An Island Affair. Monica Richardson
“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.
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