Will Work For Love Read Free Page A

Isle Construction weren’t even
going to get a storm warning.
    ****
    Whitney drove to town for breakfast even though her
first look at the condition of East Pointe nearly killed her
appetite. One angry phone call to Blue Isle Construction helped her
work up a hunger again like a ten-mile run. She decided she needed
to keep up her strength for the long haul ahead. If that estate was
going to be bellissimo for the wedding, she needed to stay
in fighting shape.
    There weren’t many places open early on a Sunday
morning. The tourists were probably eating at their hotels, the
locals at home or at church. She found a swinging sign painted with Bistro Sol and figured anything promising sun was a good
start to the day.
    “What’ll you have?” The woman behind the counter was
dark haired, with beautiful olive skin and a welcoming smile.
Probably in her mid-twenties like Whitney.
    “Coffee for sure,” Whitney said, scanning the
overhead menu of pastries and breakfast sandwiches. She started to
order efficiently and step to the side, just like at home, but she
was the only one in the small café. No rush necessary. Island time
for the next two weeks.
    Still perusing the menu, she heard the little bell
tinkle on the door and sensed someone standing in line behind
her.
    “Maybe I’ll just get the coffee for now and decide
in a minute what I’ll have,” she said quickly.
    “Please don’t hurry on my account,” a familiar voice
said behind her.
    She turned and looked squarely at the collar of a
blue T-shirt. Didn’t even need to raise her eyes to his face to
know it was the man from the airport. She knew from the tremor
racing over her flesh. He grinned at her like someone had just
given him the combination to the store safe.
    “I am hungry, don’t get me wrong. And the
food is awesome, but I don’t want to rush you,” he said.
    Whitney turned fully around so her back was against
the counter and there were only a few inches between her and Chris.
He could easily read the menu over her head, but that wasn’t what
he was looking at. The scent and the sight of him filled her
senses. All of them. She vividly recalled the blue eyes spicing her
dreams last night.
    “Chris,” she said.
    “Whitney,” he said with a grin and nodded at her.
“Patron saint of revolving doors and red suitcases.”
    She laughed. “I should buy you breakfast to thank
you for your heroism yesterday.”
    “I do that all the time,” he said with a shrug of
one massive shoulder.
    “I don’t doubt it,” she answered playfully, “but how
about breakfast anyway?”
    His grin disappeared and he looked rueful. “I’d love
to, but I’m getting mine to go. I have to work today.”
    “You work too much, Chris,” said the pretty girl
behind the counter.
    Whitney turned back to the girl and the menu,
suddenly feeling very much like an outsider on the island.
    “Why don’t you go ahead of me,” she said to Chris,
“I’ve got all day.”
    Whitney picked up her cup and wandered over to the
small table by the window. Tried to focus on a copy of the local
newspaper while taking a cautious sip of hot coffee. It wouldn’t
have mattered if the headlines declared world peace and an end to
global warming. She couldn’t think about anything but the handsome
man ordering several breakfast sandwiches and at least one
pastry.
    What was he doing? He stepped behind the counter and
climbed up a stepladder. Tired of looking out of the corner of her
eye, Whitney turned to watch him. He changed a light bulb while the
girl behind the counter smiled up at him adoringly. Chris Maxwell
was an overgrown boy scout. And man, did his backside look nice on
that ladder.
    All too quickly, Chris climbed down, picked up his
bag of food and a large to-go cup of coffee and started for the
door. He had to walk right by Whitney’s seat by the front window.
She looked up, heart speeding, when he stopped at her table.
Smiling at her, his large hands clutching his food and