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An Island Affair
Monica Richardson
A passion for all seasons… Returning to the beloved Eleuthera Islands of her childhood is the best decision Jasmine Talbot ever made. She's determined to succeed in transforming her family's magnificent Caribbean property into a one-of-a-kind B and B. But she needs Jackson Conner's help. A brilliant visionary, the hunky contractor is proud, egotistical…and impossible to resist.Starting his own business was a huge gamble. And so is Jackson's powerful desire for his alluring new boss. But what kind of future can he offer Jasmine when he has just discovered his entire past is a lie? Will his quest to uncover the truth—and the secret he's keeping—jeopardize Jackson's budding romance with the dazzling Bahamian beauty? Or give him the love that could be his lasting legacy…


A passion for all seasons...
Returning to the beloved Eleuthera Islands of her childhood is the best decision Jasmine Talbot ever made. She’s determined to succeed in transforming her family’s magnificent Caribbean property into a one-of-a-kind B and B. But she needs Jackson Conner’s help. A brilliant visionary, the hunky contractor is proud, egotistical...and impossible to resist.
Starting his own business was a huge gamble. And so is Jackson’s powerful desire for his alluring new boss. But what kind of future can he offer Jasmine when he has just discovered his entire past is a lie? Will his quest to uncover the truth—and the secret he’s keeping—jeopardize Jackson’s budding romance with the dazzling Bahamian beauty? Or give him the love that could be his lasting legacy...
“Let me hear it again,” he said.
I went back to the track and played it again. I started moving my hips in a circular motion, my eyes closed, one hand in the air and an arm around my waist. I got lost in the music. When I opened my eyes, Jackson was watching, studying me. I grabbed his hand and encouraged him to dance with me. He moved a little.
He grabbed my waist with both hands. Much like he had the night of our almost-kiss. His body pressed against mine and we danced to the Caribbean beat. With a quick twirl, my back relaxed against him. His arms wrapped tightly around me from behind and I rested my head against his chest. Still moving. Still swaying. My hormones began to rage, and I couldn’t think of one place I’d rather be than right there. He planted sweet kisses along the back of my neck, and when I turned to face him, he planted those same kisses on my forehead and nose. Soon, his lips found mine, and this time without interruption. His kiss was gentle, and his tongue found its way between my lips and danced with my tongue. I savored the taste of him.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered.
Dear Reader (#ulink_8c9a5074-43cd-57d5-853f-ca3883bcd28c),
It was midbook when I completely fell head over heels in love with Jackson. He’s sexy and a generous lover. He’s truly a man’s man and Jasmine’s hero in every sense of the word. She wants a man like her father, and he fits the bill. He needs a woman who can unleash his inhibitions. And Jasmine is exactly that woman.
I hope you will enjoy Jackson and Jasmine’s story. Writing this book was effortless and such a joy. Because my family is from the Eleuthera Islands, it was like sitting with them and having a great Bahamian meal while researching the beautiful island they call home.
I hope you absolutely fall in love with the Talbot family! I sure did.
Visit my website at monica-richardson.com (http://www.monica-richardson.com) or email me at Monica@Monica-Richardson.com.
Happy reading!
Monica Richardson
An Island Affair
Monica Richardson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
MONICA RICHARDSON writes romance that is based in the Caribbean Islands. Her alter ego, Monica McKayhan, currently has eleven titles in print. Indigo Summer, the first book in her young-adult series, was the launch title for Kimani TRU and snagged the #7 position on the Essence bestseller list. Monica penned her first romance novel, Tropical Fantasy, in 2013.
For my Granny, Rosa A. Heggie
(November 1927–2008)
She was special in so many ways, and the strongest woman I knew. My life is rich because of her.
Acknowledgments
To my husband, the love of my life—
thank you for being my biggest encourager.
To my family and friends—
you are my support system.
To my readers who give me the energy to continue to write, I’m sure you will enjoy the Talbot family and get to know them well. This is for you!
To my family in the Bahamas—
visiting with you and talking to you about my history has made the research and writing of this Talbot series a complete joy.
To my agent, Pamela Harty—
thanks for years of support and encouragement.
I appreciate you.
Contents
Cover (#u08b88610-4e44-5a58-8eca-791b0816c507)
Back Cover Text (#u165f1f57-4616-5636-a3e9-6fd49287c991)
Introduction (#u05683942-843a-5554-8632-90cf27aa8af1)
Dear Reader (#ue6e74152-daec-5018-9ad9-270f7cc9f1a7)
Title Page (#u8edce4f4-1e1d-51f1-8c23-8bc7884a8e03)
About the Author (#ub08bfe27-2713-53bd-b15b-cfeac3ae9131)
Dedication (#ubdb6172b-9b4c-5e9b-a0f4-dd51a2f6e3f8)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_a6adff1d-b832-52a4-a46d-08a0bb591b1a)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_53bd75ac-34a3-5d72-9d81-9451e408f3f4)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_96323a0e-1eb9-5a86-8885-c5ccc9547942)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_fea80cf3-d16a-5b44-9675-22df41d65ac9)
Chapter 5 (#ulink_508c3242-d3bb-5e97-a3ee-3c614a5303d0)
Chapter 6 (#ulink_dded961c-7745-546c-a7eb-5320267d44f6)
Chapter 7 (#ulink_d93a80f6-9b40-5a2d-9336-d71b115c540e)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_2821f3cb-b913-5d87-ab1e-a091e31c25f6)
Jasmine
I took the liberty of undressing him. Inch by inch. One piece of clothing after another starting with his tool belt, which I tossed carelessly into the sand. I loosened the belt on his Levi’s 501 jeans, slid the zipper down and gently caressed him in places that required careful attention. I lifted his shirt and brushed my hands against his torso. His abs were rock-solid, and his chest protruded against the snug red T-shirt that restrained his biceps. He was gorgeous: a copper-colored man with black curls. I wanted his lips to touch mine, his tongue to dance inside my mouth.
He reached for my hand...and I jolted back to reality.
“I’m Jackson Conner.”
I almost missed the introduction. I was too busy fantasizing about him—undressing him in my mind. It seemed unlawful for a man to look like that, to cause things inside of me to react that way.
“Are you Jasmine?” he asked with a bit of agitation in his voice.
“I am...yes.” I smiled and took his outstretched hand.
“So you’re Edward’s little sister,” he teased with a smile that was far more beautiful than the ocean that lapped against the shore next to us.
“I’m Edward’s sister, yes. Not his little sister. As you can clearly see, I’m a grown woman.” I lowered my voice almost to a whisper. “Nothing little about me.”
I expected Jackson to affirm that I had it going on.
“Just a figure of speech,” Jackson muttered.
“Let’s just keep it professional, shall we?” I said. “I wouldn’t want you getting off course or distracted.”
“I’m not easily distracted, and keeping things professional is exactly what I had in mind,” said Jackson. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over the construction plans with you.”
He delivered his remarks in a businesslike manner. And whatever thoughts I had in my mind about ripping his clothes off quickly disappeared. There were no compliments or acknowledgments. He simply laid out the details of his plans for my family legacy and quickly asked if I had any questions. My immediate opinion was that he was cocky and arrogant. And I didn’t particularly care what he thought about me. Not as if I had earlier. In fact, that morning I’d been running behind schedule, not because I was handling other business, but because I’d spent too much time on my appearance. I was glad I’d spent those extra moments. Not because I cared what he thought, but because I now wanted him to see what he couldn’t have.
Things had started off smoothly that morning before I left home. As I’d dressed, my hips had swayed to the sounds of Beres Hammond’s “I Feel Good.” His voice had teased my senses; nostalgia almost brought tears to my eyes. It was great to be home. I missed the Caribbean and everything about it. The music, the food and our family home that rested on the shores of the beautiful ocean. I had grown to love California, but nothing could compare to Eleuthera.
Life in the Bahamas was carefree—magical even. Especially now that the Grove would soon be up and running. The anticipation was like expecting a newborn baby. Not that I would know anything about that. I hadn’t yet had the privilege of birthing anybody’s child. I didn’t even have a man in my life—which was an integral part of having a baby. Though I’d been with my share of guys, I’d only fallen in love with one—Darren, my high school sweetheart.
Darren had always been that guy—the one I’d dreamed of marrying. However, after a surprise visit to Darren’s college campus, I quickly discovered that another young woman had become the apple of his eye instead.
As I listened to Jackson, I smoothed down my skirt—the one that hugged my hips so nicely: hips and glutes that I’d worked so hard for the past several months with a personal trainer that I could barely afford. Living in California, I’d felt an enormous amount of pressure to look good and become successful. In less than a year, I’d drained my entire savings trying to achieve both. It was difficult finding work as an actress in a city where everyone was a Hollywood hopeful, and beautiful women were as common as the grains of sand on the beach. Even with confidence and my spicy Bahamian accent, California had proved too challenging and extremely lonely.
I adjusted my long, curly hair, pulling it off the silky, sheer blouse, and caught a whiff of my cologne, again glad I’d taken the time to look my best. First impressions were important. And if I wanted to be taken seriously by our family’s contractor and business partner, I had to look the part. No half stepping.
Prior to today’s meeting I’d only seen pictures of Jackson Conner. The pictures had been dead-on. The man was definitely a looker. And now as I got a good look at those eyes in person, I was sure they were a color I’d never seen before. Of course I’d seen gorgeous men—LA was full of them—but Jackson was different. He was self-assured and had a commanding presence. He was manly—the type that would grab your hand tightly and lead you to places that you wouldn’t normally go on your own. He seemed like the type that made your heart beat at a rapid pace by simply entering the room.
“I was thinking that we’d begin renovation on the first property there,” he said as he pointed toward one of the older homes along the beach. “We’ll restore the old hardwoods and the cabinetry. It needs a new roof, and we should bring those old windows up to date.”
“I think a front porch would be nice. In fact, each home at the Grove should have a front porch.”
The Grove was our inheritance—properties that had been passed down from my grandfather Clyde Talbot to my siblings and me. The six of us had collectively decided that the three historical beachfront properties on Harbour Island would be converted into beautiful bed-and-breakfasts. Each would have its own distinct personality, theme and name. The Talbot House would have flair and spunk and boast bright colors. The Clydesdale would have a musical ambience where portraits of jazz and Caribbean music legends would adorn the walls. My grandfather’s baby grand piano would reside in the Grand Room of the Clydesdale. And lastly, Samson Place would be the most tranquil of the three homes. Decorated in tropical Caribbean colors, the beachside home would be the most coveted retreat for lovers. The Grove would be a place where tourists could relax and experience the Eleuthera Islands Bahamas in its truest form.
* * *
Now as I stood in front of this very gorgeous man—a man I’d be working with for God-only-knew-how-long, spending countless hours with—I knew that this would be a much more challenging task than I’d ever anticipated.
“I agree that each property should have a front porch,” said Jackson. “But...”
“And the Clydesdale should have a huge cabana on the back big enough for tables, a fully stocked bar and a dance floor.”
“You have a big imagination, it seems,” Jackson said.
“Yes, I do. And you should, too, considering you’re the engineer of this project.” I walked toward the back of the house, and Jackson just stood there. I urged him to come along. “Follow me, and I’ll show you exactly where I want the cabana to be.”
Jackson followed me, and I wondered if he was enjoying the view of my rear end as we headed to the back of the house. I smiled wickedly at the thought.
“Well,” said Jackson, “I can appreciate your ideas for this project, but I have clear guidelines from my commander in chief, Edward.”
“I would suggest that you abandon all instructions from Edward and follow my lead from here on out. I’m your new commander in chief. I’ve been designated to oversee this project.”
“Really? See, no one told me that.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“I’ll have a word with Edward about that.”
“You should.”
“I fully intend to.”
“Good.”
“Good, then,” he finally said.
I’d thrown him off, but I didn’t care. He needed to know who was in charge.
“See, right here. I think the space here could be expanded. Perhaps we could build a nice deck. Maybe a nice bar over in that corner, a spacious dance floor right here. I think the dance floor should be the main attraction.” I smiled.
“Are you a dancer?” Jackson asked.
“It’s one of my favorite pastimes,” I said. “And you?”
“I have two left feet.”
I wanted to know what his marital status was, but to directly ask him if he was married was rude. He’d think that I was interested in him, and that was the last thing I wanted him to think. So I found the opportunity to ask what I wanted to know.
“Is your wife a good dancer?”
“My wife?”
“Yes. I thought I remembered Edward mentioning that you were married.” I lied. Edward and I hadn’t discussed much about Jackson, except that he’d be handling the construction of the Grove.
“I’m not,” he said, “and have no intentions of ever being married. Women are a bit too high-maintenance for my tastes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I turned and bumped right into Jackson. Our bodies collided, and he grabbed me to break my fall.
“Sorry,” I said as I regained my composure.
“It’s those dark shades.” He smiled. “How do you even see where you’re going?”
“I manage.” I was intrigued by his scent, and that gorgeous smile that he kept hidden behind his cool demeanor was a wonderful surprise again.
“Well, good. Now that I know what your ideas are for the cabana, I will try to implement them into the plans. After I speak with Edward, of course.”
I rolled my eyes. He wasn’t taking me seriously, and I hated it. Jackson’s phone rang, and he answered it before I had a chance to respond to his comment. He rudely began a pervasive conversation with the person on the other end of the phone. I’d been dismissed, and I didn’t like it one bit. Soon, I’d let Jackson Conner know just how much.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_9f1e9b15-380c-584b-b3eb-c7f9395491ef)
Jackson
I knew she’d be beautiful, but also superficial and demand that the world revolve around her. I’d met women like her in the past—the ones who spent too much time fishing for compliments. She wouldn’t get that from me. I was here to do a job, and I had a personal interest in this project—I’d invested a good portion of my savings. Although I wouldn’t be involved in the day-to-day running of the place, the stakes were too high for me to mess around.
The Grove was a promising venture, and when my buddy Edward asked me to invest, I didn’t hesitate. He was one of the few people that I trusted. I knew he was a good man and had solid family roots. Edward and I had attended Harvard together and had become instant friends, both very driven and focused, both pursuing a career in politics. Edward had gone on to achieve his political goals. He’d studied law and eventually landed a job in the Florida governor’s office. He worked on President Obama’s campaign and now was running for mayor of a small city in Florida. Unlike me, he hadn’t given up on his dreams. I envied my old friend, but was proud of his accomplishments. He’d been brave, whereas I’d been a failure. I’d dropped out of law school. Not because my grades were bad (in fact, my grades had been exceptional), or because I couldn’t maintain the curriculum. No, I left Harvard because of a lie.
I’d initially chosen Harvard because it was my father’s alma mater, a place near and dear to his heart. I remember that the day I got accepted was the proudest day of my life—and his. My father, John Conner, had been my role model, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He was a good man, with undeniable character, and taught my brothers and me everything we needed to know about being good men. So it was hard when I discovered that the man who taught me to be honest had been anything but.
It was good that Harvard had been more than just John Conner’s alma mater. It was the place where my important friendships were born. It was why I’d come to work at the Grove in the first place and why I had suddenly found myself entertaining Edward’s spoiled little sister.
“Let’s step inside,” I told Jasmine. “It’ll be easier for me to show you my plans in here.”
I grabbed her small elbow to help her climb the stairs of the old house. We stepped inside and the stench of mildew swept across my nostrils as I looked around at the wood paneling on the walls. That would be the first thing to be removed, I thought—wood paneling wouldn’t work with my new plans for the place. There were cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling, the baseboards were beginning to rot, and the dull floor needed to be revived. I’d already determined that I could salvage the hardwoods and bring them back to life. In fact, I would preserve as much of the original structure as possible. The Talbot homes were three of the oldest homes on the islands, and the history was undeniable. I thought it an honor to take part in such an important project.
I set my laptop on a dusty old wooden table in the center of the room. I logged in and pulled up the virtual plans that I’d prepared for the renovations at the Grove. With Jasmine standing so close, I tried not to notice the fragrance that was tickling my nose. I ignored the roundness of her behind as she bent over the table, and restrained the mischievous thoughts that suddenly popped into my head. I moved away a bit, put some distance between us.
“I think we’ll start here with the Clydesdale.” I took her through a virtual tour of the Clydesdale on my computer, which laid out everything from the cracks in the ceiling to the paint on the walls. “The plumbing needs to be redone and the electrical completely rewired. I’ve got to remove all of the baseboards. They’re all rotten. And that paneling on the walls...got to go!”
“What’s wrong with the paneling?” she asked. “My great-great-grandfather built this house with his bare hands. I think the paneling adds a nice traditional touch.”
“I think this is the twenty-first century and wood paneling played out with eight tracks and platform shoes.”
“I think we should try to maintain as much of the integrity of the place as we can. That’s what my family wants.”
“I didn’t get that vibe from Edward when I spoke with him about your family’s vision for the place. He and I discussed a more contemporary feel.”
She stood straight up, her hand on her hip. It was the first time I really got a good look at her face. Beautiful wasn’t even the word. She was ravishing. With her mirrored sunglasses, she was a bit too California for me, though. But ravishing nonetheless.
“I think I speak for my family and we’re looking for a combination of traditional and contemporary. If we make the homes too twenty-first-century, then we’re no different than the rest of the touristy properties on the island. There’s nothing that sets us apart,” she said, “but if we maintain some of the property’s natural beauty, then we have a niche in the marketplace.”
She made a valid point. Maybe she wasn’t as clueless as I’d expected. I had gotten the impression from her older brother that she was more of the flighty type.
“I think the Clydesdale should be the most vibrant of the three houses. The colors that you’ve chosen for your little virtual tour here...they don’t really work. I’m thinking bright colors...a very upbeat feel...”
My eyes briefly wandered to the center of her chest, to the perfectly shaped mounds that rested beneath the sheer blouse that she wore. Just a quick glance and I instantly felt guilty about sneaking a peek. It was unprofessional, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. She was the type of woman who caused men to stop and take notice of her. I was a structured man—completely focused, but she affected me, caught me off guard. However, I’d never give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
“The cosmetics we can discuss later,” I said. “I’m more concerned with the structure and foundation right now.”
“We should also talk about renovation time frames. How long will the job take you to complete?” she asked.
“Roughly six months. Maybe more, if I run into anything unforeseen.”
“Will you live on the island? Or will you go back to wherever you’re from and send orders to your men?”
“I’m from Key West. It’s where I was born and raised,” I told her. “And as for giving orders to my men...that’s not really how it works. And if you must know, I’m a hands-on type of guy. I will oversee the project from start to finish and in most cases, roll my sleeves up and do much of the work myself. My team and I will stay at a local hotel on Harbour Island.”
Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the number on the screen.
“Great, that’s good to know.” She removed her sunglasses and held her hand out to me. “It was nice meeting you, Johnson. I look forward to working with you.”
I took her small hand in mine. “It’s Jackson.”
“My apologies,” she said and then slipped her glasses back on and headed for the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think my interior decorator is here.”
I watched as she shook hands with the chocolate-colored woman who wore her hair in small braids. As she and Jasmine prattled on about colors and curtains, I pulled my cell phone out, dialed Edward’s number.
“Hey, bro, it’s Jackson.”
“Jackson! What’s going on? How are things going at the Grove?”
“Not too bad, but is your sister going to pop up over here every day?”
“Is she causing problems?”
I wanted to say yes! She had me off course with the tight skirt she wore to a construction site. Would she dress like that every day? I wanted to ask him that.
Instead, I said, “She’s just got some strong ideas about the renovation. You and I talked about specific things like removing the wood paneling in the Clydesdale, but she thinks the paneling adds character or something. She’s already meeting with an interior decorator, and we’re nowhere near that point. She’s talking about building a cabana on the back of the house, with a bar and a dance floor, and...”
“Jazzy’s a little high-strung,” said Edward. “I’ll have a talk with her.”
“Thanks, man. You know I work independently. And you told me I’d have complete control over this project.”
“And you will.”
He seemed sure of it, and I had no reason to think otherwise. Jasmine needed to be checked early on, so we wouldn’t have any problems going forward. The last thing I needed was to have her prancing around in her cute little clothing, barking orders and changing plans that had already been set in stone.
After my chat with Edward, I regained my composure. I hadn’t been off balance over a woman in some time. In fact, I’d sworn off women for a while, just until I got my shit together. The women of the world could thank Denise for that. She ruined it for the rest of them. She’d mistaken my kindness for weakness and tried to lock me into an unhealthy relationship for life. She was a liar and had faked a pregnancy just to keep me entwined in her creepy little web of deception. Luckily I came to my senses—but not before she was too far beneath my skin for me to separate the truth from fiction. She’d played me like a fiddle, and I swore that no other woman would get that chance again.
Women couldn’t be trusted. Not completely. Even the woman who meant the most to me—my mother—had lied to me. And if you couldn’t trust your mother, whom could you trust? I understood her lie, and I’d long forgiven her, but the principle of the matter remained. You want to trust something? Trust your instincts. That’s about as far as trust should go. That was my philosophy. It kept you safe, preserved your manhood. Besides, women came with too much baggage. And I had enough of my own baggage. I found that if I kept life simple, worked hard with little time to play, I could truly be happy alone. So I found satisfaction in my work and my company.
Those summers working for a friend of the family had definitely paid off. Jett Prim had owned one of the oldest construction companies in Florida, and he’d taught me everything I knew. I started working for him when I was fifteen years old—the summer before my freshman year in high school. By the end of the summer, I’d saved enough cash to buy an entire new wardrobe. By the next summer, I had enough to purchase my first car—a 1984 Ford Mustang. Candy-apple red with a spoiler on the back. It was a dream car.
My father respected Jett Prim and appreciated him teaching me the importance of hard work. However, he had not been happy with my talk of starting my own construction company.
“Nothing wrong with working with your hands, son. And construction is a good industry, a nice trade to have,” he’d say, “but Conner men attend college. It broadens your horizons, multiplies your choices in life. That’s what I want for my sons.”
Not only did Conner men attend college, they attended the most selective colleges in the country. A Harvard man, John Conner expected nothing less from us. My oldest brother, Eli, graduated from Cornell and was still living in New York with his new wife and child. Sean had chosen the University of Pennsylvania. My parents thought it was because of Penn’s engineering program, but the truth was some girl he liked had been accepted there, too. And the two youngest of the bunch—my brother and I—decided to follow in my father’s footsteps and attended Harvard. Drew went to Harvard immediately after high school and excelled in their undergraduate program. I completed my undergrad studies at the University of Miami and then was accepted into Harvard Law School.
I loved Cambridge, except for the winters. As a Florida man, I wasn’t used to snow and the brisk cold winters in Massachusetts. I preferred to ski across the ocean, not across snowy mountains. Though I loved the thought of snuggling before a roaring fire in the winter, I preferred the warm climate of my hometown. However, I enjoyed my days at Harvard. It was there that I received a quality education and met lifelong friends. Friends like Jack Wesley, who currently had his own law practice, Mike Chancellor, who was a Supreme Court judge, and Stephen Cole, who worked for a prominent finance firm. Edward Talbot, whom I met the first day I set foot on Harvard’s campus, was one of my best friends, though. We had been roommates and instant friends—two youngsters with hopes and dreams as big as the earth. We thought we were invincible and we were cocky as hell. Definitely forces to be reckoned with.
Edward was disappointed when I’d announced that I was leaving Harvard. He did everything in his power to convince me to stay—claimed that my reasons for leaving were crazy. That people who were less fortunate would kill for opportunities that guys like us were afforded. He called me ungrateful, selfish and a few other choice words. Which was exactly how I expected him to react. True friends didn’t shield you from the truth. They slapped it in your face and that was exactly what he did. Once he discovered that my mind was made up, though, he supported my decision. He hated my decision, but supported it nonetheless. When I became the owner of Prim Construction Company, he sent many clients my way, and now he’d included me in his family’s business—the Grove. And for that, I was truly grateful. I would do everything in my power to make it a success.
I didn’t have a Harvard law degree, but I had a successful business. After working as Jett Prim’s construction manager for a few years, I became the person he trusted to take over the business when he became ill with cancer. He’d never had children, and I was the closest to anyone who resembled a son. He literally placed Prim Construction in my hands. He trusted me, and I swore that I would take care of his baby as if I’d built it myself. So far I’d done just that. I retained his best staff and fired the ones who had made a mockery of this great man for too many years. I did a complete audit of Prim’s books and immediately fired his accountant, who had been stealing his profits for more than twenty-five years. In his stead, I hired my Harvard buddy Stephen Cole to get the company’s finances in order. Prim Construction began to see growth after that, and I made some smart investments. In the past year, I’d realized profits that had far exceeded what Prim had made during the entire life of the company.
The Grove would prove to be a great investment.
Chapter 3 (#ulink_3775fa4c-c3e3-59fc-8b07-6508a492c5e0)
Jasmine
I’d spent the day rambling through old boxes—boxes filled with family history. My behind was numb from sitting on a wooden crate in the center of the room for the better part of the day. I’d already grown attached to this room. It was the room where my grandfather had been born by the hands of a midwife, and it was the room where his mother had nursed him. With the beautiful sunlight beaming through the window, I imagined my great-grandmother sitting in a chair in the corner of the room and rocking her baby to sleep. The room undeniably had the best view in the house. For that reason, I’d already decided to make it my office during the renovation period, a place where I could work on a marketing strategy for the Grove. A place where I could let my hair down, find myself. Even do some journaling. I’d spotted an old desk in the storage closet that could easily be sanded and finished with little effort. My college roommate had a knack for refinishing old furniture, and she’d taught me a few things. I’d never really refinished anything in my life, but I wanted to. Particularly now, with so many artifacts and pieces of furniture that my grandparents had stored in these houses, I wanted to salvage as much history as I could.
I dug into another box, sorting through all of the old black-and-white photographs of my ancestors—generations of people who existed long before my grandfather. His father’s father and beyond.
I smiled at photos of my father and his siblings. I gently eased my finger across the photo I found of my parents. They couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, both young students at Howard University, where they met and fell in love while Mother studied to become a teacher and Daddy studied medicine. After graduating medical school, Daddy landed a residency at a hospital in Key West, over a thousand miles from his new girlfriend, who was offered a teaching position at a prestigious school in Maryland, near her hometown of DC. It appeared that this was the end of their love affair, as neither of them wanted to hinder the other’s career.
Confident that he’d made the most practical decision, Daddy took a train back to Key West, leaving my mother behind. He’d managed to bury himself in his work, yet his heart still longed for her. When she showed up in the emergency room of his hospital, with bags in tow and a swollen belly, he was happier than any man could be. She was carrying my oldest brother, Edward. Daddy’s life changed completely that night.
My parents had such a wonderful love story—the kind you found in romance novels. I hoped to find such a love one day. A man like my father, Paul John Talbot, who would sweep me off my feet. It was no doubt my father had been a great catch. Why else would my mother show up at his hospital like that in the middle of the night? He was a great husband and I knew firsthand that he was a great father.
“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted my daydreaming. Jackson Conner.
“Yes?” I said.
“It’s getting late. It’s just about sunset, and my guys are packing up. We’re about to head out for the day,” said Jackson. “Can I see you to the water taxi?”
“Uh, no.” I stood up and smoothed my skirt and adjusted my blouse. I’d become too relaxed. Had I known I’d be going through old boxes, I would’ve worn a pair of old jeans. “I’ll be wrapping up here soon.”
“Okay, I’ll wait, then...while you gather your things.”
“It’s not necessary,” I said. “You go on. I’ll be fine.”
“I would really like to secure the place before I leave and make sure you’re home safely. This is really not a place to be hanging out. There’s hazardous stuff everywhere.”
“This is my home. This island, I mean. I know it like the back of my hand. I know just about every person—every family here. And I’m not a child. I know better than to mess with hazardous materials.” I placed the photographs back into the box. “But thanks for your concern.”
“Fine,” Jackson said, “stay here, then.”
“I’ll be fine. And I’ll secure the place,” I said.
Jackson turned to walk away without another word.
“Oh, by the way,” I called to him, “there’s an old desk in the storage shed. Can you have one of your guys bring it up here for me? This room will be my office during the renovation.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what? I need a place to work.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You being here during the renovation will just interfere with our work.”
“I won’t interfere with your work. You won’t even know that I’m here,” I told him. “You can just work around me. But I want to be here.”
“I’m not comfortable with that.” From the look on his face, Jackson was becoming unnerved. But I didn’t care. Who was he to tell me where I could or could not be?
“Sorry about your discomfort, but I’ll be here every day from now on. So you probably should get used to seeing my face around here.” I gave him a wicked smile.
“Good night, Miss Talbot.” His face was hardened and his jaws were clenched before walking away.
I was under his skin. I could tell.
“I’ll lock up when I’m done here,” I yelled to him.
He kept walking, never responded. I heard his footsteps on the stairs and then the front door shutting. Not only had I gotten to him, I had to admit Jackson Conner got on my nerves, too. Who did he think he was anyway? And he may have made an investment in the property, but for him to tell me how often I could be on the premises of my family’s inheritance was ludicrous. I’d address that with Edward the next time we spoke.
* * *
I went back to sorting through old photos and remembered when we first heard about the Grove. Our parents had commissioned the six of us back to the islands—our home—for a family meeting. The news of the inheritance took us all by surprise, and everyone expressed strong opinions about what should be done with the properties. My brother Nate immediately suggested that we sell the properties and split the proceeds. He had no intentions of returning to the Bahamas long-term. Atlanta, Georgia, had long become his home and a place where he’d built a wonderful career as an artist. The Bahamas held too many bad memories for him, and even coming home for this family meeting had been a struggle.
I, on the other hand, had great memories of home and immediately thought that the family should convert the old houses into bed-and-breakfasts. I knew that the Bahamas was a beautiful, tourist-driven place, and such a business would generate a nice income for all six of us—an income that I desperately needed in my life at the moment.
“Who has time to run a bed-and-breakfast, let alone three of them?” asked Alyson, my oldest sister, who was the successful real-estate agent in the family. “I certainly don’t. I’m with Nate. I say we revitalize the properties and place them on the market. I can have a solid contract on them in no time.”
“I definitely can’t move to the islands right now. I’m up for reelection!” exclaimed Edward. “But I have a friend who owns his own construction business. He can definitely do the work. I’ll fly over and assist as much as I can, but I can’t move here.”
Finally we agreed that we weren’t going to sell the properties, but develop them. We wanted to honor our father’s wishes—to do something great with the properties, as he’d suggested. But the reality was, the properties would require more time and effort—not to mention resources—than any of us would be able to provide alone.
“I like Jasmine’s idea of developing the properties into bed-and-breakfasts. And I think we should call it the Grove,” said my sister Whitney. “I’d be happy to help run the place when the school year ends.” Whitney had gone to college in Dallas, Texas, and never returned to the Bahamas. Instead, she’d accepted a teaching position at an elementary school there and made her home in a cozy little Dallas suburb.
My youngest brother, Dennison, had been as quiet as a church mouse for most of the conversation. As the baby of the family, he was often forgotten.
“Denny, you haven’t said what you think about all of this,” I said. “What would you like to see happen with the properties?”
“I don’t really care one way or the other,” he said.
“I think if we do this bed-and-breakfast thing, Denny could probably play a major role in running the place,” suggested Alyson, “especially since he’s the only one who lives at home right now.”
“No,” said Denny.
“Why not?” asked Alyson. “You’re not doing anything else! It’s not like you’re going to college.”
Dennison, who had been a few weeks from graduating high school, hadn’t yet identified a school of higher education.
“Of course he’s going to college,” said Nate, the ever-protective brother. “He just hasn’t figured out where. Get off his back!”
“I haven’t applied anywhere because I’m not going to college,” said Denny matter-of-factly.
The entire household fell silent. No one said anything for what seemed like a lifetime. We all waited for hell to break loose.
My mother, who hadn’t said much either, stood with her hands on her hips. “Dennison Talbot, what do you mean you’re not going to college?”
We waited for Denny’s response.
“I’ve enlisted in the Royal Bahamas Defence Force. I’ve already sworn in, and after graduation, I’m due to be deployed to the United States to train with the US Navy Seals.”
“Have you lost all the sense God gave you, child?” My mother’s Bahamian accent suddenly seemed stronger than normal. It usually came and went, considering she wasn’t a native. She turned to my father. “Paul John, did you hear what your son just said?”
“Daddy.” Denny tried to whisper, but failed. “You said you would talk to her.”
“You knew about this, Paul?” she calmly asked my father.
“Beverly, this is not the time for this discussion,” my father said calmly. “Not while we’re discussing the children’s inheritance. One issue at a time.”
“This discussion is not over.” She pointed a finger at Denny and then at my father. “We will revisit it.”
With Denny going away soon, the idea of turning the properties into a successful business had seemed impossible, particularly since we were all scattered about the US. Pulling this off would require a sacrifice that no one was willing to make—except for me. Having had very little success as a model-turned-actress, I was ready to return home.
“I’ll do it,” I volunteered. “I’ll move back home and oversee the construction. And I’ll even write the business and marketing plan.”
“Have you ever written a business plan before, Jasmine?” asked Alyson.
“Yes, at Spelman,” I told her. My classes in college had equipped me with a great deal of business knowledge.
“Have you ever written a real business plan for a real business, I mean?”
“Well, no...”
“Where have you used what you learned at Spelman? In Hollywood?” Alyson continued.
I rolled my eyes at my sister, who’d obviously found humor in the fact that I’d chosen a different career path than the rest of my siblings.
* * *
A few hours later, I placed the photos back into the boxes I’d found them in. It was getting late, and I needed to make my way to the water taxi before nightfall. I did a final walk-through of the house, shut off all the lights, secured the place and then stepped outside.
I was surprised to find Jackson seated on a stoop outside, chattering on his phone.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked him once he’d wrapped up his call.
“I had a few loose ends to tie up.”
“You sure you aren’t stalking me?”
“Of course not. I have better things to do than to stalk you.”
“I told you I’d be fine,” I said.
“I know, but I wanted to make sure anyway.”
“Fine. I’m leaving.”
“Good.”
I smiled as I hopped into the backseat of the cab. Of all those bad qualities I’d pinpointed in Jackson, I could not accuse him of not being a gentleman.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_8ca20508-3c5e-52ae-b318-4b726e46406d)
Jasmine
My father stood at the dock with his graying sideburns, tall, slender frame and round midsection. He wiped sweat from his dark brown face with a handkerchief and grinned a wide grin when he saw me.
“Hello, darling,” his deep voice greeted me.
“Hi, Daddy.” I hugged my father. “You didn’t have to pick me up. I could’ve gotten a taxi.”
I was happy to see my father. It reminded me of the times he’d picked me up from school when I was much younger. He’d stand outside the little pink schoolhouse and wait to walk me home. I’d tell him all about my day, and we’d stop for fresh fruit at the market—papayas, mangoes and pineapples.
“It’s okay. Your mother sent me to the market anyway. I think she wanted me out of the house—sometimes I get on her nerves, if you can believe that.”
“I don’t believe that.” I laughed.
“It’s true.” Daddy laughed heartily. “Besides, I couldn’t wait to find out how things went at the Grove today. I’m so proud of you, and your brothers and sisters for taking this on.” He had a strong Bahamian accent, though he was not born or raised in the Bahamas. He grew up in Key West. But with both parents of Bahamian descent, he was bound to speak just like them.
My siblings and I had Bahamian accents as well, although I tried with all my might to lose mine once I left the islands. And with California being a huge melting pot, my accent was just one of many dialects there.
“I found all sorts of things belonging to Grammy and Granddad. Photos and paintings and stuff. Lots of photos of Granddad and his band.”
My father smiled.
“My father was a multitalented musician. He played the trumpet, traveled throughout the Caribbean with his band. He played the goombay drums, and when he lived in Key West, he was a self-taught pianist. He had his very own baby grand piano and had it shipped over from the States.”
“I saw the baby grand. It’s beautiful! I think it will look nice in the Clydesdale,” I said. “I guess I got my desire for the arts from him.”
“I guess you did.” Daddy held my car door open and I hopped in.
He maneuvered the car on the left side of the road and navigated down Queen’s Highway from the water-taxi dock toward our home on Governor’s Harbour.
“I’m really not feeling Edward’s friend Jackson, the contractor...” I lowered my window a bit to catch a breeze, checked my hair in the side mirror. “He’s so...let me see...” I thought about the words I wanted to use. “...so arrogant and egotistical.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I don’t like him much at all. I don’t know if I can work with him,” I said. “Maybe we can find someone who’s a little more approachable to do the work. Someone friendlier.”
“Is he unapproachable?”
“He’s cold. Self-absorbed.”
Daddy smiled a little. “You mean he didn’t make a fuss over you.”
“What? No. I don’t care about that,” I said. “I just care about the Grove and making sure we’ve hired the best person for the job.”
“He has a very impressive work history and comes highly recommended.”
“Of course he’s highly recommended by Edward—they’re friends!”
“By people he’s done work for in the past.” Daddy pulled his old pickup truck in front of the house, a vehicle he’d owned for as long as I could remember. “From what I can tell, the fellow does excellent work. You should do a little research on him. You’d be surprised at what you’ll find.”
I climbed out of the truck and gave the door a hard push. “Maybe I will.”
* * *
I found Denny in his bedroom, lying flat on his back and tossing a football into the air.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” I peeked inside.
“No.” He was so unconcerned. He’d recently made one of the biggest decisions of his life and seemed so dispassionate about everything else.
“You seem so weird lately, like it doesn’t concern you that you’ll be deployed soon.”
“It’s life, Jazzy. No big deal.”
“No big deal? Really?” I took a seat at the foot of his bed. “Well, if it’s no big deal, why didn’t you tell our parents about it before you did it?”
“Because they make a big fuss about everything! I mean, I’m just not college material. I know my limitations. I know what I want, and this is it. End of story.”
“Aren’t you a little bit afraid?”
“Of course. I mean, weren’t you afraid when you went away to Spelman? And weren’t you afraid when you moved to California?”
“Terrified.”
“Well, I’m not terrified. But I’m a little scared,” he admitted. “But it’s my life. And no one can live it for me.”
“You’re right.” I smiled. “I guess you’re not a little kid anymore. You’re growing up. You obviously trusted Daddy enough to talk to him about this. I think Daddy’s easy to talk to.”
My brother gave me a sideways glance. “He’s easy for you to talk to. You’re his favorite.”
“What?”
“Yeah...you didn’t know?”
“I’m not his favorite. He loves all of his children equally.”
“Well now, that might be true. But he’s not as easy as you think he is. Not with me. When all of you guys left for college, it was bad. I received everything that was meant for all of you. The good and the bad. Mostly the bad,” Denny laughed. “Every time one of you messed up, or made a bad decision, I caught hell. All of the lessons you missed, I got them. So unfair.”
“You’re exaggerating.” I grabbed a pillow and threw it at my little brother.
“Oh yeah, I caught hell for you more than anybody!” Denny laughed a bit. “Jasmine this, Jasmine that. Jasmine broke up with Darren, and now her grades are bad. Jasmine moved clear across the country to California. Who does she know there? Where will she stay? How will she pay her rent? Denny, no, you can’t go out with your friends. We have to figure out what we’re going to do about Jasmine.”
“Shut up!” I laughed.
“I’m serious. You’re responsible for my lack of a decent social life. They sheltered me from your mistakes.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You always were the rebel,” said Denny, “which is why the rest of them don’t think you can handle the Grove. It’s why they give you such a hard time. They’re jealous of you. Wish they could be rebels, too.”
I was laughing hard at this point. “You think so?”
“I know so!” said Denny. “It’s true because I wanted to be like you, too. I admire you, Jazzy. You follow your dreams. Even if things don’t work out for you, at least you give it a try.”
“Oh, Dennison Talbot. You are a sweetheart.” I grabbed my little brother’s face in my hands and kissed his forehead.
“I’m serious. It’s why I joined the Royal Bahamas. I’m making a bold move to do what I want to do.”
“I’m happy that you’re doing what makes you happy, Denny.” I smiled. “When do you ship out?”
“Few weeks.” He walked over to his computer desk, pulled out a blue velvet box and handed it to me.
I opened the box and was astonished to find a beautiful diamond ring inside.
“Why, Dennison Talbot! I don’t know what to say.” I covered my chest with my hand.
“Shut up!” He snatched the ring. “It’s for Sage.”
“Of course it is. You’ve only dated her since the sixth grade.”
“I want you to hold on to it for me. And if I come back—”
I raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. “If you come back?” I asked.
“I mean, when I come back I’m going to ask her to marry me. You’re the only one that I trust with this.” He handed the ring back to me.
“I feel so honored.”
“No, seriously, I don’t want anyone else to know.”
“I won’t tell a soul. I promise.” I gave my little brother the biggest hug. He was growing up right before my eyes. I stuffed the velvet box into the pocket of my skirt and gave Denny a warm smile as I walked toward the door. “I love you, big head.”
“I love you back.”
I left his room and headed down the hall to my own private space. My room hadn’t changed much. With two comfortable canopy beds, two chests of drawers and an old white pine desk in the corner of the room, it was the place I’d shared with my younger sister, Whitney. Things were just as we’d left them when I went away to Spelman, and she went away to college in Texas. Old-school posters of Caribbean artist Elephant Man still adorned my side of the wall, reminding me of my high school party days. My brother Nate and I would sneak off to the neighboring islands without my parents’ knowledge. We’d make up the excuse that we were spending the night with friends. We were clever and kept our sister Whitney as our watchperson.
Whitney had never been one to attend parties—or to sneak away, for that matter. She was the practical, levelheaded one of the Talbot bunch, always the peacemaker, always finding the good in everyone. Perfect attributes for a kindergarten teacher. Through Whitney, my mother was able to live her teaching dreams vicariously. And for that reason, she had clearly become my mother’s favorite. I was probably my mother’s least favorite of the bunch, having disappointed her on more than enough occasions. She was a worrier, and I’d caused her the most angst. She was convinced that I’d thrown away my education when I went traipsing across the country to pursue an acting career.
“Do you know how many people have rushed to Hollywood, looking to become famous?” she’d asked me. “You have a good education, from a good school, and yet you choose to squander it.”
I never changed my course. I still moved to California. However, my mother’s words stuck with me. She probably thought I didn’t listen to her, but the truth was I listened to everything my parents taught me. Kept all their instruction tucked away for safekeeping and pulled things out as I needed it.
I stuck Denny’s velvet box beneath my mattress, sat on my bed and glanced over at Whitney’s side of the room. Her stupid teddy bear Georgie relaxed atop her pillow—his place for most of her life. She couldn’t sleep without him. I missed Whitney. I missed Alyson, too. As young girls, we were all much closer—having shared so many intimate secrets growing up. Alyson was my first best friend, my accomplice on many of my sneaky endeavors. I’d been close with both my sisters.
I removed the embellished sandals from my feet and changed into a pair of exercise pants and a tank top. I turned on my music playlist on my iPhone, rolled my mat onto the hardwood floor and immediately began to stretch my limbs. As I worked out the kinks in my body, thoughts of Jackson Conner entered my head, unannounced. Unwarranted thoughts danced about without permission. Despite his arrogance, the man was so sexy. I smiled at the thought of him wanting to see me to the ferry. That was cute. Actually it was quite gentlemanlike, I thought. It was surprising that a man like him would care at all. He seemed so pompous.
I got into the downward-dog position, stretched my body across my mat. Yoga was a practice that I’d studied and developed as a significant part of my lifestyle. My parents didn’t understand yoga.
“We’re Baptists,” my mother reminded me when I tried to explain what all the stretching and candle-lighting was about, “and we don’t practice any other religions in this house!”
It was a lost cause trying to explain to them that yoga was not a religion. So I simply exercised behind closed doors, and very quietly. But I made a mental note that, as much as I loved my childhood home, I needed my own place very soon.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_607e6a80-f2d0-5c41-8ed5-f8b40517c3e7)
Jackson
I could see the flames in the distance and hear the sirens blare. I felt helpless in the backseat of the taxi, so close to the Grove. Though I wanted the driver to speed up a bit, that would never happen. No one on this island hurried for anything. Relaxed and easygoing, the islanders fished, took long walks along the beach and lounged on hammocks all day. Hurry was not a part of the culture here. My heart pounded and my mind raced as I thought of the Grove. The electrician was scheduled to be at the properties this morning. Had there been a mishap? A short circuit? I prayed.
When I pulled up at the Clydesdale, my men were already on the scene and work had already begun. And I was relieved to know that the fire was about a mile farther down the road at one of the local vacation homes. I exhaled as I stepped out of the backseat of the cab and paid the driver. A quick glance and I spotted her, not that I was looking for her. Although she wore a pair of tight jeans and a faded T-shirt, she was still just as beautiful as the day before. My energy changed. She made me sweat and caused my heart to beat a little faster. I was nervous for no reason at all, and I didn’t like it. No man should feel that way around a woman, unless she’s Beyoncé or Halle Berry. Jasmine Talbot wasn’t a celebrity. She was a wannabe.
She stood in front of the house chatting with my construction manager, Lance. Pointing her finger up at one of the windows, it seemed she was giving him orders and that was completely out of the question. Whatever she wanted done, she needed to address it with me. And I would tell her so, just as soon as I was able to peel my eyes from her and gather my thoughts. I found myself wondering how old she was, as if it mattered. I knew she was Edward’s younger sister and he was my age. I’d recently celebrated my twenty-ninth birthday—two months before his. So she couldn’t have been much younger than that.
“Is there something I can assist you with, Miss Talbot?” I interrupted her little meeting.
“I was just explaining to Lance here that I’ll be working in that room up there—” she pointed upward again “—and he’s agreed that he’ll have someone bring the old desk out of the storage shed for me...and place it in my office.”
“Miss Talbot—”
“Jasmine,” she interrupted. “Call me Jasmine please.”
“Jasmine.” I faked a smile. Chose my words carefully. “You asked me about that desk yesterday...”
“Yes, and I didn’t like your response.”
“If you don’t mind, please do not address my men. If you have an issue or concern, I would appreciate if you would take it up with me.”
“I would’ve done that, Mr. Conner—”
“Jackson,” I corrected her.
“I would’ve done that, Jackson. But you weren’t here.”
“I’m sorry I was a bit late. I was detained. Stomachache. Had to settle my...” Why was I explaining this to her? “I’ll make sure the desk is carried upstairs for you.”
“Thank you, Jackson.” She walked away, headed inside and then turned back to me, catching me staring at her. “Lemon and warm water,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“Best thing for an upset stomach. My mother used to give it to us all the time. Settles it right away.”
“Thank you,” I said, but she was already gone. I glanced over at Lance, who was also staring at Jasmine. “Close your mouth.”
“I think she likes me.” Lance smiled.
I laughed and handed him a set of plans I’d revised. “Here. I’ve revised these. The wood paneling on the wall in the great room stays. And when you get a chance, have a couple of the guys bring that cruddy old desk out of the storage space and take it up to that room. Let’s get the room painted and the floors done right away. Maybe that’ll keep her out of our hair.”
“I don’t mind her being in my hair,” said Lance with a huge smile.
I gave him a sideways look and he wiped the grin from his face.
“I’m on it,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and Jax,” said Lance, “let’s not drink so much tonight.”
“I’m not drinking with you fools at all...ever again,” I said, “and contrary to popular belief, we’re not on this glorious, wonderful, magnificent island for a vacation. We’re here to work! That’s it.”
“What? All work and no play? That’s boring. No wonder you can’t find a woman. You’re a workaholic.”
“I’m not looking for a woman. I’m happy, see?” I faked a smile.
“Right.” He shook his head and walked away.
He was right. I was a workaholic—a lifestyle that I’d developed at a very young age. Ambition didn’t allow for much sleep or playtime. Even in my sleep I dreamed of success. And playtime consisted of an occasional eighteen holes on the golf course with a few of my college buddies. Being a workaholic had everything to do with why I didn’t have a woman in my life. Women required things that I wasn’t prepared or willing to give them—time. And I didn’t have much of it. When I was at home in Key West, after a hard day’s work, I usually settled into my renovated bungalow in Old Town. With a cold bottle of Heineken and takeout from a local eatery, I normally watched SportsCenter or caught a game on ESPN, with my laptop in front of me as I simultaneously reviewed plans and designs. I lounged in my leather easy chair in the corner of the room, where I almost always fell asleep before finally going to bed. It was my routine.
Since being on Eleuthera, I’d been having a hard time finding my rhythm. My vacation rental home was a far cry from my bungalow in the city. Although it was a gorgeous place, with its similar pastel-colored homes as the ones in Key West, Eleuthera was not my home.
Last night, I’d allowed my staff to twist my arm and I’d reluctantly stepped outside of my comfort zone. I ventured to a local bar on Harbour Island and found every one of my employees there. They were loud and boisterous and encouraged me to be the same. My good senses told me to rule against it, but I didn’t listen. I started the night with a cold beer at the opposite end of the bar as them, wanting to alienate myself from the rowdiness. I rarely drank more than a beer or two, but my first few days on the island had proved to be somewhat trying. I’d had to work out a few details with the town planning board and Ministry of Works, make sure the proper permits were in place, bring my new hires up to speed. And then there had been a small fire, caused by improper electrical wiring, and one of my best workers had injured his hand. A trying week at best, and bumping heads with Jasmine Talbot hadn’t helped one bit.
By the end of the night, I had given in to the peer pressure. Taken too many tequila shots, trying to keep up with guys much younger than me. And now I was definitely paying for that decision. The morning sunshine creeping in my window had greeted me with a harsh headache and stomach pains. My ulcer screamed at me. I cursed Lance and the other guys all the way to the bathroom. But as I’d stared at the reflection looking back at me in the mirror, I knew exactly who was to blame.
As I stood in front of the Clydesdale, my phone rang. I looked at my mother’s face on the screen as a Jay-Z tune played—my ringtone. Jay-Z had been one of my favorite contemporary artists since Harvard. His music had gotten me through some of my most challenging days. However, I preferred old-school artists—Sugar Hill, Run DMC, Big Daddy Kane—that my older brothers listened to, and, unlike them, I liked jazz. But because they considered it an old man’s music, I didn’t let on.
I declined the call from my mother. I wasn’t ready to talk yet. When my phone rang again, I answered. One of my suppliers I’d been waiting to speak with for two days was finally getting back to me. As I talked and paced back and forth, Jasmine walked past—headed up the road. Those jeans hugged her in all the right places, and her shirt crept up her back with each step. I forced myself to look away. Why was I even checking her out? I would never date anyone so self-centered. She wasn’t my type at all. Of course, she was attractive, and I only dated attractive women. But she was all over the place, wasting an education and running off to Hollywood to chase a pipe dream of being an actress or a model. And as soon as things didn’t work out, it seemed that she’d rushed back home to the islands to live off her parents again. Why would I be checking out a woman with no stability and misguided ambitions? That wasn’t the type of woman I would have in my life. Not that I was looking for one. A woman like that was sure to be unhappy with my work schedule. Depending on the job, I was often gone for months at a time, and I kept late hours, never leaving a job site until the work was done. My business came first, no matter what, so there was no room in my life for a high-maintenance female.
I made a few more calls, and then I caught myself watching Jasmine again as she moseyed back down the road.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me a disposable cup with a lid.
“What’s this?”
“Warm water and lemon,” she said. “I ran to the little restaurant just down the way.”
“Really? Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Hope you feel better.”
Answering her ringing phone, she started chattering with someone on the other end and took off for the house. I was moderately touched by her act of kindness.
I watched as she walked into the house, couldn’t take my eyes off of her. But then I chastised myself for looking at what I couldn’t have. And didn’t want.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_9f83a6b6-215f-554f-a79d-a9c9bf1da15f)
Jasmine
The old wood on the kitchen floor had been revived. The walls had been sanded but not painted yet. The only appliance was an antique gas stove, which needed to be cleaned. I rolled up my sleeves, put on a pair of rubber gloves and commenced to clean it. I had my work cut out for me, and it took the better part of the morning to get the stove to usable condition.
As a gesture of goodwill, I’d decided to prepare lunch for Jackson’s team. It was impulsive, I knew it, but I wanted to show them how much I appreciated them for tending to all my little requests. Jackson hadn’t been the friendliest person, but his guys had been more than helpful and accommodating since they’d started work on the Grove. They’d moved things around and carried heavy furniture to places where I needed it. I’d chatted with a few of them during their smoke breaks, given advice about women, laughed at their jokes. We’d become great friends in a short time, to Jackson’s dismay. Occasionally he’d walk past while I joined them during their breaks and scowl at us. Every one of them expressed that Jackson was a workhorse and needed to loosen up, but despite that, they had the utmost respect for the man who paid them very well and loved them like family.
“He has a hard exterior, but a big heart,” said Jorge one afternoon while taking a puff on his Marlboro. “Last Christmas when I was having a hard time financially, Mr. Conner bought Christmas gifts for all four of my children. Dirt bikes, Tonka trucks, dolls, a PlayStation...even clothing. He left it all on our back porch on Christmas Eve. Sent me a text message and told me to go look outside. It meant the world to me and my wife. It was a great gesture.”
“When my mother was about to lose her home, Mr. Conner made a few calls to some of his buddies at City Hall and turned everything around for her,” said Diego. “She makes him pulpeta at least once a month.”
“Pulpeta?” I asked.
“Cuban meat loaf,” Diego said matter-of-factly. “Meat loaf is his favorite.”
I was startled to hear all of the admirable things that Jackson had done for his employees, particularly since I hadn’t seen that side of him. The side of Jackson that I’d experienced had been far from admirable.
I finished cleaning the old stove. Then I fired it up to make the men an authentic Caribbean lunch. I prepared conch salad, conch fritters, Bahamian spiced chicken and cassava bread. On the old folding table Jorge had pulled out of the closet for me I placed the platters on a crisp white tablecloth along with two candles and fresh flowers in a vase that I’d found.
I plugged my docking station into the wall and searched for a nice Caribbean playlist. Something upbeat and contemporary. I found a nice mix of Caribbean rhythms and pumped up the volume.
“It’s time!” I yelled.
“Time for what?” Lance removed his hard hat and gave me a wide grin. A tall, light brown, thin man, Lance was a flirt, and I was careful not to give him false hope.
“I prepared lunch for everyone,” I told him.
“Really?”
“Yes, and it’s getting cold. So, let’s go!”
“Jackson ran out for a bit,” Lance explained. “Had to meet with a supplier.”
“It’s okay. We’ll put a plate aside for him.”
“I don’t know if he’ll appreciate us eating and listening to music and stuff on the job...”
“You’re not allowed to eat and listen to music on your lunch break? You do get a lunch break, don’t you?” I asked. “US labor laws require that you get at least thirty minutes. I’m sure Bahamian laws are much looser.”
“We do get a lunch break. It’s just that it’s still early. We don’t usually break until around one.”
“So make an exception today. What’s the big deal?”
Lance looked around as if he was contemplating my question. Then loudly he made the announcement to his crew. The men slowly began to gather in the dining room.
“Miss Talbot made lunch for us...” he began.
“Jasmine,” I corrected him. “I’m just Jasmine.”
“Jasmine made lunch for us. And we’re going to break a little early,” said Lance. “But thirty minutes is it, guys. Then it’s back to work.”
As soon as he made the announcement, the men went for the food like gluttonous beasts, piling up their plates as if they hadn’t eaten in days. As they ate, I began to move my hips to the music, even sang some of the words. Although I’d never been much of a singer, I didn’t let that stop me. I knew how to have fun. Jorge started dancing with me, balancing a plate of food in his hand, and before long, everyone was moving at least one or more parts of his body.
“I like how you move, girl!” said Tristan, the blond young man who’d only recently graduated high school. Laughter filled the room at his remark. “I wish I was a little older.”
“And what would you do if you were older, Tristan?” I teased.
“I’d make you my wife.” He grinned. “You’re beautiful!”
“And you are a sweetheart,” I said. “Come dance with me.”
“Tristan can’t dance,” said Diego. “He has two left feet.”
“Of course he can dance,” I insisted. “There’s no right or wrong, as long as you’re having fun.”
I motioned for Tristan to join me on our makeshift dance floor—a small area just between the kitchen and dining area. He found his way to me and started moving, but he was so focused on his feet that he looked as if he was in pain.
“Don’t look at your feet, honey. Just let your body move with the music. Just be free with it.”
“Like this?” he asked, his hips still stiff.
“Keep trying. You’ll get it.” I closed my eyes and continued to sway.
Suddenly the music stopped and I opened my eyes to see Jackson standing across the room, a frown on his face.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
“Why did you unplug my music?” I ignored his question and asked my own. I was livid.
“Lance, what is this?” Jackson ignored me. Instead he turned to Lance, who looked like a cat who’d swallowed a canary.
“It’s called lunch.” I said it so Lance didn’t have to.
“I was speaking to my construction manager, if you don’t mind.”
“Frankly I do mind,” I said. “The men are entitled to a lunch break, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but on my terms. Not yours.”
“So you decide when grown men eat lunch?” I asked.
“I’m done having this conversation with you,” said Jackson and then he turned to his men. “Finish up and get back to work!”
He gave me a look of dismay and then pulled Lance aside. He was cool and calm, but he appeared to be giving his construction manager a reprimand. I felt sorry for Lance. The men slowly started to move back to their working positions.
“Thanks for lunch, Miss Talbot,” said Diego. “Everything was delicious.”
Tristan kissed my cheek. “You’re a great cook and a great dancer.”
“You’re going to make some man very happy someday, mi querida.” Jorge gave me a wink and a warm smile.
“Thank you, baby.” I pressed my hand against Jorge’s rugged face.
“May I speak with you, Jasmine?” asked Jackson.
He didn’t wait for my response, just stormed past me. I followed the very angry man into the kitchen, and once we were both there, he turned to face me.
“I think we would get along much better if you would allow me to handle my staff. I’m very close to asking you to leave this property.”
“Excuse me?” I frowned. “You don’t have the authority to ask me to leave this property. In case you’ve forgotten, this is my family’s property. Therefore, you work for my family. Thus, you work for me. Not the other way around.”
“For your information, I do have authority here. I have a stake in this property. I’ve invested a considerable amount of my own assets into this project.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Jackson Conner. You might control those men out there, but you sure don’t control me. I can do whatever I please, and there’s nothing you can say or do about it.”
“I’m not trying to control you, but I am trying to run a business and I can’t have my men all over the place. We’re here to work, not dance to Caribbean music and party in the middle of the afternoon. This isn’t Hollywood. This is real life. And you should take it more seriously.”
“Maybe you should take it less seriously,” I said. “How dare you judge me?”
“I’m not judging you. Only speaking the truth,” he said. “Maybe if you’d taken your education more seriously, you’d be working at some high-level company right now and not here cramping my style.”
“You don’t know anything about me, you pompous...arrogant...”
He walked out of the kitchen before I could finish my sentence, and I followed.
“Don’t you dare walk away while I’m still talking!”
“This conversation is over, Miss Talbot.”
“Oh, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it when someone else gives it to you,” I said.
“Stay away from my men, or I’ll have you removed from this property.”
“You just try it.”
He continued to walk out the front door, although I had so much more to say. My blood began to boil, and my heart pounded. My hands were balled into tight fists. I hated him. Wanted to punch him in the face. Wanted to kick him in places where it hurt. Wanted to tackle him to the floor. Wanted to wipe that gorgeous smile and those beautiful eyes from my mind. Wanted to kiss those horribly sexy lips—and I hated myself for even thinking it.
* * *
I spent the remainder of the afternoon cleaning the kitchen and putting food away. Busywork always helped me to calm down. I just wanted to stay out of Jackson’s way and avoid another confrontation with him.
His presence was totally unexpected when he showed up in the kitchen.
“Jasmine.” His voice startled me. “I’m heading out for the day. I just wanted to say good-night and to tell you...um... I wanted to apologize for earlier. I was out of line and said some things that I probably shouldn’t have said. I’m sorry.”
I was shocked by his apology. Speechless. Before he came in, I was ready to give him the you-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about speech and the who-do-you-think-you-are-anyway speech. There were so many things I’d planned to say the next chance I got—most of which were no longer appropriate, because Jackson Conner had called a truce.
I simply said, “Apology accepted.” I was never one to hold grudges. Grudges only kept the grudge-holder in bondage, and I didn’t want that.
“Good night, then, Miss Talbot,” he said and walked away.
I packed up the last of the leftovers from lunch and placed them into my picnic basket. Without a refrigerator, the food wouldn’t survive until the next day, so I decided to take it home to my family. I caught a cab to the water taxi and soon found my way home to Governor’s Harbour. It had been a long, interesting day and I couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow had in store. Couldn’t wait to see if Jackson Conner would surprise me again. Wondered if he’d have a kind word or a nice gesture. It was certainly something to look forward to.
Chapter 7 (#ulink_eff7cd86-b0ac-587a-8ac4-0f3fa9e52385)
Jasmine
The waves of the ocean crashed against the shore. Palm trees swayed in the wind, and a little bird rested on the wooden banister of the porch just a few feet away. I looked up from my computer and took in the beauty and captivating view that the back side of the house had to offer. It was by far one of the best views on the island. And once construction had been completed and the back porch restored, I knew that it would be the most coveted place on the property. It was getting late and the sun was beginning to set—my favorite time of the day. It was the sign of completion—the end of one day in preparation for another.
I had been there all day, working on our marketing plan. Books were spread out all over the place and my computer was resting in my lap, and my pink earbuds were in my ear. As I’d listened to Jah Cure and allowed him to tease my senses with his smooth Caribbean rhythms, I’d lost track of time. Now I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh smell of the ocean, and then rested my head against the beach towel that I’d spread over the back of an old wooden lounger. I was winding down, and my eyes were tired from staring at the screen all day. I figured it was time I headed for the water taxi, before I fell asleep right there.
I packed up my belongings and walked toward the house. The sound of hammering had me frozen for a moment. It was odd because I was sure that Jackson and his men had wrapped things up for the day. A few of the men had long ago poked their heads out back and wished me a good night. The noise ceased, and then I heard something that sounded like sanding.
“Hello!” I yelled. When I got no answer I followed the noise; it was coming from upstairs. I stood at the foot of the stairs and called out again. “Hello. Who’s there?”

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