An Island Affair Read online

  “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

  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?”

  Jackson appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a pair of black Levi’s, work boots and no shirt. His bare chest had me mesmerized for a moment. His golden body was moist from the sweat, his abs tight, his chest a mountain of steel and his shoulders broad. Looking at him, I lost my train of thought.

  “It’s me,” he said.

  “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

  “Yeah, you seemed so comfortable back there on the porch...I didn’t want to bother you. I’m still working up here.”

  He walked away, disappearing into one of the rooms.

  I climbed the stairs to see what Jackson was up to. I followed him into my future office. The walls had been painted in hues of red and orange, and the desk that I’d spotted in the storage shed rested in the center of the room. Jackson was sanding the desk.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, although it was obvious what he was up to.

  “I wanted to have this completely sanded by the time you got here in the morning.”

  “And the room...” I looked around at the walls. “...you painted it.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “How did you know what color I wanted? You didn’t even bother to ask me.”

  “I just took a wild guess. You mentioned that you liked bright colors...so I just went with that. If you don’t like it, I can have it repainted.”

  “No, it’ll do,” I said. I didn’t want him to know that I absolutely adored the colors.

  “I’ll have the wood finished on your desk by tomorrow.”

  “What color?”

  “Dark walnut,” he said. “Is that okay?”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I really appreciate you doing this. It means a lot.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “How’s your stomach today?”

  “Huh? Oh, much better. Thank you for the lemon water. It worked very well.”

  “Glad to hear it. You get stomachaches often?”

  “Only when I drink more than I should,” he admitted and then looked as if he hadn’t meant to share so much. “I went out drinking with my guys the other night. Overextended myself. A stupid thing to do when you’re recovering from a stomach ulcer.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty stupid. How long have you had an ulcer?”

  “Since law school. It hasn’t recurred since then, but I’m careful about doing the right things. No spicy foods, no heavy drinking. I usually stay away from the triggers.”

  “Except the other night.” I smiled.

  When he smiled in return his whole face lit up. “Exactly.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” I wanted to touch those muscles. See how firm they were. Instead, I reached my hand out for a shake. “Well, thank you for having the room painted so quickly. And for sanding the desk.”

  He took my hand in his. His hands were rugged, not soft and gentle. I imagined them caressing my body. It had been so long since I’d felt the touch of a man, and I immediately longed for it.

  “Why don’t you stick around for a bit? Help me paint the desk,” he said.

  “I’m not really dressed for painting.”

  “I have an extra old T-shirt in my bag.”

  Before I could answer, he’d already pulled the shirt out of his bag and tossed it to me. “Put that on.”

  I gave him a look that said, There you go acting like my daddy again...trying to tell me what to do. He caught the look.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” he said. He smiled a beautiful wide grin, showing a nice set of white teeth. “I’m asking, not telling. Please can you change into my shirt and help me paint your desk?”

  “Sure.” I smiled a flirty smile and then went into the bathroom across the hall.

  I checked my hair in the mirror, making sure I wasn’t looking out of sorts. I smelled his shirt to see if it
had been worn recently. It smelled of fabric softener. I pulled it over my head. It was a professional basketball T-shirt, black with the player’s name sprawled across the back in bold white letters. I walked back into the room where Jackson had started to sand the desk again.

  “That’s better,” he said, looking up at me.

  “You know, I really shouldn’t wear this shirt.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m really not feeling this guy right now.” I was referring to the player whose shirt I wore. “I read somewhere that he cheated on his woman. He’s not a man of honor.”

  “That may be but he’s a great ballplayer, though,” Jackson said. “And for that reason, you should wear that shirt with pride. Who cares about what he does in his personal life?”

  “I care.”

  “People get too caught up in that stuff.”

  “I used to see him all the time in downtown LA. Sometimes with his girlfriend,” I explained. “I liked him once upon a time. Hard to believe he’s a filthy cheater now.”

  “Whoa! You’re prejudging the man. You don’t know the details or the circumstances surrounding his infidelity. And besides...he ain’t married!”

  “But he’s in a committed relationship. Doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

  “It means everything to some men. But we’re talking about a professional ballplayer.”

  “So because he’s a pro ballplayer, he gets a pass?”

  “I’m not saying that,” he explained as he handed me a sand block.

  I began sanding the opposite side of the desk. “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m simply saying that ballplayers are...I don’t know...expected to cheat. I mean...the pressures of being famous have to be tough. And you have women throwing it at them from every possible angle. What’s a man to do?”

  “Throw it back!” My Bahamian accent was much stronger when I got heated.

  He laughed. A deep, hearty laugh. “Throw it back?” He kept laughing, mocking my accent, and soon I began laughing, too. It was the first good laugh I’d had in some time.

  Jackson and I spent the next several minutes talking about every team in the NBA. He discussed the players and the dynamics of the game while I talked about their personal lives—the types of cars they drove, whom they were dating and how often I’d seen them wandering about LA. By the time we were done, I had changed my opinion about Jackson. I actually liked him. He was not at all what I’d expected.

  “You’re very beautiful. And witty. And bright.” He said it out of the clear blue.

  It was an uneasy moment, when a man actually looked at me square in the eyes and called me beautiful. Men raved about my beauty all the time, but this was different. And never had I been called witty. The only affirmations I’d received from any man in my life had come from my father, so it was definitely an unexpected treat.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You’re not at all what I’d expected,” he said.

  Funny. I’d just thought the same thing about him. “What were you expecting?”

  “I knew you’d be beautiful, but I didn’t expect you to have a sense of humor, or that you’d be...I don’t know...smart.”

  “You didn’t expect me to be smart?”

  “I was expecting this Valley girl with the mirrored shades and the funky attitude. Snooty and clueless. I prejudged you.”

  “Yes, you did, sir. You’ve been watching too much television. Women from California are not all Valley girls. Bright professional women hail from the Golden State, too.” I took a bow.

  “It’s just that you went to Spelman and studied...what?”

  “Economics. With a minor in sociology.”

  “I never would’ve guessed that. Why didn’t you go work for one of those major companies in Atlanta after college?”

  “I had other dreams to pursue,” I admitted, although my admission only made me feel small and as clueless as he described earlier.

  I remembered my graduation and feeling overwhelmed with the thoughts of pursuing a career in economics. I wasn’t sure of myself. Wasn’t sure that I’d survive in a large corporation where the competition was tough, and people stepped on you and threw you under the bus, just so they could advance their own careers. I’d seen my older brother and sister conquer the world, and I’d seen their wounds. Edward had been dragged through the mud on the campaign trail. His marriage to his high school sweetheart had ended in divorce because he’d invested too much time preparing for office and not enough time being a husband and father to his five-year-old daughter.

  And Alyson had built a successful career as a real-estate professional, selling million-dollar homes to rich celebrities all over the Bahamas—in Nassau, Freeport and Eleuthera. But she was unhappy. Alyson had been determined not to follow in the footsteps of our mother, who had sacrificed her teaching career to follow my father to the Bahamas. No, Alyson would never do that. She was bound to pursue her dreams no matter what, and she wouldn’t give them up for any man, nor spend the rest of her life having babies. Alyson wasn’t interested in love or children.

  It was me who wanted children—as many as the grains of sand along the Caribbean Sea—and marriage to a man just like my father. We’d live in a beautiful, simple little house on the Eleuthera Islands, just like my grandparents and my parents did. Free-spirited and outgoing, I didn’t want to be held captive by corporate America, tired and frustrated all the time, never able to enjoy life.

  “What about you?” I asked Jackson. “Why did you drop out of Harvard?”

  “Did I tell you that I dropped out of Harvard?”

  “People talk,” I said.

  “It’s a long, boring story. You wouldn’t be interested in hearing it,” he said.

  “No, I really would like to hear it.”

  I tried standing from the position I was squatting in, but I stumbled and almost fell. Jackson grabbed me, his hands holding on to my waist. My eyes met his as he looked down at me. His six-foot frame towered over me, my chin just about at his chest. He pulled me closer. Close enough that I smelled just a hint of his cologne; it had worn off through the course of the day. My heart beat a little faster, and my hormones stirred. I suddenly wanted his lips against mine. There was no mistaking it was what he wanted, too. Pulling me close was no accident. His nose touched mine as if he were contemplating a kiss. If he didn’t do it soon, I was going to do it for him. And then his lips lightly brushed against mine.

  “Hello!” a voice yelled from downstairs. “Anybody here?”

  “Daddy?” I whispered.

  “Is that your father?” asked Jackson.

  I pulled away from Jackson and walked out of the office. “Daddy, I’m up here!”

  I was nervous for some reason. I felt as if I were an adolescent and my father had caught me with a boy in my room again. Like the time Darren had climbed through my window and spent the night on my bedroom floor wrapped in my grandmother’s quilt. I’d forgotten to awaken him before morning. My parents and his were outraged. It changed the relationship between the two families. My father wanted to shoot him; his parents thought me to be a jezebel. It was odd that my father had been the one to awaken me for school that morning. Alyson was usually the one assigned to awaken Whitney and me for school. It was as though she’d known that Darren was there and had sent my parents in to witness it with their own eyes.

  I went to the top of the stairwell. “Daddy, what are you doing here?”

  “Well, I waited for you at the water taxi and you never showed up. Called your cell phone and you didn’t answer.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Dad. I meant to call.” I searched my back pockets for my phone and then realized I’d left it in the bathroom when I’d changed into Jackson’s shirt.

  “Hello, Mr. Talbot.” Jackson appeared
behind me. I was grateful that he’d thought to cover his shirtless torso. He rushed down the stairs to give my father a proper handshake. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your son Edward. A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.”

  “Jackson, right?” asked my father, who was obviously trying to piece together why his daughter had been upstairs in an unfinished house with a strange man.

  “Yes, sir. Jackson Conner.”

  My father scratched his head, gave a look that I wasn’t quite able to read. “How’s the renovation coming along, Mr. Conner?”

  “Call me Jackson, please. And things are moving well. We haven’t had any bumps in the road just yet.”

  “That’s good to hear,” said my dad. “I see you’ve become acquainted with my lovely daughter.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve created her an office upstairs—a place where she can work while on the property. She found an old desk in the storage shed, and we were busy sanding it...and...”

  “Her office?”

  “Yes, Daddy. My office. I need an office,” I interjected.

  “Of course, you need an office.” My father held his hands up in surrender. “So, would you like a ride home or were you planning to continue...sanding?”

  “I’ll get my things.” I went into the bathroom and grabbed my phone, my laptop and other belongings, then made my way downstairs. I turned to Jackson. “Thank you for painting the room. And for the desk.”

  “No problem,” he said.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Good night, Jasmine,” said Jackson. “Nice meeting you, sir.”

  Daddy bade Jackson a farewell and then grabbed my laptop bag from my shoulder. The two of us made the short journey to the water taxi.

  * * *

  As Daddy maneuvered the pickup down Queen’s Highway, I stared out the window. Thoughts of Jackson filled my head, and I wondered what might have happened had Daddy not shown up so suddenly. I wondered what Jackson’s kiss might’ve tasted like and what his arms might’ve felt like had he had the opportunity to wrap them around me.

  “You okay?” asked Daddy.