Читать книгу An Island Affair - Monica Richardson - Страница 15

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?”