how good a swimmer you had to be to pull a boat,
but Chris was putting those impressive shoulders to work. First the
revolving door, and now this. Maybe she ought to seriously think
about hiring him as a model for her sportswear business. He looked
like a man who definitely worked out. He would look fantastic in
everything and nothing at all.

Slowly, they moved toward shore. Whitney called out
to Chris a few times to ask if he was okay. The lights were much
closer, and she could barely make out a small light at the end of
what looked like an empty dock. Chris was almost to the dock. He
crawled out of the water and on to the dock, reeling the boat in.
Whitney felt a whoosh of relief when she felt the boat bump gently
against the dock and then again when it was securely tied.

Chris stood naked in the dim glow from the lone
light at the end of the dock. Whitney couldn’t help staring. Had it
only been a little while ago they were entangled in each other’s
arms exploring every part of their bodies? Now, he seemed distant.
Maybe it was the boat trouble and the darkness that crept between
them.

“You can’t believe how often I get rescued by naked
guys who can swim,” she said lightly.

“How about getting stranded by idiots who leave
their lights on and kill their batteries?” he said.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t give those guys the time of
day.”

Chris stepped back on the boat and took Whitney in
his arms. He was naked and soaking wet. He was still breathing a
little heavy from swimming the boat in to the dock. She felt him
shiver a little in the night air, and it sent a tremor down her
body.

“Sorry,” he said, releasing her and stepping back a
little, “I’m getting you all wet.”

“I’m a tough girl, I can take it.”

He stepped closer again and kissed her deeply. It
was a kiss full of longing, a kiss that seemed to recognize that
the romantic part of the night was over and was going to be
sacrificed on the altar of practical problems.

“I have to make a phone call,” he said finally, “or
we’ll be here all night.”

“And the problem would be?” She said playfully, even
though she knew they had to do something practical. They had to get
working on the finish carpentry, fresh paint, and paving stones to
get the wedding area ready.

She wanted to stop him from making a phone call, but
she didn’t. She wanted to throw all practicality to the wind and
dig in her heels and continue to enjoy the freedom she felt with
Chris, especially rocking in the small harbor in the tropical sea.
But she didn’t.

She watched as Chris searched for his clothes in the
darkness. He picked up his shorts and dug through the pockets,
finally finding a cell phone. When he flipped it open, it made an
unnatural bluish glow in the darkness of the boat, ending their
romantic night with its intrusion.

****

Making this call was the last thing on earth Chris
wanted to do. Why couldn’t he just stay there all night enjoying
Whitney’s company and her body? He never wanted to let her go. But
he was stuck.

He knew the day of reckoning was coming as soon as
he realized she was there to get East Pointe in shape and it was
his fault it wasn’t. The showdown was going to happen sooner or
later. He had just hoped for later.

The phone call he was about to make was the only one
he could. Of all the people he knew who could find him and bail him
out tonight, only Rick Churchill would be the one. His best friend
and foreman would save him and doom him at the same time. As soon
as Whitney saw Rick, she would put the whole story together and he
didn’t even want to think about her reaction. Would she think he
was just using her? Would she take down him and his whole
company?

Playing with fire had just turned dangerous and he
would be feeling the pain in only a few minutes.

He dialed the number, feeling Whitney’s eyes on him.
He knew she could sense his tension, and he desperately wanted to
reach out to her and tell her that he’d never meant to hurt her or
deceive her. If he could only explain himself, would she even
listen? He wondered what she was thinking as she watched him dial
the phone.