Will Work For Love (20 page)

She meant to say thank you for the tree with the
kiss. She thought it might also say how much she admired everything
he did for other people. Perhaps the kiss could say she was sorry
she had not tried to understand his motives for failing to do the
work at East Pointe. Maybe it could say how pleased they all were
with his skill in repairing the damage.

Instead, the kiss simply said how much she wanted
him and how much she had fallen in love with him in only a dozen
days.

****

There were lots of deliveries on Christmas Eve, the
day of the wedding. The cake was delivered in a white van, the
flowers were delivered in a pink van, and a catering van from the
hotel deposited a chef and his kitchen staff early in the day.
Relatives who were on St. Thomas for the wedding and were staying
at the Marriott also came and went throughout the day, so it was no
wonder that Whitney did not notice one of the deliveries.

Taylor knocked on the door of Whitney’s room with a
small package in her hand. “Special delivery,” she said.

Whitney opened the door and Taylor came in and sat
down on the edge of her bed. “This came for you,” she said.

“For me? What is it?” Whitney asked.

“Well I guess you’ll have to open it, silly.”

Whitney tore off the outer layer of brown paper.
Inside was a gift-wrapped box with a card taped on it. She sat down
on the bed next to Taylor and opened the envelope of the card with
trembling fingers.

December 21

I know that I don’t deserve to be a happy memory for
you from your time on St. Thomas, but I will always remember that
your skin is just this color when the sunset’s rays glance off it.
Merry Christmas.

Love, Chris

Taylor was reading over Whitney’s shoulder, so there
was no need for her to explain the tears streaming down her
face.

“This is dated three days ago,” Whitney said.

“I don’t understand.”

“Before we made up.”

“I guess he had confidence you would,” Taylor said.
“Open the box, what is it?”

Whitney pulled off the gift-wrap and removed the lid
from the long slim box. She knew what was inside before she even
looked.

“That’s beautiful,” Taylor said in the hushed tones
one might use to describe a priceless painting.

The necklace with alternating pink and silver beads
lay glistening in the box next to a matching pair of earrings. The
thing that attracted Whitney to it when she first saw it in the
shop was that it was a mixture of modern silver beads with salmon
pink beads made of shells. The islands meeting the outside world in
one beautiful necklace. She stared wordlessly at the gift.

“It’ll match your dress perfectly,” Taylor said.

“I know,” Whitney said, nodding slowly and smiling
at her best friend. “Thank you for inviting him to your
wedding.”

“My pleasure. I saw the way you lit up when he was
anywhere near you.”

“I love muscles,” Whitney giggled.

“He’s got’em,” Taylor said.

“And a whole lot more.”

“I’m still looking forward to hearing that whole
story,” Taylor replied.

“Let me see how it ends first.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Whitney stood in the back of the pavilion with
Taylor. The bride’s silky white dress flowed smoothly over her
protruding belly and stopped short of her sparkling sandals.
Whitney wore the salmon colored strapless dress Taylor chose from
the bridal store in Boston. The silk shantung flowed to her knees,
stopping there and exposing her shapely calves.

When the hired quintet from the hotel began
Mendelssohn’s bridal march, Whitney stepped forward slowly.
Taylor’s fiancé waited next to the minister with his best friend.
Guests occupied the three dozen rented white chairs decorated with
elegant salmon ribbon bows.

Whitney knew more than half of the invited guests
because of her long friendship with Taylor. But there was one
invited guest in particular she hoped to see. Her eyes scanned the
rows of chairs as she smiled and tried to look straight ahead while
walking slowly and holding her maid of honor bouquet. When she got
to her place by the minister, she temporarily halted her scanning
of the guests. All she wanted to see was her best friend, radiant,
stepping slowly down the aisle.

The white lights of the pavilion twinkled in the
early evening twilight. The fresh white paint of the newly repaired
pavilion gleamed in the glow of the lights that were Chris’ idea
and his doing. Whitney looked up at the lights, her eyes filled
with tears, then back at Taylor as she completed her walk down the
aisle. It was magical, just as she had hoped it would be.

There had been many days in the past two weeks where
she feared this wedding would be ruined by Hurricane Destiny. Now,
it seemed, Destiny had something in mind for her as well. But she
had no idea where it was leading her. Taylor handed her the bridal
bouquet and took both of her fiancé’s hands in hers. They all
turned toward the center to hear the minister speak the familiar
words.

When Whitney turned slightly to direct her attention
to the vows, she saw him. Seated in the third row back, clear on
the outside of the pavilion. Perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable
crowding toward the center when he hardly knew Taylor. But he had
come. Whitney had known he would.

His eyes were on her. She met his gaze and caught
the unspoken acknowledgement as his eyes dropped to her necklace
and then raised to her eyes again. He nodded slightly. She smiled
broadly. No one would mind. Smiles at her best friend’s wedding
were exactly what people expected to see.

She had done it. The pavilion and gazebo and
everything else at East Pointe were perfect. As a maid of honor,
she had come through.

In addition to celebrating that success, she had
something to look forward to at the reception. She hardly finished
her ceremonial walk down the aisle after the bride when she saw
Chris heading straight for her. He wore a black suit fitting his
broad shoulders perfectly. His smooth shaven face showed off his
happy grin and his blond curls were tamed to perfection.

He stopped only inches from her, his magnetism
almost indecent with so many people around. Fortunately, they were
all busy rushing to congratulate the bride and groom or queuing up
at the food tables. The quintet struck up a lighter piece of
classical music and the sounds wafted over the manicured lawn.

“You wore it,” he said.

“How could I resist?”

“The jeweler told me it was the one you tried
on.”

“So that
was
you. I thought I caught a
glimpse of your reflection, but then you were gone.”

Chris picked up her hand and raised it to his lips.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

Whitney smiled and stepped a little closer, resting
her free hand on the lapel of his coat. “It was right after that
that I discovered the clue that explained Chris Maxwell to me. Or
should I call you Robin Hood?”

“Not in this crowd,” he said in a mock whisper.
“That wouldn’t be too popular with the aristocracy here.”

She looked at him curiously. “Why didn’t you just
tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“That you used the insurance check to help dozens of
other people instead of fixing up the play lands of the rich?”

“Would you have understood?”

“Understood?” she asked. “Yes. But, it wouldn’t have
changed anything. I still needed this work to get done, and you
still did something that was—”

“Criminal?”

Whitney put a finger over his lips. “Forget all
those things I said. I know the truth now about you. But I still
wonder one thing.”

“Ask anything,” he said.

“Why? Why do you feel so compelled to help others
even at risk to your own business?”

Chris looked seriously down at her and hesitated.
“Do you remember what I said about my Dad always being driven by
the bottom line?”

“Yes,” she said, understanding coming over her.

“I don’t want to be like that. We didn’t see eye to
eye on the profit margins, and I thought it was best if I went my
own way.”

“You went pretty far,” she said.

Chris nodded. “I love it here,” he said seriously,
and then he grinned and kissed her on the lips. “Besides, I was
tired of snow.”

“I don’t miss that a bit,” she said.

“Speaking of which…”

“Yes?” she asked.

“I was talking to Mr. East about your business in
Boston.”

“Really? You were discussing
my
business?”

“We have testosterone. It’s our job to want to solve
problems.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So, I’m
curious, did you decide whether I should gamble the future of my
company by borrowing money to buy a chunk of land? Should I take
the giant leap of building my own apparel manufacturing
facility?”

“Yep.”

“Yep? As in, yep you decided what I should do about
all of that?”

Chris grabbed two glasses of champagne from a
strolling waiter and handed her one. “We think you should build the
factory and dive in.”

“Oh,” Whitney said. Going back to gray Boston where
the lease was up on her ex-boyfriend’s apartment and burying
herself in work might have sounded like a decent idea a few days
ago, but now the warm breeze on her skin and the incredible freedom
and happiness she found right here made it the last thing on earth
she wanted to do.

“You don’t sound happy about it,” Chris said. He
grinned at her and leaned in close, brushing his lips over hers. He
tasted like champagne and that wasn’t the only intoxicating thing
about the kiss. “Perhaps you should hear out the rest of the
plan.”

“By all means, what did your testosterone figure
out?”

“You want affordable land for one thing, especially
land that comes with tax breaks for creating jobs.”

“Of course, but that’s hard to come by anywhere near
Boston.”

“You’d want a workforce of reliable people. Good
weather helps, too.”

Whitney started to think there was some creativity
at work here. “Are you suggesting—”

“And, of course, you’d want a reliable builder.
Someone you already have a relationship with.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ve built a business here. I’ve found a
home here. I’m just missing one thing.”

“I’m missing one thing, too,” she said slowly. This
was incredible. Could she move here, build a business here, leave
her old life behind? Perhaps the real question would be…could she
have it any other way? Could she stand to leave this island and
leave Chris?

He watched her intently. “Will you stay?”

Would she? Could she? Kelly could manage the
business in Boston. She could run the facility here. She would
still see Taylor’s family when they came to this home. And Chris
was here.

“I think…I think I have to stay,” she said slowly
and raised her eyes seriously to his face. “I can’t give up Mavis’s
chicken.”

Chris pulled her close and kissed her. This kiss
held all the tension and desire of their previous ones, but
something more, too.

It held long days working together on storm
damage.

It held sunshine, sand, and water.

It held shared meals and stories.

It was possessive, suggesting more to come.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said in a husky
whisper.

Whitney pulled back slightly. “Can’t,” she said.
“Maid of honor duties.”

“How long?” he said.

She slipped her hands under his coat and ran her
fingers over the smooth white shirt beneath. She brushed her
fingers over his hard chest muscles. “Two hours, tops,” she said.
“Dinner, a short speech, cut the cake, some dancing, and then we’re
free.”

“Won’t Taylor miss you if we slip out of here
later?”

Whitney glanced over to Taylor and Jackson holding
hands and talking with guests under the twinkling white lights. She
looked radiant and happy. Whitney knew her old friend wouldn’t
begrudge her some happiness for herself.

“No,” Whitney said, “I think she’ll get along fine
without me tonight. But I did promise to tell her our whole story
one of these days.”

“Well, then,” Chris said, taking her arm and leading
her toward the edge of the lawn. “It all started about two weeks
ago. I was at the airport when I noticed the most beautiful girl I
had ever seen trapped in a revolving door with an enormous red
suitcase.”

Whitney punched him on the arm. “Better just skip to
the part where we live happily ever after,” she said.

They walked through the lighted pavilion now
deserted by the other guests in favor of the food and drink tables.
He pulled her close under the twinkling lights and kissed her and
suddenly took one step back. Whitney hardly had time to react
before she realized he was down on one knee in front of her.

“I love you, Whitney.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Will you live happily ever after with me?” he
asked.

She could hardly breathe. Maybe it was the warm
tropical air, the excitement of the beautiful wedding, the lights.
No, she knew what it was.

“Yes,” she said. He stood and crushed her into a
powerful embrace.

“Do you think they rent this place out for
weddings?” he asked.

“I think you might have to know the owners,” she
whispered, emotion rushing through her voice.

Whitney looked into Chris’ eyes, the white lights
reflecting in the blue like the sun on the waves. She felt a rush
of heat and love as he pulled her close and kissed her with such
abandon that several guests noticed and started clinking their
spoons on glasses.

“Then I think I’d better get busy making friends
with them,” he said.

THE END

ABOUT AMIE DENMAN

Amie Denman lives in a small town in her native Ohio
with her husband and sons. Her two cats and large yellow Labrador
are kind enough to share a sunny office where she lets her
imagination run wild. Reading books was her favorite escape as a
child, and growing up four houses away from the community library
encouraged her addition. When she’s not reading or writing, she
enjoys walking and running outside. The helpless victim of a
lifetime of curiosity, she’s been known to chase fire trucks on her
bicycle just to see what’s going on. Amie believes that everything
is fun: especially roller coasters, wedding cake, and falling in
love.