The Millionaire's Intriguing Offer

Sunday Morning and Clear Skies

Jonathon leaned over the balcony and surveyed the damage. Fortunately, with the exception of a few trees that had been uprooted, and a scattering of palm fronds and other debris on the beach, the tropical storm didn't appear to have caused much harm. He hoped the rest of the island had fared as well.

Bailey was lying on the bed, her body tangled in the sheets and her usually sophisticated blond hair in disarray. She was sound asleep, and her face looked younger, more innocent. He felt a weird fluttering on the back of his neck as he watched her, and shrugged it off. Hopefully she'd sleep another few hours until he could clean up the debris outside and, more importantly, check his boat for any damage.

The sun was shining brightly and, looking at the clear sky and the smooth surface of the water, you wouldn't realize that the violent storm that had raged for almost two days had ever happened. He'd gotten up last night, restless, and at 3:00 a.m. the rain and gusts of wind had still been beating against the French doors, making them shake slightly. Now, just four hours later, the sea was tranquil and there was no sign of rain.

Jonathon got dressed and walked around outside to survey the house first, and noticed that the generator had switched off. Must mean the main power was back on.

There were two shutters that had come loose on the second floor and were dangling, but other than that the cottage looked fine. He took a deep breath, then headed down the long dock to check on his sailboat

He was relieved to see that all the preparation he had done on Friday, just in case, had paid off. There didn't seem to be any damage to the boat, although he intended to spend some time later today checking everything out before sailing back to Miami. Hopefully, Bailey wouldn't mind staying another day. They could take the boat out for a short shake-down to make sure nothing had been damaged that wasn't readily apparent from his visual examination this morning.

An hour later he was back on the shoreline picking up debris alongside the owners and caretakers for neighboring cottages when he glanced up and saw Bailey coming out the porch door. He grinned as he realized this was the first time she'd worn any of the clothes she brought with her since they arrived on Friday.

She looked stunning in a pair of light blue shorts and a white tank top, although he still preferred the way she looked with one of his t-shirts just skimming her thighs and nothing on underneath. He stood there and watched her as she walked toward him.

"Hey." She called out to him as she got closer. "Why didn't you wake me up to help?" She gestured at the pile of debris he'd already collected.

"I thought you could use the rest."

"You haven't been getting any more sleep that I have." Bailey bent down and picked up some of the smaller palm fronds he hadn't gotten to yet, and he took a moment to admire the way the shorts fit snugly over her behind before resuming his own clean-up efforts.

"I'm almost sorry the storm is over," he said. "It gave me an excuse to keep you in bed most of the day.

She turned and gave him a smile that lit up her face and had something clenching in his gut.

"Who says you need a excuse?" she asked, laughing.

* * *

Oh my. Bailey thought she'd already admired his body from every angle possible, but watching him out here in the sunshine moving branches and gathering large pieces of driftwood and storm debris, muscles rippling under the t-shirt that clung to his back as he began to sweat, gave her a whole other perspective.

She tore her gaze away and got busy clearing debris herself. The sooner they got the job done, the sooner they could get back inside and she could peel that shirt off him. She had a sudden desire to make love with Jack slowly and leisurely, with sunlight streaming through the now open shutters.