Will Work For Love (15 page)

She went down the hallway into Taylor’s bedroom
where the searchlights weren’t quite as strong. She carefully stood
to the side of the window where she couldn’t be seen from the
outside. She looked. Just one little peek. And then she wished she
hadn’t.

Chris stood almost directly beneath her. His gaze
wandered over the lit-up lawn as he pulled his shirt off and threw
it away from him. It was a profoundly sexy move. Whitney couldn’t
help but run her eyes over his bare chest and shoulders. She
couldn’t believe that those same muscled arms had wrapped her up
just a few hours ago and made her feel so…

She jerked back and leaned against the inside of the
wall. She was done looking for the night. There would be no more
watching him as he worked. He was going to finish her work,
Taylor’s wedding would be perfect, and
then
she’d have to
decide if she would press the legal issue with Blue Isle. If the
work got done and the wedding wasn’t harmed, what would be the
point of suing Blue Isle and running that miserable little thieving
company into the ground? After being used by Chris Maxwell for the
last week, Whitney sure thought he had it coming.

But then…he had worked night and day and the
craftsmanship was amazing. Taylor’s parents would probably have a
lot to say about Blue Isle, the property management company, and
the obvious insurance problems, but Whitney would have to think
about what she’d say if they asked her opinion about pursuing the
legalities. Whitney had plenty to think about in the next few days.
Which was a good thing, because she sure wasn’t going to be getting
any sleep anyway.

****

The next morning, Whitney carefully pulled the thick
pillows off her head and listened experimentally. She must have
fallen asleep sometime long after midnight. Despite pulling down
the shades, drawing the curtains, turning on her iPod to soothing
music, and smothering herself with pillows, Chris disturbed her all
night. The light and noise could be shut out to some extent, but
thoughts of him were all over her mind like handprints on
glass.

She felt about as fragile as glass this morning.
Since her arrival on the island, things had pretty much gone wrong
completely. The wedding venue was coming together, but she had
entangled herself in a disastrous romance, and she was getting no
sleep.

Maybe today would be the turning point. She would
take charge of her life again and be the Whitney Oliver that people
in Boston would recognize. She would call Taylor and assure her
that all was well. Perhaps she would even call her business
manager, Kelly, and discuss the future of her company. Buying
property for a factory far, far away from here? Sure. Why not?

She was in the mood for anything that would take her
mind off the infuriating Chris Maxwell. If he wasn’t so damnably
attractive, incredibly likable, and so kissable, it would be a
whole lot easier to find a distraction. Perhaps talking to Kelly
about their business decisions and the company’s possible expansion
would be just the thing to slap her with a dose of good sobering
Boston reality.

Whitney climbed out of bed and cautiously approached
the window. The soft early morning light felt its way through the
window and gave her tired eyes a generous view of the lawn.

The gazebo looked perfect. It was perfectly
straight, there were no missing boards, and there were no broken
boards. She could see it clearly from her window and it looked
almost exactly like it had the last time she was here to visit
Taylor’s family. All the wreckage around it was cleared away. With
a new coat of white paint, it would be perfect.

The pavilion was completely restored and already
painted, thanks in large part to her own effort. And all that time
she thought Chris was her knight in shining armor and helping her
out of something that was a whole lot more flattering and sexy than
obligation. He was trying to save his own ass the whole time he was
flirting with her, making love to her, and making her fall…

No, she had not fallen for him. And even if she had,
she would remove that sliver from her heart and forge ahead like it
had never happened. She had a mission, a goal. East family arriving
in less than two days. There would be no moping over being used by
a man who happened to be the sexiest man she’d ever met. She would
think about something else. Like making ribbon bows for all the
folding chairs that she would have delivered in time for the
wedding.

****

Whitney drove her rented Jeep to town and sought out
the place where she’d eaten breakfast last Sunday morning, Bistro
Sol. She and Chris had been back there once since then. It wasn’t
that she was trying to revive the happy memories of earlier in the
week; it was just that she didn’t know of any other place that was
open early and made such good coffee. When she entered, though, she
hadn’t planned on or thought about the reception she might get.

The young girl whom Whitney had seen blush and smile
at Chris earlier in the week as she flirted with him was at her
usual place. She eyed Whitney coldly.

“What’ll you have?”

“Coffee, for starters,” Whitney said.

Without waiting for Whitney to finish looking at the
menu overhead to finish her order, the girl promptly poured a cup
of coffee, smashed a plastic lid on top and handed it over.

“Dollar fifty,” she said. Her tone indicated
complete dismissal.

“But,” Whitney began. She was bewildered by the
girl’s attitude, but the light suddenly dawned. The girl resented
her for being with Chris. Whitney was not going to be scared off
from breakfast by a teenager. “I’d like to order something else
also.”

“It’s time for my break,” the girl said and
disappeared through the door into the kitchen.

Whitney waited for a minute, the only movement in
the coffee shop coming from the sunlight glancing in the front
window. She heard the shop door jingle behind her and was almost
afraid to turn around. It couldn’t be Chris; she made sure he was
working at East Pointe before she left. She briefly considered
offering to bring him something to eat, but then she remembered how
he lied to her since she met him. She decided he could go hungry.
Still, the shop door jingling and the quiet tread behind her set
her nerves on edge and she couldn’t help thinking of last Sunday
when just such a thing had happened.

Whitney raised her chin and turned slightly so she
could see the person standing close behind her. It was a
middle-aged woman dressed like a tourist. Whitney smiled at her,
partly out of relief and partly at the gaudy T-shirt the woman was
wearing. It was not Chris, and she told herself that she was very
glad it wasn’t.

“Is anybody working here?” the woman asked.

“There was, but she went in back.”

“I need coffee,” the tourist said, and she reached
around Whitney and rang the little silver bell on the counter.
“What’s wrong with people on this island?”

An older woman bustled through the swinging doors
behind the breakfast counter looking somewhere between apologetic
and pissed off. Whitney could only imagine the multitude of
possible reasons for that.

“Help you?” she asked Whitney.

“I got coffee, but I’d like one of your delicious
turnovers, too,” Whitney said politely.

“Thought Mr. Maxwell might have shared with you,”
the woman said.

Whitney’s breath caught for a moment. So this was a
new development. People on the island were talking about them?

“He was in here already today. Got enough food for
five people,” the woman continued as she slipped an apple turnover
into a white bakery bag.

Whitney couldn’t think of a thing to say except
perhaps to ask the older woman if she’d ever seen Chris eat. He
could probably eat the breakfast of five people.

“Course, he’s always doin’ stuff for other people,”
the woman continued. “Probably down on the docks sharing it with
anybody.”

Or storing it up to last all day, Whitney thought,
because he sure as heck knew she wouldn’t be filling his tank. He
could go hungry saving his miserable company for all she cared.

“Don’t mind my girl,” the woman continued as she
took Whitney’s money and punched some numbers into the cash
register. “She’s just a little jealous. Every woman on this island
wants what rumor has it you’ve been getting.”

Whitney’s jaw dropped and she would have said
something, but the insistent tourist behind her was already
stepping into place and placing an order for three coffees and a
half dozen pastries. Whitney took her coffee and small white bag
and stepped out of the way to put her change into her purse.
Confusion shoved her hunger aside. What was the real deal with
Chris Maxwell and, more importantly, how did he get under her skin?
Several layers deep.

Well, she had a tougher skin than most females. When
she got back to East Pointe after a few more errands in town, he
wasn’t going to find any cracks in her exterior. He’d be burning
the midnight oil and finishing her work. Or, as she planned to
remind him, she would not hesitate to crush Blue Isle Construction
like it had almost crushed the wedding dreams of her best friend.
Whitney knew a thing or two about loyalty.

****

Whitney went downtown and sat in her Jeep, watching
the water and the harbor, adrift. She could go back to East Pointe
to eat. Of course, that would mean sitting alone in the house while
she heard Chris working outside. She could sit outside and torment
him by eating in front of him and watching him work. That sounded
fun, but mean. In the end, she elected to stay in town because she
could run several other errands after she finished eating. The
flower shop was on her agenda, and then she had to go to the chair
rental place and stop by the caterers to finalize plans. Still, it
wouldn’t take her all day.

What on earth was she going to do all day? She
thought of the paperback novels and swimsuits she had packed. She
had a Jeep and could go exploring. It wouldn’t be much fun by
herself, but she was determined to avoid Chris entirely today and
make him work. Unless, of course, she ought to be checking up on
him.

She sipped her coffee and thought about what she
would do as a businesswoman. She would keep a close eye on
production. That’s how she had built her business into a thriving
one that was ready to expand. That’s how she made sure that work
was done to her satisfaction and on time. That was the kind of
thinking she needed to apply in this case. It was no longer
personal. It was business.

Whitney finished her apple turnover, letting the
smooth sugar flow into her veins and awaken all her nerves and
senses. Sugar and caffeine. God’s gift to those who didn’t sleep at
night. She put the Jeep in gear and drove with determination and
resolve back to East Pointe.

Just business.

Chapter Eighteen

Chris looked up in surprise when Whitney appeared on
the lawn wearing her work clothes. She had a paint-flecked bandanna
tied over her hair. Faded jeans hugged her slim hips, a walking
temptation. What the hell was she doing? Was she out here to
distract him so he’d find it hard to finish the work and save Blue
Isle?

Maybe he should apologize. A sincere apology and
some serious groveling might go a long way. He could tell her the
truth about how he’d been cashing insurance checks from the rich
and helping his poor island friends. Was it generous? Yes. Legal?
No. Whitney might understand, she might even admire his
philanthropy.

Who was he kidding? She was here representing rich
landowners he’d let down. Her last threat last night was to take
down his company. That would put him and a number of really decent
guys out of work. She could hurt him extensively with what she
already knew, so why tell her anything else? It would probably just
be used against him in the end anyway. Unless he got very
lucky.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come out here
and why I’m wearing work clothes when I could just let you sweat it
out alone and watch from my bedroom window.”

“Yeah,” Chris said cautiously.

“I’m a hands-on employer at home, and I see no
reason why I can’t be the same here. I’ll be right here making sure
you stay on target. I may pitch in and help, too. Not that you
deserve it, but it’s the best way for me to stay involved with the
project.”

“I can appreciate that,” he answered.

“Is that because you’re such an efficient business
owner yourself?” she asked sarcastically. “Not to mention
ethical.”

Chris took a deep breath, but didn’t flinch. “I’ve
never had any complaints before,” he said.

“Well, I’m very happy for you. I guess maybe you did
what you promised to do in the past.”

“I’m doing what I promised to do right now.”

“But only because I’m making you,” she said. “I’m
curious. If I hadn’t shown up last week to check on the progress of
this place and I hadn’t raised hell about it—”

“If you’re wondering if I was ever going to do the
work I was paid for, the answer is yes,” he said coldly.

“When?”

Despite his decision not to tell her about his Robin
Hood business practices, he wavered for a moment. He didn’t like
his integrity being questioned. No matter what else she thought of
him, he didn’t want her thinking he was a thief. But there was
probably no way he could explain. She didn’t know the people whose
lives, businesses, and homes were destroyed by Hurricane Destiny.
She had a big heart, but how could he begin to make her
understand?

Whitney raised an eyebrow at him. “When?”

Chris turned back to the boards he was easing into a
pattern on the gazebo floor. “When I got around to it,” he
muttered.

“Well, right now you’re down to the wire,” Whitney
said. “Taylor’s parents and the rest of her family will arrive in
less than two days.”