An Island Affair. Monica Richardson

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