An Island Affair Page 2

  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 expe
cted 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

  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 w
here 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.”