Sex on Flamingo Beach Read online

  Getting Emilie to trust him and realize he was sincere was going to be a challenge. She had her guard up—a barrier he planned on penetrating. Rowan had tried everything to convince her he was cool, and that her ethnicity wasn’t a problem for him, but she either wasn’t listening or he wasn’t getting through. He refused to believe she didn’t care.

  What he’d failed to share was that his upbringing was far more humble than hers. He’d grown up in the projects in a tough Brooklyn, East New York, neighborhood. While other white families raced for the suburbs, his parents, both factory workers, stayed put. He’d been left with no choice but to adjust and fit in. And so he’d grown up playing stickball and basketball with black and Latino kids.

  As he got older, he began dating his playmates’ sisters, who by then didn’t seem to notice the color of his skin. He knew the urban slang, holding his own with the best of them, and when it came to street brawls he could match the nastiest gang leader blow for blow. Growing up under those circumstances made him appreciate his success even more.

  Rowan wondered if helping Emilie fill up her overpriced hotel would guarantee her attention.

  Derek Morse, his new partner, was at his door.

  “Keith Lightfoot just pulled up,” he said. “Are you ready for him?”

  “Sure.” Rowan took his feet off the desk, stood and stretched. It was an important meeting. Rowan needed to convince Keith that although the competition might come in cheaper, James Morse, Inc.’s, work spoke for itself. They would get the job done according to specifications and in the allotted time.

  “Hey, Keith,” Rowan greeted, meeting him at the front door of the office he’d leased.

  Keith had brought with him a sullen-looking man that he introduced as Stephen Priddy, the Seminole group’s newly hired CFO.

  Inside his cramped office, Rowan waved both men into chairs. Derek went off to get them water, and Rowan wondered why his part-time assistant, Blanca, wasn’t doing her job. He hadn’t seen her in at least half an hour.

  “Landsdale is interested in working with you,” Keith said, getting to the point. “They like your reputation. But you’ll need to get your pricing in line with the other guys to be considered.”

  “Just how far off am I?”

  “Way off,’’ Priddy said, slapping down a spreadsheet on Rowan’s desk. He stabbed a finger at a bidder whose name had been whited out. “You’ll need to come in around here for us to even look at you.”

  Rowan quickly did the math in his head. “I’m not sure that’s doable,” he said. “You often get what you pay for. My references are excellent and my jobs all come in on time. I would consider taking less of a bonus to make this work.”

  “How much less?” Stephen inquired, his calculator of a brain already crunching numbers.

  Rowan named a figure and Keith shot Stephen a charged look.

  Derek had found Blanca wandering around somewhere. She carried foam cups, water and coffee on a tray. When she bent over to place the items on Rowan’s desk, Stephen Priddy almost lost it. Blanca’s tight, short skirt left little to the imagination. Her ridiculous high heels made her totter.

  Rowan had tried talking to her about professional dress, but she wasn’t getting it. Since he was paying her minimum wage, and she could at least type and had computer skills, he’d given up. Good enough that she showed up to work and actually got something done.

  “If you want to meet Lansdale’s tight six-month deadline you’re going to need men in place within ten days,” Derek said dryly. “There’s construction going on all around us and you’ll be hard-pressed to find an unemployed builder or laborer for miles. I don’t think we can count on Shore Construction to help out, either. They’re booked solid,” Derek said, referring to his old employer.

  “Hmm. Then we’ll need to bring in people from other parts of the country. I have that card from the woman at the resort. Stephen, you call and see if she’ll cut us a deal. Let’s guarantee her two hundred rooms for the next six months.”

  “I’m assuming you’re speaking of the Flamingo Beach Resort and Spa,” Rowan interjected, spotting an opportunity here. “It’s the only place in town that can guarantee the number of rooms you require, and they need the business. The added advantage is that it’s a Knight property. Your men can see firsthand how the place performs.”

  “They’d get an insider’s view at the competition,” Keith said astutely, following his comment with a chuckle.

  “Exactly.”

  It was good that he didn’t have to push. The minute the meeting was over Rowan planned on calling Emilie and tipping her off. He’d make sure she knew he’d been the one to put in a good word. Maybe he could even convince her to go to this Saturday’s jam session with him.

  Keith stood and shook Rowan’s hand, signaling the meeting had concluded.

  “Stephen and I will discuss adjusting the bonus and see if the figures make sense. We’ll get back to you.”

  “I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” Rowan said, keeping his voice even. Let them think he wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to work on their project. He wanted the business, but not that badly that he would discount his services. He and Derek already had their hands full building the enclosed mall.

  “Something about those two makes me uneasy,” Derek muttered after they’d left.

  “Lightfoot’s okay, but Priddy’s an unknown quantity. It’s getting Landsdale on our client list that has me jazzed. I’m going to run down to the mall and see what progress has been made. Want to join me?”

  “Can’t today. I’m chasing some business on Pelican Island and I have to be at a meeting within the hour.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk when I get back.”

  Both men headed off in different directions.

  Rowan made a stop at the construction site and spoke briefly with the project manager and foremen. Satisfied that work on the mall was on track, he decided a surprise visit to Emilie might be in order. He hoped to persuade her to have lunch with him.

  He pulled into the resort’s parking lot and made his way to the executive offices. Zoe, Emilie’s assistant, had always liked him.

  “Hey, good-looking, long time no see,” he greeted her when he sauntered in.

  “Hey, yourself. The boss is in a staff meeting. Want me to page her?”

  “No, she’s not expecting me. What’s her lunch schedule look like?”

  Zoe checked her computer monitor. “You’re in luck. She doesn’t have anything scheduled until later this afternoon. Why don’t you hang out with me?”

  “Okay.” Rowan folded himself into the chair she indicated. “So what’s the boss’s favorite flower?”

  “Sunflowers. She’s not your traditional rose girl.”

  “Gotta remember that.”

  Zoe stuck a pen behind her ear and gave him her full attention. “So what’s up? You took her out to dinner the other night. Now you’re talking flowers. You two must be getting serious.”

  Rowan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Emilie told you we were out?” He wondered what else Emilie had told her assistant. The two seemed friendly enough, but he’d gotten the impression that Emilie wasn’t one to cross the line between business and pleasure.

  Zoe laughed loudly as if he’d said something funny.

  “Hon, this is Flamingo Beach. Everyone knows everything or makes it up. If you ate at Mario’s you might as well have advertised it in the Chronicle.”

  “Something else for me to remember,” he joked. “So how much longer do you think your boss is going to be?” He crossed his arms, preparing to take a catnap while he waited.

  Zoe glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. “The meeting should wrap up in ten to fifteen minutes. Where are you taking Emilie for lunch?”

  “You ask way too many questions.”

  Emilie’s assistant didn’t seem at all bothered by his gentle chiding. “I was going to suggest a place on the Row, Flamingo Row. It’s sort of retro. The carhops roller-
skate to the car and take your order.”

  “Sounds like fun, but I have something entirely different in mind.”

  Closing his eyes, Rowan ended the conversation.

  Emilie felt the animosity in the air. It was a palpable thing and had been this way from the moment she walked into the meeting. She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy addressing the business development group, requesting them to get their numbers up. They already thought she was too demanding.

  Most had driven in for the meeting from the surrounding towns and they were a group not used to sitting. She’d already reminded them of their quarterly goals and that had elicited loud groans. It was Emilie’s responsibility to keep the team motivated and make sure that they understood what needed to be accomplished. So far every statement she’d uttered had been challenged or met with a negative comment.

  “This wasn’t our understanding from the last meeting.”

  “How can you all of a sudden change the numbers midperiod?”

  Emilie tried explaining that a major increase of sales was needed in order to keep the hotel open and the bills paid.

  “We face another challenge,” she said. “I’ve just learned that there are plans to build a casino and resort across town, which means we’ll have to fight that much harder to keep occupancy levels up.”

  The business development group uttered a collective groan.

  “Isn’t Rowan James, your good friend, the developer heading up that effort?” someone asked.

  There were titters. The “good friend” bit was meant to be a dig. She chose to ignore it. Earlier when she walked into the room she’d overheard the mumblings about the “sistah selling out.” They’d quickly shushed when she took her position at the front.

  Emilie kept a straight face when she answered. “James Morse, Inc., is one of many being considered.”

  Flamingo Beach was still provincial in so many ways. The vast majority of the population was African-American and although they coexisted with other ethnicities, people for the most part didn’t date outside their race.

  She’d not hidden her friendship with Rowan. The assumption was that theirs was a budding relationship, and she’d known that would not necessarily go over well with a fiercely proud African-American demographic. Not that it was anyone’s business whom she dated, and certainly not the business of her employees. But Emilie was certain that there was gossip since most made it their business to keep informed.

  “Here’s the deal,” Emilie continued. “You are going to have to increase your sales calls to meet the new goal. I’m expecting each of you to do your part to get us there.”

  Another audible groan resonated then the reps began whispering amongst themselves. Emilie clapped her hands, bringing the group back to order.

  “We can do it. Your incentive is that very attractive trip to Europe that the Knight Corporation offers its top performers. Let’s use the next few days to brainstorm. You’ll break into six groups and select a leader. That leader will e-mail me your collective ideas and plans to execute them by Monday at the latest. The meeting is now officially over,” Emilie said.

  This conversation had left Emilie mentally drained and feeling that Tom Burke should have at least been there to give her his support. She stopped to answer questions and clarify points for the sales force. They were panicked and feeling overwhelmed. Tourists did not normally flock to Florida during the summer months and each salesperson knew they had a big job ahead. It was another fifteen minutes before she was able to leave the meeting room.

  When Emilie returned to her office she found Rowan, eyes closed, sprawled in a chair across from Zoe. She shook her head and groaned out loud.

  “How long has he been here?”

  “Maybe a half an hour or so,” Zoe whispered.

  “Where did you tell him I was?” she asked, attempting to tiptoe by.

  “In a meeting. I thought you’d be done sooner so he decided to wait.”

  Emilie groaned again and Rowan opened his eyes.

  “I thought you’d be a lot more excited to see me,” his gruff, wide-awake voice called. “I’m here to take you to lunch.”

  “Lunch? I may not have time.”

  “Sure you do. Your calendar is wide-open until—What did you tell me, Zoe?”

  Rowan’s dreamy blue eyes focused on her assistant, who was all of a sudden engrossed in her typing.

  Emilie was going to kill Zoe. She’d warned her time and time again not to share her schedule with anyone outside of the corporation. And Rowan was so nervy assuming that because he showed up she would go waltzing off to lunch with him.

  “So what do you say?” he asked in his usual cocky manner.

  “I say you’re used to getting your way.”

  Rowan’s laughter rang out.

  He was brash and overconfident, and although they’d slept together she’d had no expectations beyond that. Rowan James was not relationship material, at least not in her book. But her reaction to him now was very confusing, and even more confusing was her suddenly dry mouth. Maybe she should go to lunch and put it on the table.

  “Okay, as long as lunch isn’t one of those three-hour deals,” Emilie said grudgingly.

  Rowan eyed her high-heeled pumps with the open toes. “You’ll need to change your shoes.”

  “Why? Where are we going?”

  “On a boat.”

  “I don’t have the whole afternoon,” she reminded him, sliding by and heading into her office.

  Emilie kept a change of clothing and sneakers in her desk drawer. It was a habit she’d picked up earlier in her career. In the hospitality business you had to remain flexible since client meetings could be poolside or on a golf course. However, Rowan James was not a client.

  “Do I pass inspection?” Emilie emerged from her office and twirled around.

  “You always do. Nice sneakers.”

  She ignored Zoe’s slightly raised eyebrows as they headed out.

  Within five minutes they’d pulled up in front of a marina on one of the more isolated canals in town.

  “Lunch is here?”

  “I take it you haven’t been to Davey’s Locker before.” Rowan led the way across the parking lot. Colorful pontoons were docked in the back.

  “I guess I’ve missed this experience,” Emilie said.

  “Lunch cruises, they’re called. The marina showcases their boats for sale while their passengers have a pleasant experience. Some days it’s fishing vessels, others, sailboats or cabin cruisers. Today looks to be pontoon day. It’s a pretty innovative idea, don’t you think?”

  Emilie had to admit it was quite novel. She was already thinking how to partner with the outfit and increase the resort’s business.

  Rowan purchased their tickets, and they were handed box lunches as they boarded. They quickly found seats in the back. Emilie noted that the passengers were mostly families on vacation, but she did spot a few locals who looked at her curiously trying to assess the situation.

  As they floated down the canal, Emilie shed her jacket and bit into her fish sandwich. She took a swig of delicious orange juice and decided to enjoy the time. However, relaxing was somewhat difficult when she was so close to Rowan. She could smell his uniquely masculine scent, and feel the brush of a muscular arm. She decided to focus on the water and the homes being renovated along the shore. Being away from the hotel was exactly what she needed after that stressful sales meeting.

  “Let me be the first to tell you the good news,” Rowan said, breaking into her thoughts, his arm grazing hers again. He swigged his orange juice while Emilie tried not stare at his hands. Those very large hands were capable of magic.

  “I’m all for good news.” Emilie tossed a mass of curls back and took a rubber band out of her purse. She bunched her hair into a ponytail and gave him her full attention. “What?”

  “Stephen Priddy should be calling you.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The Seminoles’ chief financial offi
cer”

  One of Emilie’s shapely eyebrows rose. She couldn’t help being suspicious. “Why would he call me?”

  “Because I put in a good word for you. Stephen is going to need two hundred of your rooms for the next six months. I thought you would be pleased.”

  “Pleased is an understatement. I’m ecstatic.”

  Not caring who saw, Emilie threw her arms around Rowan’s neck and kissed him. He reciprocated by wrapping his arms around her waist and really kissing her, giving her tongue and all.

  “Bad, boy,” she said, pushing away from him. “By far this is the best news I’ve heard in weeks. Reason to celebrate. I owe you big-time.”

  “How about we celebrate together on Saturday evening at the jam session?”

  After what Rowan James had just done for her there was no way she could say no.

  “Okay. You’re on. Come over to my place around six and we’ll go together.”

  “Baby, baby, baby, you know I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 4

  The first of Joya’s singles parties looked to be a huge hit when Emilie entered the lobby. There were wall-to-wall people. The noise level was deafening and the bar packed. Emilie had noticed how crowded the parking lot was when she’d pulled into the employee lot. Cars were double-and triple-parked.

  Joya was to be credited for bringing in the business. As the resort’s in-house event planner, it had been her idea to partner with a party organizer. She’d negotiated a lucrative contract for at least half a dozen of these parties. The resort was also offering discounted rooms to those who hoped to get lucky.

  Emilie was surprised Flamingo Beach had this many singles. She figured the advertisement must have gone out to the neighboring towns. It amazed her how much people were willing to pay for a social function with no guarantee of finding a soul mate. That reminded her it was high time she did something about finding her own Mr. Wonderful—someone with the potential to go somewhere.

  As Emilie was about to slip into her office, a dark-skinned man in sunglasses stepped into her path, folding a business card into her palm.