Will Work For Love by Amie Denman Page A

flowers or the
dark coolness of the shop, but Chris felt a wave of something like
unmitigated relief wash over him like a dip in a clear pool of
water after wandering in the desert. It all started to make sense
now. All the pieces. Whitney was the maid of honor. Not the
bride.
    “Maybe I ought to offer to help this lady out. I’d
hate to see a wedding ruined.”
    “Chris Maxwell, you have a heart of gold. Everyone
says it, and it’s true.”
    “What did you say her name was?” he asked.
    “Whitney Oliver. Now wait right there while I get my
checkbook and pay you for fixing that roof.”
    Chris didn’t wait for her to write a check; instead
he walked out of the shop like he was in a daze. He climbed into
the driver’s seat of his pickup and thought for a moment. Jesus.
The light had come on. And the game was about to change.

Chapter Ten
     
     
    Rick asked no questions when Chris stopped by his
small house in a quiet nook of the island. He handed Chris the keys
to the brown Flying Island Freight truck and took the keys to the
Blue Isle Construction truck with only a raised eyebrow as a
comment. Neither one of the men owned any other vehicle, and they
had shared the two trucks informally for the past several years. On
a small island like St. Thomas, there was no need for an additional
personal vehicle.
    Chris drove directly to East Pointe and left the
brown truck in the driveway. It was surprisingly ugly in the
elegant driveway of the estate. Normally, he would have grimly
reflected on the decadence of owners like this. Today, he didn’t
care. His mind was on finding Whitney and repairing the hurricane
damage before it swept away his company.
    He rang the doorbell by the kitchen door and waited,
but no one came. Chris took a step back and turned, walking the
curved sidewalk around toward the beach side. As soon as he came
around the corner of the house, he stopped. She was right there for
the taking.
    He stood still for a moment, just looking at her.
She didn’t see him yet. It would only be seconds before she turned
around. She wore shorts that revealed shapely long legs. He could
tell she was barefoot. The thought of being able to touch all that
skin nearly undid his resolve to control himself and play his hand
coolly. Her short-sleeved slim-fitting shirt teased him by barely
skimming over breasts that would fit just right in his hands. The
light breeze coming off the sparkling blue water tossed her brown
hair a little. It played across her shoulders and her back.
    The moment she started to turn and noticed him, he
felt the shock of her glance race down his back. She stood still as
if she were waiting for him to make a move. He already had made a
move by coming over, and there was nothing slowing down his long
strides as he closed the distance between them in seconds. He
crossed the lawn, never taking his eyes off her. He stepped onto
the bright sand and almost stumbled in his heavy construction
boots. She waited for him, not moving a muscle.
    She locked eyes with him as he came up, lips parted.
He felt a connection with her before he even pulled her into his
arms. Undeniable. His lips came slowly to hers, their eyes wide
open and searching each other’s until they were too close. She
closed her eyes first, but her lips said she was wide awake and
welcoming.
    Before all his restraint was completely gone, he
pulled back for a second so he could speak.
    “I want to help you,” he began, “with your
construction problems.”
    Whitney’s eyes clouded and her forehead wrinkled.
She pressed her lips together and looked pained. Chris thought for
a moment that she was going to cry, but her expression quickly
changed. The look of fierceness he had seen in her before took over
her face and her jaw set in what looked like gritty
resignation.
    “There’s no helping anything,” she said. “My
contractors closed up shop for the holidays.” She bit her lip and
looked away from him out at the blue sea that deepened in