Will Work For Love (19 page)

“There isn’t a shack on this island he hasn’t had a
hand in fixin’ up for somebody. He’s got a heart of gold, and I for
one got the money to pay him back. Don’t know how he keeps goin’,
that man.” Mavis stopped and smiled, deep wrinkles swallowing her
cheeks and extending clear up past her eyes. “Gettin’ tired of
paying him in chicken. Though, God knows that man loves to eat.
Now, you take him that cash. He won’t take it from me.”

And then she was gone in a swirl of color, and
Whitney stared at the empty chair across from her. She was almost
afraid to believe what she’d just heard, yet it all made sense. The
pieces started clicking. The boat ride to deliver supplies to
Sammy. The grateful glances she had seen people sending him on the
street. The name of his personal boat.
The Sherwood
.
Apparently, Chris had been playing a grown-up version of Robin Hood
with the insurance checks of the wealthy. It was a risky game, but
she’d only caught him because the East family had an impromptu
wedding.

The waitress delivered a plate of food that smelled
delicious and should have been incredibly tempting, but Whitney’s
senses were filled with Chris. It felt like being filled with
bubbles and rising to the surface toward glimmering daylight. The
Chris she started to fall in love with was not the unscrupulous
criminal she thought she had caught. He didn’t do the work at East
Pointe, there was no denying that, but he took the money and helped
dozens of people who needed a home and a livelihood.

Whitney desperately wanted, needed to see Chris
right now. She wanted to feel his hands on her flesh and run her
fingers over his broad shoulders that had apparently been
shouldering the burdens of so many others.

But why hadn’t he explained? Did he think she
wouldn’t listen or wouldn’t care? That thought burst her little
bubbles considerably. She was completely focused on getting her
work done in time for the wedding…what would she have done
differently if she knew more about his motives? Well, she knew she
would certainly have been a whole lot nicer about it. And then made
him do the work anyway. And in the same amount of time.

She looked at the fat brown envelope. There was no
way out of it. It looked like she’d be walking up the street where
Mavis gestured until she found a tiny rescued house on the grounds
of Blue Isle Construction. It couldn’t be that hard to find. She
would knock on his door. What happened then, she didn’t know.

****

Chris thought Rick gave good advice as usual. Unlike
usual, though, he was actually going to take it. He walked home,
enjoying the sun on his shoulders, and headed straight for his
couch. A nap would clear his head. And maybe he’d do something
productive with the rest of the day. Even though Blue Isle was
officially closed for the holidays, he always had a half-dozen
projects needing attention. And he’d neglected that list while
preoccupied with Whitney.

The fresh air through the window and the silence of
his construction yard quickly lulled him into deep sleep. He didn’t
hear the light knock at his door, but he thought he heard a
familiar voice calling his name. It must be a dream, though,
because it sounded like Whitney’s voice saying “Chris, wake
up.”

He opened his eyes and looked at the open window in
the front of his house. There she was, looking in the window. Now
he knew he was dreaming.

“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked.

Chris was awake now. He sat up and looked at her,
unable to believe she found his house and baffled about why she was
here. Unless, he realized with a sinking feeling, there was some
problem with her construction project. She didn’t seem mad, though.
He had seen her mad, this wasn’t it.

He only needed three steps to get to his front door.
He swung it wide open, but she didn’t step in. She held out a thick
brown envelope to him.

“Mavis asked me to deliver that,” she said.

He looked at the envelope. “Doesn’t look like food,”
he said. It sounded like a stupid thing to say, but his brain was
foggy from his deep daytime nap. He hadn’t gotten much sleep in the
last week.

“It’s not food.” Whitney laughed and smiled at him.
Incredible. Here she was, and she just smiled at him like before
she’d found out he owned Blue Isle Construction.

“It’s cash,” she said. She handed it to him and he
took it without looking at it. He set it down on a small table
inside the door. He knew what it was for, but the question was, how
much did Mavis tell her?

“I just want to say that I think, that I might have,
you see, I realized something that I didn’t understand before.” She
let go of his hand and turned to face him, arms crossed over her
chest. A loud ringing in her purse interrupted her. She looked
chagrined and dug through her purse, glancing at the caller ID and
then looking apologetically at him.

“Hey, Taylor,” she said into the phone. “Is
everything okay?”

Chris could hear a woman’s voice, but he couldn’t
make out what she was saying. He was watching Whitney’s face and
imagining pulling her into his house and making love to her before
she got a chance to protest. Maybe while she was distracted by the
phone would be a good time.

“I’ll be right there,” he heard Whitney say, and
then she closed the phone and dropped it into her bag.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Rental car issue,” she said. “I guess Taylor’s dad
didn’t consider the number of people and luggage when he booked a
car. I have to go to the airport and pick them up.”

He reached out and touched her arm. “Maybe they
could wait a little while.”

It was tempting, so tempting. “I wish,” Whitney said
slowly, “but they’ve had a long flight. Taylor’s pregnant, and she
sounds tired and, well, I think she needs a friend.”

“You’re an incredible friend. You’ve spent your
entire vacation knocking yourself out.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Whitney
said.

Chris rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Whitney, it
should never have been this way. It’s all my fault, and I just want
to say I’m—”

Her phone rang again, and she read her friend’s name
on the caller ID. “Taylor again,” she said.

Chris nodded seriously and looked over Whitney’s
shoulder. “Where’s your Jeep?”

“On the street downtown. It’s a short walk.”

“I know,” he said, “I’m just sorry you have to
go.”

“Me, too,” she said. Based on her expression, Chris
allowed himself to hope she really meant it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The rest of that day and the next day were a blur.
Taylor kept Whitney constantly busy with wedding details, but they
also found time for shopping and manicures.

“You’re quiet,” Taylor observed as they ate lunch
poolside at the Marriott after their spa appointments. “Are you
worried about your business at home?”

“A little,” Whitney said. “Kelly’s hounding me to
make a decision about expanding. I just don’t know about taking a
huge leap into manufacturing. I don’t think we can grow much more
as we are, but do I really want to build a building and hire a
bunch of people? Where would I even build it?”

“Is that the only thing bothering you?” Taylor
asked. “You’ve always been business-savvy and I haven’t noticed you
getting too overly nervous about it, even though Kelly can be
really bossy.” Taylor looked closely at Whitney and grinned at her.
“This looks to me more like…” she tapped her temple and squinted
her eyes like a mad scientist. “Man trouble,” she pronounced.

Whitney rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yeah, right.
Like I have time for that.”

“Now that you mention it, I was wondering what
you’ve been doing down here by yourself for two weeks,” Taylor
said.

Whitney sipped her fruity pink drink. “Long story,”
she said. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to
Boston.”

“I want every sordid detail,” Taylor said.

“Agreed,” Whitney said. She hoped that, by the time
she got home, the cold Boston air would take some of the sting out
of it all.

****

That night, the family ate an early dinner then lit
a fire in the seldom-used fireplace in the living room at East
Pointe. Taylor and Jackson stretched on the couch watching a movie,
Taylor’s parents were outside looking over the pavilion, and
Whitney felt like a fifth wheel. She considered going upstairs to
read or watch TV in her room, but there was a knock on the
door.

“I’ll get it,” she called.

Whitney opened the kitchen door and all she saw was
a giant tree. An evergreen tree. The fragrance of it immediately
filled her with nostalgia. It was a very large tree, much taller
than she was and too wide to come through the door. She still
couldn’t see who was on the other side of the tree, but her heart
told her not to have any doubt about it.

“Tree delivery. Straight from Maine,” a familiar
voice said. Chris poked his head around the side of the tree and
smiled the rakish grin she had seen that first day at the airport
when they met in the revolving door.

“Who is it?” Taylor called from the living room
couch.

“Special delivery,” Whitney called back. “Stay right
there.”

Whitney stepped through the kitchen door and closed
it behind her. “How did you do this?” she asked.

“Well,” Chris said, “in addition to a thriving
construction company, you might recall that I also own a small
freight company. I also have two generous parents in Maine who
insist that I have a New England Christmas even though I have
decamped for the Caribbean.”

“This is your tree?”

“It’s from my parents’ property, but it’s not
exactly mine. I asked them to send two trees this year.”

Whitney breathed in the wonderful evergreen scent
and took in the sight of Chris standing before her holding the
trunk of the tree in one large hand. She smiled giddily. She had no
idea how to reconcile their relationship, but the warm blood
coursing through her veins made it all seem right.

“For the record, I ordered the trees a week
ago.”

“Before—”

“Before you knew you should be mad as hell at me,”
he said.

“There’s no peace offering like a Maine pine. I
think it actually pre-dates the olive branch,” Whitney said.

“Where would you like me to set it up?”

“Follow me.”

Whitney led him around the outside of the house and
through the double doors into the living room. When she and Chris
came through the doors with the tree, Taylor’s eyes opened wide
with surprise. She looked from Chris to Whitney and complete
understanding dawned on her face. She raised one eyebrow and
grinned at Whitney. Taylor’s parents came in right behind the
tree.

“This is Chris Maxwell,” Whitney said and she
introduced the entire East family one at a time.

“He owns Blue Isle Construction,” she explained.
Taylor’s parents glanced at each other, their expressions
darkening. “His company did all the repair work from Hurricane
Destiny.”

“I hope it didn’t give you too much trouble,” Taylor
said. “It looks wonderful to me.”

Her parents said nothing, apparently reserving
comment and letting Whitney take the lead.

“My pleasure,” said Chris. His eyes rested on
Whitney as he spoke and several other sets of eyes turned her
direction.

“Do we have a tree stand somewhere so we can get
this set up?” Whitney asked.

“I’ve got an extra one in my truck,” Chris
volunteered. “Be right back.”

As soon as he was out the door, Taylor spun on
Whitney. “Would he happen to be the main character of the long
story you were going to tell me?”

Whitney nodded. She didn’t trust herself to
speak.

“I’d say it’s going to be a great story,” said
Taylor’s fiancé.

“Does it have a happy ending?” Taylor’s mom asked,
looking pointedly at Whitney and waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” said Whitney.

Chris returned with a heavy iron tree stand and made
short work of setting the tree up where Taylor’s parents directed
him. Her mom disappeared into the kitchen and came back with
eggnog. They toasted the tree as they watched its branches slowly
drape and settle in its new location. The room smelled like
Christmas.

Kitty East offered Chris cookies from a silver
platter. “Thank you for the tree, Mr. Maxwell,” she said. “It
reminds me of home.”

“I remember my first Christmas on the island three
years ago. It seemed so strange. I’ve gotten used to it now,
though, and I doubt that I’ll ever move back to Maine.”

“I can sure see the appeal,” said Mr. East.

Chris stayed for a while and they found some
decorations in the Christmas boxes to decorate the Maine pine.
Whitney noticed Taylor slipped a white envelope to Chris when she
thought Whitney was preoccupied with putting the star on the
tree.

Whitney walked Chris to his truck after they
finished drinking the eggnog and decorating the tree.

“What did Taylor give you?” she asked.

Chris pulled the white envelope from his pocket.
Whitney immediately recognized it because she helped Taylor pick
them out. “An invitation to her wedding,” she said. “Tomorrow
night. Christmas Eve.”

“Do you think her parents want me anywhere
around?”

Whitney considered it. The Easts were forgiving
people. Especially after she got Taylor out of the way earlier in
the day so she could explain Chris’ Robin Hood actions to her
parents. While not thrilled that their estate had been neglected,
they also agreed not to press the matter legally.

“They’re forgiving people,” Whitney said, shrugging.
“Especially since everything turned out all right. Maybe someday
we’ll tell Taylor the whole story, but not now.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“Yes.”

Chris pulled her close and held her for a moment.
There was no pressure, just the warmth of her body pressed
intimately against his. She enjoyed breathing in his scent mixed
with some pinesap stuck to his clothes. She could have stood there
for a long time, but she wanted something more. She looked up and
her lips found his.