Will Work For Love by Amie Denman Page A

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.”
    “Will that take a week?”
    “Depends on how many distractions we have,” he said
as he pulled her closer and made it very clear he knew a thing or
two about distractions.
    She responded instantly to him as she