Formula for Passion. Yahrah St. John
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It had been a while since he’d been hands-on. “I’m not above manual labor. How else do you think I started Sea Breeze Resorts? I had to get my hands dirty.”
“I know, but you don’t like to talk about your past much.” Not many people knew his true identity. That Jasper Jackson was the son of millionaire Andrew Jackson. He’d always kept a low profile, staying out of the public eye to ensure no one made the connection. He never did interviews and was considered somewhat of a recluse. Jasper had confided in Mark, his right-hand man, years ago, but he’d sworn him to secrecy. So Mark had never told another soul.
“That’s because there’s not much to speak of.”
Mark regarded him questioningly. “I know there’s more to the story, but I’m going to leave you be. I have a conference call to get to. Let me know how your investigation goes and if you need my help.”
“Will do,” Jasper said as Mark left his office. When he was gone, Jasper rose from his chair and gazed out the window.
Mark was right that he didn’t like talking about his past. Jasper had made a point of distancing himself from his immoral, ruthless father and never looked back. Andrew Jackson was a calculating bastard who cared more about his money than his family. When he’d met Jasper’s mother, Abigail, she was a country girl from Marietta, Georgia. She had no idea about the likes of a slick, city boy like Andrew. One night, she made the fateful mistake of meeting Andrew after he’d learned that his true love, Elizabeth, was marrying Byron Adams. He’d seduced Abigail that night as a consolation prize. Unfortunately for Andrew, his mother had ended up pregnant.
Jasper doubted he would have married his mother back then if she hadn’t been carrying a son, an heir to the Jackson family fortune. He married Abigail to ensure that his son was legitimate, but he didn’t love her and his mother knew it. She hated every minute of life at the Jackson Manor. Initially, she’d tried to be a good wife in the hopes that Andrew would fall in love with her, but that had never happened. She’d even tried to have more children, but two miscarriages later, the doctor had told her to stop trying. That’s when she knew her marriage was over and went running back to her family farm. She’d tried to take Jasper with her, but Andrew had steadfastly refused. “My son will stay with me,” he’d insisted, vowing to fight her in court if she dared try to keep him away from his son.
And so Jasper had stayed in that cold mausoleum of a house at seven years of age, missing his mother, whom he was only able to see on the odd day Andrew was in a good mood and allowed a visit. Andrew had retained full custody with minimal visitation rights to his mother because he’d bought the bank that held the mortgage to his grandfather’s farm, which was in debt at the time. He’d threatened to foreclose on the farm if Abigail didn’t give Andrew full custody. So she didn’t fight for custody, and in return, Andrew paid off the mortgage on Jasper’s grandfather’s farm. But as soon as Jasper had turned fifteen, he’d petitioned the court to become an emancipated minor.
Andrew had been livid and had intended to fight Jasper every way until Jasper indicated he knew a lot more about the company’s business practices than Andrew wanted the world to know. He’d blackmailed his own father, but it had freed him to move in with his mother at the farm. She was overjoyed, since she always blamed herself that she hadn’t been able to keep him. Jasper had understood. Andrew had all the Jackson money behind him.
Jasper had loved living on the Cartwright farm with his mother, grandfather and uncle Duke and his family. His grandfather had shown him everything about farming while his uncle Duke had taught him construction from the ground up. After college, when Jasper was ready to strike out on his own, he’d changed his name. He wanted no relation to Andrew. He’d received a small business loan, and the rest was history.
For thirty-three years old, he’d accomplished a lot. He already had a small chain of boutique hotels, with one in Florida and now his second in the Dominican Republic. He was proud of his accomplishments and that he’d done it all without a dime from Andrew. He’d never been able to call the man his father because he’d despised him for keeping his mother from him. He hadn’t spoken a word to him since he’d walked out at fifteen.
Jasper heard Andrew had eventually remarried—a woman named Blythe who had a daughter named Monica. Rumor had it that his stepdaughter was a chip off the old block and had Andrew’s killer instinct. More power to her, because I want no part of Andrew Jackson’s legacy.
Jasper was happy when his cell phone rang, knocking him out of his reverie. He didn’t like strolling down memory lane. It always left a bad taste in his mouth. He smiled when he heard the voice on the other end. It was Courtney.
“Hello, gorgeous. Have you given any more thought to my proposition?”
“I have.”
“And? Don’t leave me in suspense.” Please say yes, please say yes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun, talking and dancing and making love. He was clearly working too hard, and Courtney Adams was just the medicine he needed to cure him of being a workaholic.
“I say yes,” Courtney replied. “What are you doing this evening?”
“Spending time with you.” He was excited about another night in the seductive temptress’s arms.
“Should I come to you this time?” Courtney asked.
“Oh, no,” Jasper replied, a little too quickly for his liking. “I can come to the resort.”
“Are you sure? This pampered princess doesn’t have a problem slumming it,” she joked, using the nickname he’d given her.
“It’s no problem. I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from your creature comforts.” He was one to talk, considering he was in a lavish custom-designed office. Yet he wasn’t ready to reveal himself to Courtney just yet. He was finally having some long-overdue and much-needed fun. There was no reason that Courtney should find out he was related to Andrew, especially since they’d both agreed to use first names only. Plus, he’d had no connection with the man in nearly twenty years.
“All right, I’ll meet you at sunset, Room 4410,” Courtney added. “And be ready to show me Punta Cana’s nightlife.”
“I’ll see you then.” Jasper hung up. He was sure Courtney was used to dating rich playboys all the time and was probably bored to tears of the same ol’ same ol’. It was probably a refreshing surprise to have some fun with a hardworking chap like him. He told himself this charade was all for her benefit, but it was partly for him too. He’d been engrossed in work for far too long and needed to start enjoying life while he was still in his prime. Courtney Adams was just the outlet.
Yes, he knew who she was, heiress and spokesmodel for Adams Cosmetics. Yet she knew nothing about him and for now he was fine with keeping up the pretense. After they’d had their fun, Courtney would tire of him and be back on a plane to the U.S.
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