Chapter Fourteen

 

 

Two days later, Whitney walked out on the lawn in the mid-afternoon sunshine and marveled at what she saw. Things were definitely looking up. All traces of wreckage from Hurricane Destiny were gone now, and the yard simply looked like there was a nice home improvement project going on.

She leaned against the finished frame of the wedding pavilion. It only lacked a few details before it would be ready to host her best friend’s wedding. In only five days.

All thanks to Chris Maxwell. They had less than three days left before the East family and other relatives started arriving.

Only two full days. Two full days of being blissfully alone with Chris and working with him on the construction project and then sharing her bed with him. Or the lawn. Or the beach. Wherever they happened to be. Whitney giggled.

It was so freeing, being here with Chris. No one around, no one telling her to be sensible. She completely avoided thinking about her business back home. Kelly could handle it. Aside from her conversation with Chris about the possible expansion of the business, she’d managed to put it completely out of her mind.

Whitney had been listening only to her heart for days now, and she knew she was getting good advice. One look at Chris as he laid down the board and the tools and looked meaningfully at her was all the evidence she needed that her heart had already given itself away. She was along for the ride.

Chris closed the few yards of distance between them with three long strides. He paused a foot away, waiting for a sign from her. This was his way. He made his desires clear, and considering he was a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, he could take anything he wanted. But he didn’t, she knew he would wait for the tiniest sign from her. And then wouldn’t hold back a thing.

Whitney didn’t prolong the wait. She stepped into his arms and her lips found his, total surrender in every curve of her body.

“I want to take you,” he whispered when he finally drew back an inch from searching every corner of her mouth.

She nodded her assent and parted her lips for him again.

“Out on my boat,” he finished, already tugging her toward his truck.

“Wait,” she said, laughing at his hurry. “Do I need anything? I should grab my purse.”

“If you want, but I’ve arranged for everything. Dinner’s waiting for us on the boat.”

“When did you do that?” she asked. “I thought you were supposed to be working out here.”

“It just took a call to a friend,” he said.

Whitney laughed. “Then, let’s go.”

“We have about two hours of daylight,” Chris said after they were in the truck. “I want to give you a tour of the island from the water.”

Chris drove to a small marina with only a few boats bumping gently against wooden docks. The tires crunched on the gravel. It seemed strangely loud in the peaceful marina. This was obviously a place where the locals kept their boats, no tourist trappings in sight.

They both got out of the brown truck. There were several boats tied up, and Whitney waited while Chris led the way to his and began to untie its ropes.

“Hope you don’t mind chips and sandwiches for dinner,” he said.

“It’s a classic,” Whitney said. “Tell me it’s the famous chicken that your friend’s sister makes.”

“Mavis,” he said, nodding, “it’s been a few days since I’ve had it.” He grinned at her. “Guess I’ve been filling up on something else.”

Whitney watched Chris untie his boat. Different from his delivery boat, this boat was clearly in the process of being refurbished, but the craft’s true beauty was obvious in the gleaming wood parts already done. Shining chrome and new vinyl seats invited her on board.

****

Chris watched her as he readied his boat, and he couldn’t believe his luck. These past few days were bliss. Whitney was a match for him in every sense of the word. She worked side by side with him on the pavilion and the gazebo, measuring, sawing, hammering, painting. And when they put down the tools and the clothes came off, there was no describing the incredible physical hunger and satisfaction.

He stepped on and started the engine, delighting in the low rumbling sound. “Unhook that last one and hop on,” he said over the engine sound.

“Gotcha, captain,” she said, tossing the rope in the boat and stepping down carefully onto the vinyl seat in the back.

Chris watched her and realized with a sudden boyish longing that he really wanted her to love his boat. He looked for a reaction from her, some sign of approval. Why did it matter so much to him that she liked the Sherwood? Maybe because it was an important part of him. He had been meeting her on neutral territory at East Pointe, she didn’t know the real him at all. Did it matter? After all, their fates were on a collision course and she would soon be far away anyway.

Right now, watching her dig a pair of sunglasses from her purse and then turn back to the late afternoon sun glinting sideways across the small waves, he couldn’t help but think she looked happy to be right there.

As if on cue, she turned to him and said, “I love your boat.”

Chris’ heart skipped.

“Thanks,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the engine. “It’s a project I’ve been working on for about a year. Needs some restoration,” he waved his hand at the weathered wood floor and sides toward the back of the boat, “but I’m working on it little by little.”

“Looks like a classic,” she said.

Chris grinned. “Not quite old enough to be a classic. It’s the same age I am.”

“And that is?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“I guess that makes you a pair,” Whitney said. “It also makes me the youngest thing on this boat.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Twenty-six,” Whitney said. “Why Sherwood?”

“When I was a kid, my favorite story was Robin Hood.”

“Sherwood Forest.”

“Yep. Seems like a good name for a wood boat.”

“And do you identify with Robin Hood or the Sheriff of Nottingham?” Whitney asked quizzically.

“I’m definitely a Robin Hood type,” he said. If only she knew how much, he thought.

****

Whitney stood next to Chris for a while as he piloted the boat out of the small harbor and then began tracing a line around the island just far enough away from any swimmers but close enough so she could see the homes and beaches easily from a different perspective.

Chris stood up and rested one hand on the wheel while wrapping the other arm around her waist. He kissed her cheek, laughing as a long piece of brown hair whipped across his eyes and made him swerve the boat. Whitney lost her balance temporarily and he tightened his grip on her.

“Beautiful,” he said.

“It is,” she agreed.

“I mean you.”

Whitney felt a hot flash of hunger race over her when he touched his tongue to hers. She felt his hand move over her breast, teasing her and promising more.

“Are you watching where we’re going?”

“Who cares where we’re going?” he answered huskily as he leaned in to claim her lips for a moment before withdrawing with a groan. “But, I guess I could throw out the anchor.”

“Somewhere where we can be alone,” she said.

Chris steered the Sherwood into a small cove that looked deserted. He cut the engine and threw the anchor overboard. The late afternoon sun was still warm. Whitney sat on the vinyl bench seat spanning the back of the boat and watched Chris secure the anchor. They were totally alone in the fading light on a softly rocking boat. The blue water was probably warm enough for a swim, but that wasn’t what Whitney wanted to dive into.

“I haven’t shown you all of the boat,” Chris said.

“What else is there?”

“Cuddy cabin. In case you ever want to sleep on board.”

“Show me,” Whitney said.

Chris went through a small door next to the captain’s chair. Whitney followed him and found a small bedroom with a low bed that took up almost the entire space. Small windows ringed the top of the cabin and Chris opened a hatch that led up to the top deck. Whitney realized that if she stood on the bed, she would be able to stick her head out the hatch and look around. Not what she planned to do on the bed.

She barely had time to notice any other details because Chris’ nearness was all she could think about. She turned into his arms and reached up to pull his head down to hers. He was already leaning down because he was too tall to stand in the cabin, their lips found each other’s, hungrily taking what they wanted.

Their mouths and tongues intertwined and their hands roved over each other, feeding the fire of their need. Whitney ran her hands under Chris’ shirt and her fingers played over his warm muscular back. When he did the same thing to her, it was like a catalyst starting a chemical reaction. She didn’t know if she pulled off her shirt or if he did, but they were both shirtless a moment later, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. In seconds, they were totally naked and Whitney felt the cool fabric of the bed against her back. More importantly, she felt hot skin against her front.

Had she stopped to notice, she would have felt the boat rocking with the passion of their contact. His lips moved slowly down the front of her body. Whitney forced herself to breathe. She knew where those kisses were going. He took her breast in his teeth while he rolled her other nipple between his fingers. She closed her eyes. She was torn between wanting the sensation to go on all night and begging him to move farther and faster down her body.

“Say the word,” he whispered huskily.

“Yes,” she said.

He looked like he wouldn’t be able to take much more. He knelt between her thighs and leaned over her.

“I’ve been dying to do this all day,” he said.

****

A little while later, they both awoke from a brief, deep nap.

“Again,” he said raggedly. “I could make love to you a thousand times.”

Whitney giggled. “We’d get hungry,” she said.

“I brought food. It might last us a while if we ration it.”

Whitney looked up through the open hatch above her. “It’s starting to get dark,” she said.

“I can feel my way in the dark,” he said, brushing his fingers over her breast to prove his point.

“Other boats won’t run into us?” she asked.

Chris stopped toying with her body and leaned on one elbow. “Good point,” he said. “I’ll turn on the running lights while I get the food basket.”

He stepped into a pair of shorts and disappeared into the darkness. Whitney slipped his discarded T-shirt over her head before following him up on deck.

“Let’s eat out here,” she suggested.

Chris flipped a switch on the control panel and red and green lights appeared down the sides of the boat. He sat down next to her on the vinyl seat and put the picnic basket between them. Whitney opened the basket and pulled out sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil, a bag of potato chips, and two beers.

“Hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I should make you give me back my shirt,” he said.

“Are you cold?”

“Nope. It’s just a shame to cover up such a beautiful body.”

“Maybe I’ll let you earn it back later. But I’ll warn you, you’ll have to take it off me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

They ate their sandwiches and chips as the sun slowly sank into the water and disappeared. It was almost totally dark except for the port and starboard running lights on the small boat. Whitney didn’t need light to know that Chris’ eyes never left her face, except to trail down her body on occasion. She put her feet in his lap as he opened her beer and handed it to her. She drank the cold beer, luxuriating in the warm breeze that softly whispered in the wake of the departed sun.

Chris finished his beer and began to rub her feet, kneading with his strong hands until she would have done anything for him or let him do anything to her. She closed her eyes and let the sensual waves of delight run up her legs and across her body until she wanted him just as much as she had almost an hour ago.

She opened her eyes and realized he was watching her face. “Have I earned back that shirt yet?” he asked.

“Take it off me,” she said.

His hands slid from her feet and all the way up her body, working a little magic as they went. The shirt was quickly thrown aside and forgotten as the Sherwood rocked vigorously then gently on waves of desire and satisfaction.