“Just in case you get hungry.”
Chris got out of the truck and Whitney slid out
after him. He went to the bed of the truck and started unloading
the construction supplies. Just helping haul a few things back on
the dock with Sammy’s help made her really appreciate how much work
Chris was putting in on this. He had already moved all the windows
and boards three times. His broad shoulders and strong arms didn’t
even look tired, but she wanted to reach out and knead those
muscles with her fingers anyway. He was so…nice. And that wasn’t
all.
At home, Whitney was always the hardest working
person around. The one everyone went to when something had to get
done. Just spending one day with Chris made her realize how nice it
was to be around a man who could literally work circles around her.
A man like that could make her life easier. He wasn’t anything like
her old flame, Logan. She hadn’t even asked him to help with the
simplest of tasks, even to open a jar of olives. Ever. She watched
Chris’ capable hands unloading construction supplies. He could open
a case of olive jars.
The stack of windows and boards on the ground grew
as Whitney tried to help. By the time Sammy came back carrying a
wicker basket covered with a bright colored towel, the supplies
were all unloaded and stacked neatly on the ground near the first
house.
Sammy looked at the pile and then he met Chris’
eyes, a serious expression on his face. “Can’t tell you how much we
appreciate it,” he said.
“Can’t tell you how much I love pie,” Chris said.
“Now, how about a ride back to the docks so I can sail off into the
sunset with this beautiful…pie.” He looked at Whitney as he
finished his sentence. She laughed.
When they got back on the boat and pulled away from
the dock, Whitney said, “That was really nice.”
“St. John is beautiful,” Chris replied.
“Not that. I mean you. You didn’t have to go to his
house and unload all that.”
Chris shrugged, concentrating on backing out of the
dock and turning the heavy boat around.
“And you weren’t coming here anyway,” Whitney
continued.
Chris met her eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll bet you’re going back another day to help him
put in those windows and fix his roof,” she said.
Chris kept one hand on the wheel, but reached out
with the other arm and pulled Whitney tight against him. His arm
wrapped all the way around her, practically crushing her against
his chest. “If I kiss you, will you stop talking?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she said, unbalanced but strangely steady.
“I can’t tell you for sure.”
“Because I need to test the theory?”
“No,” she whispered, “because I can’t think when
you’re touching me.”
“Good,” he said, lowering his head to hers. The
thrum of the boat’s engine under her feet was no match for the buzz
electrifying her body where it met his. Chris’ scent, sun-warmed
skin, was the first sensation. Fingers brushed her cheeks, stroking
outward and tangling in her hair until his hands held her head
firmly.
Not that she would have moved. His lips found hers
at the very moment she was sure she could not wait another second.
Gentle at first, then more insistent, his mouth covered hers.
Leaning into him and slipping her hands under the back of his
T-shirt, she surrendered to the kiss like a diver leaping from the
beam into warm inviting water. Eyes closed, Whitney focused on
every square inch of connection between them. Lips, hands,
bodies.
A loud boat horn shattered the kiss like glass.
Chris pulled back quickly, steadying his hand on the
wheel, his eyes searching her face and free arm encircling her.
“Better pay attention to what I’m doing,” he
said.
Whitney laughed. “I thought you were.”
“I mean the boat,” he said, breathing deeply and
concentrating on the sparkling blue water ahead. “I want us to live
to do that again. On dry land.”
Whitney stood close to Chris as he steered and
Chris got out of the truck and Whitney slid out
after him. He went to the bed of the truck and started unloading
the construction supplies. Just helping haul a few things back on
the dock with Sammy’s help made her really appreciate how much work
Chris was putting in on this. He had already moved all the windows
and boards three times. His broad shoulders and strong arms didn’t
even look tired, but she wanted to reach out and knead those
muscles with her fingers anyway. He was so…nice. And that wasn’t
all.
At home, Whitney was always the hardest working
person around. The one everyone went to when something had to get
done. Just spending one day with Chris made her realize how nice it
was to be around a man who could literally work circles around her.
A man like that could make her life easier. He wasn’t anything like
her old flame, Logan. She hadn’t even asked him to help with the
simplest of tasks, even to open a jar of olives. Ever. She watched
Chris’ capable hands unloading construction supplies. He could open
a case of olive jars.
The stack of windows and boards on the ground grew
as Whitney tried to help. By the time Sammy came back carrying a
wicker basket covered with a bright colored towel, the supplies
were all unloaded and stacked neatly on the ground near the first
house.
Sammy looked at the pile and then he met Chris’
eyes, a serious expression on his face. “Can’t tell you how much we
appreciate it,” he said.
“Can’t tell you how much I love pie,” Chris said.
“Now, how about a ride back to the docks so I can sail off into the
sunset with this beautiful…pie.” He looked at Whitney as he
finished his sentence. She laughed.
When they got back on the boat and pulled away from
the dock, Whitney said, “That was really nice.”
“St. John is beautiful,” Chris replied.
“Not that. I mean you. You didn’t have to go to his
house and unload all that.”
Chris shrugged, concentrating on backing out of the
dock and turning the heavy boat around.
“And you weren’t coming here anyway,” Whitney
continued.
Chris met her eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll bet you’re going back another day to help him
put in those windows and fix his roof,” she said.
Chris kept one hand on the wheel, but reached out
with the other arm and pulled Whitney tight against him. His arm
wrapped all the way around her, practically crushing her against
his chest. “If I kiss you, will you stop talking?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she said, unbalanced but strangely steady.
“I can’t tell you for sure.”
“Because I need to test the theory?”
“No,” she whispered, “because I can’t think when
you’re touching me.”
“Good,” he said, lowering his head to hers. The
thrum of the boat’s engine under her feet was no match for the buzz
electrifying her body where it met his. Chris’ scent, sun-warmed
skin, was the first sensation. Fingers brushed her cheeks, stroking
outward and tangling in her hair until his hands held her head
firmly.
Not that she would have moved. His lips found hers
at the very moment she was sure she could not wait another second.
Gentle at first, then more insistent, his mouth covered hers.
Leaning into him and slipping her hands under the back of his
T-shirt, she surrendered to the kiss like a diver leaping from the
beam into warm inviting water. Eyes closed, Whitney focused on
every square inch of connection between them. Lips, hands,
bodies.
A loud boat horn shattered the kiss like glass.
Chris pulled back quickly, steadying his hand on the
wheel, his eyes searching her face and free arm encircling her.
“Better pay attention to what I’m doing,” he
said.
Whitney laughed. “I thought you were.”
“I mean the boat,” he said, breathing deeply and
concentrating on the sparkling blue water ahead. “I want us to live
to do that again. On dry land.”
Whitney stood close to Chris as he steered and
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