Will Work For Love Read Online Free PDF

slowly, his eyes roaming her face.
“Where’s home?”
    “I’m staying with a friend,” she said. Which was
mostly true. Somehow, she didn’t like the feeling of staying all
alone in that huge house right now. But she didn’t know enough
about Chris Maxwell to invite him to keep her company. Although it was tempting.
    “If your…friend doesn’t have plans for you tomorrow,
I happen to have the afternoon off. I can offer you an exceptional
personal sightseeing tour.”
    “I don’t know…” Whitney hesitated. She planned to
meet with the contractors in the morning. What would she have to
do? Follow them around all day? Maybe and maybe not. She let out a
long breath. “Can I call you?”
    “I’ll write down my cell,” Chris said.

Chapter Four
     
     
    Monday morning dawned on what should have been the
beginning of a beautiful day in the tropics. Sunshine, blue skies,
glittering water. Much like the tropical blue eyes that wouldn’t
leave her alone all night. Again. Thoughts of what might have
happened with Chris flirted with her dreams, and she began to truly
doubt the power of the Virgin-esia. That colorful drink made her
forget only for a little while, and now reality stared her in the
face.
    As she swept the light voile curtains aside, her
stomach quivered and fell. This wreck of a yard would never be
ready for a dream wedding. It would take a dedicated work crew with
a serious taskmaster to even come close at all.
    Hanging out with the mysterious Chris Maxwell would
be a whole lot more fun.
    She hardly knew him, but one thing was clear: he was
totally different from Logan. The man who could be polite and
businesslike about everything. Apartment leases, paint colors,
sensible shoes. Even sex. He would have helped her out of the
revolving door disaster by looking up suggestions on his smart
phone. Unlike Chris. Maybe it was a good thing she was here. Some
impulsiveness, heat, and testosterone would do her a lot of
good.
    Maybe she ought to lay off those Virgin-esias.
    Whitney showered, dressed and roamed down to the
kitchen where there were actually supplies today for coffee and
toast from a brief shopping trip yesterday. Not a glamorous
breakfast, but just enough to get her through her butt-kicking
session with the contractor.
    She glanced over an island newspaper she picked up
downtown yesterday and found an article about the clean up from
Hurricane Destiny. The article spanned several pages and included
colorful photographs of damaged hotels, shops, and homes. Whitney
was about to settle in with the article and her second cup of
coffee when the phone on the kitchen counter rang. The caller ID
registered Taylor East’s phone in her Boston apartment.
    “Taylor!” Whitney said with forced enthusiasm.
    “Hey, Whitney. Just calling to check up on you.
Doesn’t your cell phone work there? I tried calling you last night,
but it went straight to voice mail.”
    “I don’t know, I guess I haven’t paid attention.
Sorry I missed your call.”
    “No big deal. I just wanted to make sure the house
is…um…comfortable for you.”
    Whitney laughed. “You know it’s comfortable. It’s
fifty times grander than my apartment in Boston and there’s
actually a place to park the way-too-nice Jeep you rented for
me.”
    Relief flooded Taylor’s voice. “Everything’s going
okay then?”
    “Sure is.”
    Whitney hoped the fake bravado in her voice didn’t
sound as phony to Taylor as it did to her. She tried not to look
out the kitchen window at the palm tree leaning over the garage
roof as she spoke. It would definitely not help her performance
much at all, and telling lies was something she wasn’t particularly
good at anyway. She wondered briefly how Taylor’s parents were
playing their role and keeping it from their daughter.
    “So the storm damage wasn’t as bad as we
thought?”
    “Not too bad. It’s mostly taken care of already. I
just have a few details to work out and this place will be top
notch