by Amie Denman
“A man’s gotta eat, and the only things I can cook are pancakes and microwave popcorn.”
“I think I can do better than that.”
Whitney went into the house and dialed up a pizza delivery place. It wasn’t glamorous, but if she served it with some cold beer, it would make a meal. It was almost dark anyway, so they might as well enjoy a quiet dinner. They couldn’t work after dark, so they would have the whole night before them. And then what? Would he stay late? Would they…
A loud noise startled Whitney and bright light swept across the floor of the dining room. She followed the path of light and discovered the entire lawn was lit up like daylight. Whatever that loud noise was, it was powering some huge construction lights. Maybe Chris was planning to work all night. That answered her question about what they might do after dark.
Whitney went outside and headed across the illuminated lawn.
“I feel like I’m at a football game,” she said as she found Chris tentatively pulling down some damaged boards and stepping carefully beneath the unsteady pavilion. He stopped what he was doing and smiled crookedly at her.
“Wanna play cheerleader and quarterback? I’ll take you to the homecoming dance if you’ll let me copy your math homework.”
“I was never cheerleader material. And I wouldn’t let you copy my homework even if you—”
“What?”
“Never mind,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “I’m a nice girl.”
He looked her over from head to toe, drinking in every one of her curves and making her feel like a display in a shop window. “Too bad,” he said.
Too good, she thought. He seemed too good to be true. He took out a tape measure from his pocket and measured boards while he whistled. It was not hard to believe him when he said he knew what he was doing. He seemed completely in his element walking around inspecting, probing, and measuring the pavilion. Maybe this would turn out all right after all.
“Pizza will be here in a half an hour, and there’s cold beer in the fridge,” she said. “What can I do to help in the meantime?”
“Could you find paper and a pencil? I’m going to start cutting some boards, but I need you to write down some measurements first.”
“What boards? Don’t we need to go to a lumberyard or something like that?”
Chris raised his eyebrows and pointed to a tarp-covered pile next to a trailer that tall lights were mounted to. “Looks like the lumber fairy came. Must be the same fairy that dropped off these convenient lights.”
“Amazing,” Whitney said. “Where did that come from?”
“Had to be your construction company. It was here when I got here.”
A smile spread across her face. She hadn’t noticed the pile of construction supplies, but she hadn’t really looked at any of the stuff that appeared yesterday while she was out on the boat with Chris. She was leaving all that worry to Blue Isle Construction. Now she was glad that those jerks at least dropped off a mountain of materials before they left on their two-week Christmas vacation.
Chapter Eleven
They ate hot pizza and drank cold beer on the patio overlooking the lawn. Chris turned off the obnoxious construction lights while they ate.
“I look better by candlelight,” he explained.
“I think you look fantastic in any light.”
“So do you,” he said. He reached across the small table and covered her hand with his. He looked at her hard and she could feel her body start to respond in far more places than the hand he was touching. She could tell he felt it, too. He leaned back in his chair, removing his hand from hers.
“Better get back to work,” he said huskily, “or I won’t be able to concentrate on anything except you.”
“Might be a problem,” Whitney said reluctantly.
“Could be hazardous running the saw when my mind is on you.”
“Hate for you to lose a hand. You’re so good with those.”
“You only know the half of it,” he said.
Whitney took their plates into the kitchen and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher. Even though she was only occupied for a few minutes, by the time she got back to the lawn, Chris was already at work. He had the lights cranked up to full daylight, a ladder propped up against the side of the pavilion, and a saw set up.
“You don’t waste time,” Whitney said.
“We don’t have much, do we? Wedding is on Christmas Eve, you’ve got guests arriving in—”
“Eight days.”
“Better give me that list of measurements.”
Whitney watched as Chris worked with confidence and precision. He measured, sawed, and nailed boards into place. Before her eyes, the pavilion started to look like the pavilion she remembered. Missing boards were slowly replaced, broken ones were repaired, columns were starting to stand up straighter. She was getting tired just watching Chris work and trying to help him by fetching boards, nails, and whatever else he asked for. She never got tired of watching his muscular arms, and generally tempting body perched in front of her on a ladder. A view she could get used to.
It had to be getting close to midnight, though, and the thought of snuggling into bed was getting more and more appealing. Her back ached from doing what she could to help and she could almost feel the massaging hot jets in the large sunken tub upstairs. The magnificently smooth sheets in her large guest bed would feel so good against her skin. She glanced over at Chris standing on a ladder whistling and hammering like he just got started. How the heck did he have so much energy? Maybe those massively muscled shoulders of his were actually a power plant of some kind.
“Need a break?”
Chris paused, hammer in hand, and looked down at her. “Very tempting,” he said.
“So…”
“A few more nails, and then I’ll hang it up for the night,” he grinned at her. “It’s way past my bedtime.”
“Is anyone waiting up for you?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have to be anywhere first thing in the morning?”
“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” he asked.
“Do you want it to be?” Whitney asked softly.
“Does it come with breakfast?”
“If you’ll come down from that ladder and kill those lights, it will even come with a long hot soak in a large sunken tub.”
“And breakfast?”
Whitney smiled. “The works.”
“I’m right behind you.”
****
Chris was right behind her as she entered through the double glass doors into the living room. Right behind her as she climbed the stairs, feeling his presence in every one of her nerves. Right behind her as she walked down the hallway to her guest room with an adjoining bathroom. He followed her into the bathroom and stood close behind her as she turned on the hot water and started to fill the tub.
Without a word, Chris turned her around so she faced him. Slipped his hands under her shirt and pulled it up over her head. Her nipples hardened in the cool air of the bathroom. It felt like they were the only people on earth. A few days ago, if she imagined herself inviting a man she’d only known a few days into a sunken bath, she would have laughed. Right now, it felt totally right.
She reached for him, slipping her hands under his shirt and running her fingers over his muscular chest and back. It wasn’t enough. They were next to an enticing tub filling with deliciously hot soapy water. She pulled his shirt off slowly, enjoying the act of undressing him. It was obvious he appreciated it, too, and he took over and finished getting completely and magnificently naked.
The tub was almost ready. Whitney tested the water and then removed what little else she wore.
“Even better than I imagined,” Chris said, his eyes devouring her naked flesh.
She took his hand, inviting him to join her in the spacious bath. He sank down in the hot water first and pulled her onto his lap, thrilling her all over with the delicious feel of his warm slip
pery skin against hers. She felt his prominent erection at her back and knew it was only a matter of time before he would slip inside her as he had already slipped inside her life for the past few days. She shivered. Definitely too good to be true.
With every hour that had passed since she arrived on St. Thomas, she wanted him more. And she wondered even more how she was going to let him go when the wedding was over and she went home to Boston. Her usual sensible self should be scolding her for letting this relative stranger into her life, her bedroom, and even her heart.
But he was no stranger. She had seen firsthand the respect and affection people on these islands had for him. He had come to East Pointe to volunteer for backbreaking labor for the sole purpose of helping her. How could she not trust someone who was so selfless? And so incredibly sexy? Why deny what she was feeling?
Whitney leaned her head on Chris’ shoulder and let the warm water relax her. Chris kissed the back of her neck and her shoulders, his hands wandering freely over her. She closed her eyes, wanting to drink in the feeling. Wanting him to touch her. Everywhere. Why had she never shared a soapy tub with a man before? It was incredible.
She turned around in the hot water and wrapped her legs around him. She massaged his shoulders for several minutes, pausing only when a blister she hadn’t even noticed on her thumb stung viciously when the soap got in it. Chris noticed right away and took her hand, gently rubbing the palm and fingers with his warm wet sudsy hands. The sensual movement of his fingers on hers sent spikes of desire through her body.
“You’re not used to hauling boards and hammering nails,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll do that, and we’ll find something else for you to do.”
“Like what?” she murmured, kissing his neck and playfully licking off streams of warm water.
“You can be in charge of massages and motivation. Oh, and food. I love food.”
“Maybe I better practice tonight,” she said as she reached under the water, ignoring the stinging of her blister and finding something long and hard to take her mind off it. “I’ll have to discover exactly what motivates you.”
Chris groaned with pleasure and leaned his head back against the side of the tub. “I think you might have put your finger on it already.”
Whitney laughed. Her head spun, her senses reeled, and she was ready to let Chris do anything to her he wanted.
“I think we should move to dry land,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
“Did you have something in mind?”
“Follow me and you’ll find out,” she said.
She stepped slowly out of the tub knowing Chris was watching her every move. She picked up a fluffy towel, forgetting completely the dull ache in her shoulders and the blister on her hand as she dried off in front of him.
Whitney dropped her towel and stood naked before Chris. She did not feel shy at all as his eyes roamed hungrily over her entire body. She picked up a large towel and held it out to him and then watched as he stood up, rivers of water running down his broad chest, across the flat hard muscles of his stomach, and down his thighs.
Whitney summoned the last ounce of her self-control as she felt a physical chain reaction exploding inside of her. “C’mon,” she said, and then she turned and went through the door to the adjoining bedroom.
She stopped when she got to the bed and turned, the back of her thighs brushing against the soft sheets. Chris, still damp from the tub, wasted no time. He picked her up and laid her gently on the bed then moved over top of her.
Whitney was a take-charge kind of woman in her business life, but right now she felt a thrill wash over her as Chris’ muscular shoulders and forearms pinned her to the bed. His mouth took hers and his kiss made her ache for his touch everywhere.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the first moment I saw you,” he said when he finally drew back and took a breath.
Whitney giggled. “When I was stuck in the revolving door?”
“Um-hmm,” he said, kissing her neck and moving slowly downward.
“Right,” she said skeptically.
“Confession time,” he said, looking her in the eye while toying with a lock of her long wet hair. “I actually watched you for a minute before I decided to rescue you. I loved the part where you pulled your sweatshirt over your head.”
“It was hot in there.”
“I could see that,” he said, smiling and returning to his careful kissing of every inch of her exposed and flushed skin. His lips didn’t stop until he had tasted everything she had to give. Their bodies moved together slowly, rhythmically, like the ocean waves washing the beach outside the open windows.
Afterward, he sprawled half beside and half over her and nuzzled her shoulder with his lips. Whitney had no idea how she had gotten to this place in the short four days since she flew into St. Thomas.
And she had no idea how she was ever going to leave.
Chapter Twelve
She didn’t get the chance to serve him breakfast in bed. The sunlight slanting across her face was the first thing Whitney noticed the next morning. The empty bed next to her was the next thing. Chris was gone, and her room felt very large and hollow. She got up and went over to her window overlooking the construction zone. She was afraid he was gone like some fantastic figment of her imagination. She took a deep breath.
But there he was. Already on a ladder with his massive arms stretched over his head.
Whitney watched Chris effortlessly climb up and down the ladder, carrying boards on his shoulder, reaching for the loop on his belt that cradled his hammer, fishing nails out of a pocket. She couldn’t help but wonder, again, what was in it for him? Why was he so interested in helping? She didn’t doubt that he was attracted to her, they both felt the electric sizzle from the first moment they’d met in the airport. And he was apparently alone for the holidays. Still, it was hard to imagine anyone would sign on voluntarily for the amount of work she needed. How did he manage to make it look like he really wanted to do this and was even enjoying it?
Watching him confidently attack the project like a one-man construction company bolstered her spirits. Calling the East family with the wedding progress was something she couldn’t even consider yesterday, but now she really believed she could muster up the sound of optimism and reassurance in her voice Taylor’s parents needed to hear. Not that she was going to explain that her sexy island fling who just happened to be fantastic at building was picking up the slack from that damned Blue Isle Construction Company who had taken the insurance money and done nothing. Not exactly nothing, she reasoned. They came to meet her, dumped off a huge pile of supplies and equipment, and promptly closed for two weeks.
Her work may be getting done and the wedding may turn out to be fantastic, but no way in hell was she letting Blue Isle off the hook. When the wedding was over, she would talk to Taylor’s parents and they would have their lawyers take that miserable island construction company apart piece by fraudulent piece.
****
Chris felt like singing this morning. Not that it covered up the sound of his growling stomach, but it still felt right. Spending time with Whitney was the most fun he’d had on this island since he settled in after the first few indulgent months. Island flings with beautiful tourists had appealed to him for a while, but he quickly realized the limitations of that lifestyle.
He had sworn off picking up tourists for the last few years. Somehow, that all changed when he saw Whitney at the airport. The instant undeniable attraction had not worn off a single bit, even after spending hours and hours with her and having explored every inch of her body with his own.
Rick cautioned him about the dangerous game he was playing, and he was probably right. Chris’ cavalier assurances that he could handle himself and he knew what he was doing weren’t holding much water this morning. Not when he found himself humming as he hammered the graceful arches and trellises of what was going to be a fabulous pavilion when he got done with it.
Being in Whitney
’s bed last night made him think about the future far more than he usually did. She was the kind of woman he’d like to be with. Smart, sexy, fun. She even owned her own business so she’d understand the time and devotion he put into his work. And that’s exactly where two of his major problems lay. Even thinking about it made the slight breeze off the ocean feel like a cold wind over his satiated flesh. Not only did she have every reason to head home to her own life and job when Christmas was over, she also considered his baby, Blue Isle, to be her archenemy.
There was no way this was going to work out. He might finish the work to her satisfaction and somehow manage to save his company from being slammed with insurance fraud charges, but there would be no saving himself from Whitney when she found out who he was. He had seen the fire in her eyes when she thought about how her contractor was letting down her best friend. She would be fierce in a battle, and he wouldn’t come out of it without scars.
Chris squinted up at the crooked board over his head. He’d have to cross that bridge when the time came. For now, he was doing what he had to do, and enjoying the added bonus of Whitney crossing the lawn with a cup of coffee in one hand and plate of something that had to be breakfast in the other. He didn’t deserve her, but he was going to hang onto the next week like it was his last week with her. Because, unless there was a miracle, it was.
****
“I can’t believe it,” Whitney exclaimed late that afternoon.
The pavilion was starting to look like she remembered. It was a secure structure she wasn’t afraid to walk under, and there were no dangling or missing boards. Sure, it needed detail work and a major paint job, but Chris had worked wonders.
“This time tomorrow, that gazebo will be starting to look better,” Chris said. He wrapped one long arm around Whitney’s waist and brushed paint chips and wood slivers out of her hair.
“And then what will we do with ourselves,” she asked playfully.
Chris laughed. “Finish carpentry, priming, painting, and general fussing.”
