breathed in
his masculine scent with just a tinge of sweat and sawdust. His
lips were achingly seductive and she felt an answering urgency deep
inside. This was a man she wanted over and over. Especially after
last night. Sex had never been like that for her. Explosive. Hot.
Definitely not polite and sensible Boston sex.
Whitney clung to Chris and kissed him with all the
fervor she felt. She didn’t know how she was ever going to say
goodbye to him when the work here was done, the wedding was over,
and it was time to fly home where her business manager awaited her
decision about the company’s future.
Chris pulled back and studied her. “Something
wrong?”
Whitney shook her head. “Not with you. This is so
perfect.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I was just thinking that I don’t want to, that
I—”
“That you what?” Chris asked gently, his big hand
cupping her face, his thumb rubbing back and forth gently over her
cheekbone.
“That I don’t know how I’m going to make myself get
on a plane headed to cold gray Boston after all this.”
Chris pulled her close. Her ear pressed against his
chest wall and she could hear his heart beating.
“Right now,” he whispered, “I’m don’t even want
think about what happens when the wedding is over.”
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Chris asked for the
second time, a note of trepidation in his voice.
“Painting? Nope. I’ve done some before and I kind of
like it,” Whitney answered.
She tied a red handkerchief over her hair and wore
an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts. The effect was sexy as hell. A
woman who didn’t mind climbing a ladder and painting a trellis,
also strangely sexy. He pretty much had her body imprinted on his
mind, but he wanted to touch it all over again, just in case he’d
forgotten anything.
“Okay, but just be careful. Don’t lean too far off
the ladder.”
“Gotcha, boss,” she said playfully.
“I’ll be right over here working on the gazebo,” he
said.
“Better get moving on that. As soon as I finish
painting this pavilion, I’m coming over to the gazebo to paint
it.”
“No threat, honey, that will take you all day and
then some to paint,” he said as he swatted her butt as she
climbed.
“Race you,” she said, throwing him a sassy look and
hauling her paint bucket to the top of the ladder.
Chris grinned at her and walked over to the gazebo,
his tape measure already in his hands. It was going to be a long
haul, but by the time the sun set on this day, it would look a
whole lot better. Only seven days until company came to town, and
he knew damn well that this place had better be perfect before the
owners swept in and took it all off Whitney’s hands. No doubt his
fate would be out of his hands, too, when someone got around to
connecting all the dots.
****
“All right, I surrender,” Whitney said. It was past
lunchtime and she’d only painted about one third of the pavilion.
She didn’t believe Chris when he said it would take all day, but
she realized now that he knew exactly what he was talking
about.
“I like the sound of that,” Chris said as he stopped
what he was doing on the gazebo and came over to stand beneath her
ladder. “That must mean it’s time for lunch. Hand me your bucket,”
he said.
Whitney handed down her bucket and brush and started
down the rungs. Chris plucked her off the ladder and swung her
slowly down to the ground then began kneading her aching shoulders.
He looked intently into her face like he was trying to memorize it
and watched her reaction closely as his hands sought the sore
places.
“Is that where it hurts?” he asked.
“Right there,” she groaned and closed her eyes,
barely able to stand. “That feels so good.”
Chris continued to rub her neck and shoulders and
then moved behind her and started slowly down her back. The feeling
was exquisite. Whitney was a sponge soaking up his strength and
touch.
“You could do
his masculine scent with just a tinge of sweat and sawdust. His
lips were achingly seductive and she felt an answering urgency deep
inside. This was a man she wanted over and over. Especially after
last night. Sex had never been like that for her. Explosive. Hot.
Definitely not polite and sensible Boston sex.
Whitney clung to Chris and kissed him with all the
fervor she felt. She didn’t know how she was ever going to say
goodbye to him when the work here was done, the wedding was over,
and it was time to fly home where her business manager awaited her
decision about the company’s future.
Chris pulled back and studied her. “Something
wrong?”
Whitney shook her head. “Not with you. This is so
perfect.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I was just thinking that I don’t want to, that
I—”
“That you what?” Chris asked gently, his big hand
cupping her face, his thumb rubbing back and forth gently over her
cheekbone.
“That I don’t know how I’m going to make myself get
on a plane headed to cold gray Boston after all this.”
Chris pulled her close. Her ear pressed against his
chest wall and she could hear his heart beating.
“Right now,” he whispered, “I’m don’t even want
think about what happens when the wedding is over.”
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Chris asked for the
second time, a note of trepidation in his voice.
“Painting? Nope. I’ve done some before and I kind of
like it,” Whitney answered.
She tied a red handkerchief over her hair and wore
an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts. The effect was sexy as hell. A
woman who didn’t mind climbing a ladder and painting a trellis,
also strangely sexy. He pretty much had her body imprinted on his
mind, but he wanted to touch it all over again, just in case he’d
forgotten anything.
“Okay, but just be careful. Don’t lean too far off
the ladder.”
“Gotcha, boss,” she said playfully.
“I’ll be right over here working on the gazebo,” he
said.
“Better get moving on that. As soon as I finish
painting this pavilion, I’m coming over to the gazebo to paint
it.”
“No threat, honey, that will take you all day and
then some to paint,” he said as he swatted her butt as she
climbed.
“Race you,” she said, throwing him a sassy look and
hauling her paint bucket to the top of the ladder.
Chris grinned at her and walked over to the gazebo,
his tape measure already in his hands. It was going to be a long
haul, but by the time the sun set on this day, it would look a
whole lot better. Only seven days until company came to town, and
he knew damn well that this place had better be perfect before the
owners swept in and took it all off Whitney’s hands. No doubt his
fate would be out of his hands, too, when someone got around to
connecting all the dots.
****
“All right, I surrender,” Whitney said. It was past
lunchtime and she’d only painted about one third of the pavilion.
She didn’t believe Chris when he said it would take all day, but
she realized now that he knew exactly what he was talking
about.
“I like the sound of that,” Chris said as he stopped
what he was doing on the gazebo and came over to stand beneath her
ladder. “That must mean it’s time for lunch. Hand me your bucket,”
he said.
Whitney handed down her bucket and brush and started
down the rungs. Chris plucked her off the ladder and swung her
slowly down to the ground then began kneading her aching shoulders.
He looked intently into her face like he was trying to memorize it
and watched her reaction closely as his hands sought the sore
places.
“Is that where it hurts?” he asked.
“Right there,” she groaned and closed her eyes,
barely able to stand. “That feels so good.”
Chris continued to rub her neck and shoulders and
then moved behind her and started slowly down her back. The feeling
was exquisite. Whitney was a sponge soaking up his strength and
touch.
“You could do
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