Yahrah John - Formula for Passion

Jasper had acted as if he were a man down on his luck. The superintendent had taken one look at his truck and his attire of ripped jeans and T-shirt and hired him on the spot. It had helped that his foreman had just quit, and he was in need of help. But why would the foreman have quit such an illustrious project? It didn’t make sense, and Jasper suspected his gut was right on the money that something was wrong on-site. The superintendent had requested a résumé, which Jasper didn’t have, but he’d given him several references, all of whom Jasper phoned in advance to give a heads-up of his plan.

The superintendent had easily fallen for his act. Now Jasper would have the opportunity to finally see what was going on.

* * *

When Courtney arrived in Punta Cana on Sunday afternoon after a three-and-a-half-hour flight, she was amazed at just how beautiful the Dominican Republic truly was. Flying over the Atlantic Ocean, she’d gotten a clear view of the island thanks to the cloudless blue sky. She saw sparkling cobalt waters, magnificent palm trees and sandy white beaches. It was Mother Nature at her best.

A hired car greeted her at the airport and whisked her to Sea Breeze Resorts. The hotel was tucked away from the other resorts and required a forty-five-minute drive to get there, but it was worth the wait. Sea Breeze Resorts had its own private beach, plush landscaping and the greenest grass she’d ever seen. Courtney was sure the golf course she’d passed on her way to the main building was a top-ranked course. Golf wasn’t her favorite sport, but it was a necessary evil and had gotten her in front of movers and shakers she wouldn’t otherwise have met.

The car stopped in front of a whitewashed stucco building, and a bellhop immediately opened the passenger door and helped her out of the vehicle. “Welcome to Sea Breeze Resorts.”

“Thank you.” Courtney smiled, accepting his hand. She was impressed at the prompt service. Even more so when a man whom she assumed was the hotel manager, dressed in a formal suit, greeted her by name as she walked in the lobby.

“Welcome, Ms. Adams, to Sea Breeze Resorts. My name is Miguel,” the older, distinguished gentleman said. “It’s a pleasure to have a celebrity of your caliber staying at the resort.”

He led her to the check-in desk that was situated in the open-air lobby, where a wood-paneled walkway surrounded two small pools of water lilies and sea turtles. The hotel manager took care of checking her in himself.

“Celebrity? I wouldn’t say that.” From the lobby, she could see the property’s spectacular ocean view and elegant accommodations. The focal point was the seventeenth-

century hand-carved wooden archway that encased the entrance and the Dominican art sculptures that adorned the windows.

“But you and your family are featured in this month’s Essence magazine, are you not?”

Courtney nodded. “Yes, we are.” She’d forgotten that Ethan had arranged for the Adams and Graham family to be spotlighted in the magazine.

“Then, you’re a celebrity,” the hotel manager said. “My name is Miguel and I will be happy to assist you during your stay at Sea Breeze Resorts. We’ve arranged an excellent suite for you with a majestic view of the ocean from your terrace. You’ll love it.”

“Thank you so much,” Courtney replied. Typically, she was in more cosmopolitan places like New York and Paris. She rarely got to go someplace warm, let alone frolic on the beach. And she intended to do a lot of frolicking on her stay. She’d promised Kayla she would get the wanderlust out of her system, and she intended to do just that.

With all the wedding planning for Gabby, who was inept at fashion, Courtney had been on a self-imposed male hiatus. It was time she had a little fun.

“Allow me to show you to your room and once you’ve had time to freshen up, I can give you a tour of our fabulous resort.”

“That sounds great.”

An hour later Courtney had showered in her oceanfront suite. She was duly impressed with the seven-thousand-

acre resort and could see why Shane and Gabby had recommended it for the shoot and her stay; it was nothing short of phenomenal. The resort was upscale and infused with modern sophistication and Asian twists in its furnishings and architecture. It was as if the owners had thought of every possible amenity from the infinity-edge pool, the fitness center, the tennis courts to the spa. The manager had indicated there was horseback riding, Jet-Skiing and windsurfing too. It was going to be a great trip, complete with a photo shoot and commercial for Bliss’s new campaign.

Thanks to Miguel, she was sat at the chef’s table with several other high-profile guests and enjoyed a delicious four-course meal later that evening. Although dinner was incredible, it was three hours long and Courtney was eager to depart and get some rest after flying; tomorrow she would explore the island.

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Courtney said, pulling her rental car over along the side of the highway. Despite Miguel’s insistence that she take a hired car, Courtney had decided to tour the island herself without a guide. She hated to be tethered down to a set itinerary, and she’d had a good time driving around the island all day. But this was not on the menu.

Courtney jumped out of the Dodge Charger in her shorts and tank top and stared down at the rear driver’s-side tire. She had a flat. She’d never had a flat in her entire life, and she certainly didn’t know how to change one. She glanced around the dirt road but didn’t see a car in sight. She’d passed a gas station a couple of miles back, but that was quite a hike. Courtney glanced down at her Manolo Blahnik shoes. They were not made for walking, especially not in ninety-five-degree weather.

It was already sweltering hot outside. The sun was high overhead and Courtney could feel the first beads of sweat beginning to form on her brow. She hated to sweat unless she was playing a sport or being active in her favorite spot: the bedroom. She leaned inside the window she’d rolled down earlier and grabbed the bottled water she’d been smart enough to bring, then took a generous swig.

An hour later, the afternoon sun was baking her delicate café-au-lait skin, so Courtney pulled out the car manual and reviewed how to change a tire. It might as well have been written in Portuguese. She only spoke fluent French and a little Spanish, so she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. She would have to fly solo. Courtney opened the trunk and took out the donut from the floor. She found some device called a lug wrench and what she could only assume was a jack to lift the car.

She was bending down to take the lug nuts off the hubcap when she heard the roar of an engine coming down the highway. She had a savior, thank God!

* * *

Jasper sighed wearily as he drove back to the resort in his pickup. He’d had a long first day. After completing the usual employment paperwork, he’d met up with the superintendent of the construction company to walk the site. He had put on his hard hat and steel-toe boots and followed him outside. The superintendent had introduced him to his laborers as well as several key subcontractors, such as the electrician, plumber and finisher and painter. Jasper shook hands with each of them. He intended to talk to them extensively, on the sly of course, to see if he could figure out exactly what was going on at his hotel.

The day had been long. Jasper had forgotten what backbreaking work it was to be in construction. He was ready for a nice hot shower and to change into his linen trousers and Tommy Bahama polo shirt. That is, until he saw a statuesque beauty bending down on the side of the road, wearing skimpy shorts and a formfitting tank top.