Sex on Flamingo Beach

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Sex on Flamingo Beach Page 13

by Marcia King-Gamble


  “His loss. He’d have to be a fool to give you up.”

  Rowan was both angry and jealous of a man he’d never met.

  “Maybe he just wasn’t ready for commitment,” she said out loud in a matter-of-fact way.

  “I’m ready,” Rowan said, surprising himself even more. “So ready. If you give me a chance, I’ll show you just how ready I am.”

  His arms circled her waist and surprisingly she didn’t pull away. He racked his brain thinking how best to communicate his sincerity; talking didn’t seem enough. He had to find a way to show Emilie that, even though he wasn’t one to stay put, his intentions were honorable.

  “Emilie,” he said, “I’d hire you in a moment if Landsdale and Knight were stupid enough to let you go.”

  “You would? In what capacity?”

  It was hard to read her or guess what she would say.

  “In public relations, communications, something like that. I’ve seen you deal with all kinds of people. Your people skills are excellent. My business is growing in leaps and bounds. Currently I hire an outside firm to take care of my business. I could use someone in-house.”

  “That’s a very nice offer,” she answered. “You really are a decent guy.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for a while. You chose not to believe me.”

  In a surprising move, Emilie laid her head on his chest.

  “You’d create a job for me.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  Rowan scooped up a handful of her curls, holding it in his palms. He could smell the clean fragrance of freshly shampooed hair and feel the texture of the red hair he so admired. He kissed the top of her head. She tightened her hold around his waist.

  “Let me make love to you again,” he said, his lips again grazing the top of her head. “Let me prove to you how I feel.”

  In another surprising move, Emilie walked inside with him. She slipped out of the billowing skirt and tugged off her halter top. She stood before him in thong panties and a strapless bra, her statuesque body and full breasts conjuring up all kinds of sensual memories that he’d tried so hard to repress.

  He had to touch her, needed to. The pad of one finger outlined the hollow of her neck and slowly made its way down to nestle in her cleavage. Emilie captured that roaming finger and slowly raised it to her lips, moistening it with her saliva. She guided that same finger into the cup of her bra, letting it rest on one puckered nipple.

  The tip of Rowan’s tongue grazed her neck. He cupped her breast in his hand.

  “Feel what you do to me,” he said, taking her hand and resting it on his growing erection.

  Rowan thought he would jump out of his skin when Emilie ran her hand across the fabric that had tented. She yanked on the zipper, releasing him into her palms.

  “Bad boy, no underwear?”

  “The boys like their freedom on vacation.”

  The boys were getting quite a bit of attention now and loving every moment of it. He was already completely erect.

  He’d brought protection with him because he’d been so confident that they would get here. Rowan stepped away to shield himself and returned to find Emilie had shed her underwear.

  She was unbelievably beautiful and not at all self-conscious in her nakedness. Rowan was out of his clothes in seconds and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and wound her arms around his neck. He sat her down on the desk and positioned himself between her legs, entering her with a control he didn’t know he possessed.

  When her muscles clenched around him, emotions ricocheted through Rowan with wild abandon. The sight of Emilie’s flushed face, the scent of her body, the taste of salty flesh pushed him to the brink. With a supreme effort he slowed things down, wanting her to be ready when he was. When the first tremor rippled through her he was right there with her, matching her spasm for spasm, and holding her so close that their bodies melded and he felt as if they were one person.

  Emilie refused to spend the night with him even though he tried his best to persuade her. Eventually he walked her back to her room, leaving her with a kiss and the promise to meet for breakfast and a day of scuba diving. After the kind of lovemaking they’d just shared she had to know how he felt about her.

  Emilie closed the door and pressed her back against it. She brought a shaking hand to her bruised lips, lips that Rowan had kissed, and kissed again until they were raw. She’d sworn she wouldn’t sleep with him again and yet it had happened. There was something so charismatic about the man that whenever he touched her common sense took a backseat.

  She didn’t want to be anyone’s booty call or convenient sex toy. In addition to the color issue, which he kept insisting was no big a deal, she was still unhappy about the way he’d avoided talking about his ex-wife. And she wasn’t sure whether he’d told her the truth or not about the impending acquisition. But despite all these reservations she’d slept with Rowan. What a pathetic soul she was. She needed to have her head examined.

  Emilie washed up quickly and climbed into bed. Her body was still buzzing from Rowan’s lovemaking, and her head was buzzing from all her confusing thoughts. She had one day left in his company. Hopefully he would keep his word and have Twenty Cents and Ice Cube judge the jam session.

  She could very well be wasting her time moving ahead with her idea for the jam now. She might not be in charge of sales at the Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort for too much longer. The department could easily be headed up by someone else and filling the rooms would be their headache. But she was no quitter. Until she was officially told otherwise she would continue plugging away.

  In just over twenty-four hours she would know something for sure. Until then Emilie was going to put the whole thing out of her mind and enjoy Harbour Island and Rowan’s company.

  On Tuesday it would be back to business as usual, if she still had a business to go to.

  Chapter 14

  On Tuesday, shortly after sunrise, the Cessna touched down at the Flamingo Beach Airport. No sooner were they on the ground than Emilie felt the tension in her neck and shoulders return. Reality was about to intrude in the form of work.

  She drove Rowan to his town house and then went home to change clothes and grab a quick cup of coffee. For once she arrived at the office before Zoe. She spent the first half an hour going through e-mails. Word had obviously gotten out and the sales force was panicking. They were shooting questions at her that she didn’t know how to answer.

  Zoe came racing in ten minutes late. “I’m sorry,” she said, tossing her bag on the desk and quickly booting up her computer. “You heard, didn’t you?”

  “What should I have heard?”

  “That the hotel is sold.”

  “I understood it to be an acquisition.”

  “Sold as far as I’m concerned. I’m telling you right up front that I’m starting to look around. I need a job. Tom wants you to call him, by the way. He said first thing.”

  Emilie accepted the note Zoe had scribbled with Tom’s cell phone and his number at Knight headquarters in Boston. Knowing that she would most likely get him on his cell, she tried that number first.

  “Thomas Burke.”

  His formality indicated he hadn’t glanced at the incoming number. He must be knee-deep in traffic.

  “Tom, it’s Emilie.”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “In the Bahamas. I’m owed time, remember?”

  “Well, you chose a really bad time to take off. I needed you on Friday.”

  “I left two hours early, Tom,” Emilie said through gritted teeth. “And I had no idea you were going to show up and call a meeting. What’s going on?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard by now. Landsdale has acquired Knight.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Emilie asked, her teeth clenching and unclenching.

  “Too soon to tell,” came the noncommittal answer. “Your role is to keep the rumors at a minimum. It’s more important than ever that everyone
stays focused. It’s work as usual. Your goals haven’t changed. Keep the hotel as full as possible until I tell you otherwise.”

  Emilie asked the question foremost on her mind.

  “Does Landsdale still plan on building a casino?”

  “As far as I know. I haven’t heard anything different. Then again I’m not one of Landsdale’s executives, at least not yet.” He laughed nervously.

  Zoe stuck her head in the open doorway signaling time-out with her hand. Emilie ended the conversation with Tom.

  “Larry Moorehouse’s on the phone and Isabella Fuentes from the chamber of commerce left a voice mail.”

  “Let’s hope this is a go-ahead. Put Larry through.”

  Emilie was anxious to hear if Larry had talked the musicians into moving the show, if only on a temporary basis. If she could still pull this off it might work to her advantage. Lansdale might view her as a valuable player and someone they should definitely keep on.

  “Hi, Larry,” she greeted. “Tell me you’ve got good news for me.”

  “The majority of the musicians are excited about the change and the exposure. They’re especially pumped about Tre taping the show and they’re hoping for television coverage. Plus, if some money’s being funneled back into the community, it can only do good.”

  “What about the city council?” Emilie asked.

  “I play chess with some of the men. They think it’s a good move.”

  “Okay, let me call Isabella Fuentes back. I should be able to get a reading from her.”

  “If we have the council’s blessing when do you think we can reasonably start?”

  “In a month or so. We’ll need time to advertise the change of location.”

  Emilie hung up and promptly called Isabella. When the community relationship manager came on the line she asked. “So, do you have an update for me?”

  “I do. The city council members met yesterday. The majority decided changing the jam’s locale is worth a try, even if it’s only temporary.”

  “Well, that’s good news.”

  “I heard about the Landsdale acquisition,” Isabella fished. “That organization is really moving in and taking over Flamingo Beach.”

  Rather than comment, Emilie thanked her for her help. She got off the phone as soon as she decently could.

  After that she caught up with e-mails and took phone calls from anxious sales reps. Come lunchtime she met with Keanu Dinkins and Joya. Keanu, as the convention services director, and Joya, who assisted him with event planning, needed to know what they were taking on. Changing the jam’s venue meant lots of work for them.

  They sat around the pool tossing out ideas. Joya, who’d brought her laptop with her, was busy taking notes.

  “We’ll need to get word out quickly that we’re moving the jam here,” Keanu suggested.

  “I was going to use my advertising budget for radio spots on D’dawg’s and Tre and Jenna’s shows.”

  “I love it!” Keanu shouted excitedly. “What about a full-page Sunday ad in both the Flamingo Beach Chronicle and the Southern Tribune?”

  “Yes, that, too, and huge posters at the restaurants and stores. Especially those on the Row.”

  “Historical Row gets a lot of action these days,” Joya chimed in. “I know my grandmother will definitely hang anything you send her in the window of her quilt shop. Harley Mancini and Chet Rabinowitz of All About Flowers will, too.”

  Chet was the mayor’s gay son. He and his father frequently did not see eye to eye. Chet was as unconventional as they came.

  “Flyers are cheaper than posters,” Keanu said sagely as Joya made notes.

  “I was thinking ads on park benches and on the boardwalk,” Emilie enthused, getting into it.

  “The city should be picking up some of the cost,” Keanu grumbled. “They stand to benefit from this.”

  For the next half an hour they continued to brainstorm.

  “Shoot! I’m late for another meeting,” Emilie said, jumping up. “Send me a recap of what we discussed.”

  When she entered her office, the woman from Davey’s Locker was waiting. Emilie had hoped that by partnering with the marina specializing in the lunch cruises it could be mutually advantageous. If she could convince the resort’s concierges to sell the lunch experience, in exchange Davey’s Locker could push them as the best place to stay. It would be a win-win situation for them all. And she would throw in a continental breakfast for any guests sent their way.

  By the time Emilie finished her sales pitch she was wiped. Too much sun from the weekend and too little sleep.

  “I’ve got to get back and help our broker with the mayor,” the representative from Davey’s Locker said.

  “What’s going on with Mayor Rabinowitz?”

  “Oh, he’s buying a yacht, a huge one, an expensive one.”

  “Oh?”

  The woman took off promising to get back to Emilie next week with a proposal as to the best way they could leverage off each other’s business.

  Emilie filed the information about the mayor away to mull over later. She didn’t think city officials got paid that much, but what did she know?

  “Sister, girl, you’ve got flowers,” Zoe said, the minute the woman was out the door. She stuck her head into Emilie’s office. “Anything you want to tell me?” She held up a ginger jar containing the hugest sunflowers Emilie had ever seen. “Where should I put these?”

  Emilie pointed to a spot on the crowded credenza. She was used to getting gourmet baskets and mixed bouquets from clients, but not sunflowers. Sunflowers were a more personal touch. They were her favorite flowers.

  Zoe was still waiting for her to say something.

  “The suspense is killing me. Aren’t you at least going to open the card?”

  “I suppose I should.”

  Emilie took the card out of its envelope. It had a border of the same sunflowers. Since the florist was All About Flowers, she strongly suspected Chet Rabinowitz was behind it. Chet could be a pain in the butt, but he did have excellent taste.

  Emilie’s cheeks heated up as she read the note.

  Thanks for an incredible weekend. We should do it again.

  Hugs and Kisses,

  Rowan

  Sweet of him, but he was deliberately choosing not to get it, and he was sending her flowers in the hopes of wearing her down. She picked up the phone, not so subtly dismissing her assistant.

  “Before you call whoever it is,” Zoe said, “there’s something else you need to know.”

  “This sounds serious. Perhaps you should have a seat.”

  Zoe sat, her normally animated features now solemn.

  “You know I go through your e-mails and handle the ones I can.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Well, I’ve been keeping some from you.”

  “Why?”

  That wasn’t Zoe’s style. The thing that Emilie had always liked about her assistant was that there was no subterfuge. She’d always spoken her mind and given unsolicited opinions. She also kept Emilie abreast of what was going on at the hotel.

  “I printed out copies of the e-mails and placed them in a folder. I can go get them if you like.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what’s in them.”

  “They’re not very nice, and they’re not signed. Someone, or several someones, has a problem with you dating Rowan James.”

  Emilie was on her feet. “That’s nothing new. It’s no one’s business but we’re not exactly dating.”

  “The e-mails accuse you of crossing over and some pretty ugly stuff. You’re called a white-person lover amongst other things.”

  “Are there any that are threatening?”

  “Not overtly.”

  “Then I don’t want to see them. Toss them out.”

  “I don’t think that’s smart. I’ve got to get back to work.” Zoe rose and began backing out of the room. “I’ll hold on to that folder for a while.”

  Outside a man cleared h
is throat.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Zoe called. “Um.” She stuck her head back in seconds later, whispering, “There’s a fine man out here who says his name is Mack Allen, and no, he does not have an appointment.”

  Emilie wondered what had brought the engineer to her office. He was a welcome and nice distraction.

  “Give me a couple of minutes and then send him in.”

  Emilie used that time to touch up her makeup, studiously avoiding looking at the beautiful arrangement on her credenza. It was a poignant reminder of a man she liked maybe too much.

  A perfect example of what she would face if she got further involved with Rowan lay in Zoe’s folder. She didn’t need hate mail or her future children harassed. Where did that come from? No, someone like Mack Allen was a better choice.

  “Hi, what brings you here?” she greeted Mack when he came sauntering in.

  “I got done with a meeting early and remembered you worked here, so I asked the front desk how to find you. Nice flowers. Is it a special occasion?”

  Those damn flowers again, a reminder of Rowan and a relationship that could never happen.

  Emilie smiled brightly at him. “Not really. It’s just a thoughtful gesture sent by a friend.”

  Mack must have decided it was smarter to leave it alone. “How was your weekend?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Very nice, thank you. How are you enjoying your stay?”

  He had to have seen her leave with Rowan and put two and two together but he wasn’t letting on.

  “I’m learning quickly that everyone knows everything in this town and can’t wait to share it.”

  “Welcome to Flamingo Beach,” Emilie said, splaying her arms.

  “Before I put my foot in my mouth, I should ask if the relationship is serious.”

  Here it came.

  “What relationship?”

  “Uh, with James, the developer.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but what concern is that of yours?”

  Her directness did not seem to faze him.

  “I came to ask you to a cocktail party to commemorate the ground breaking. I don’t think it’s appropriate if you’re already involved.”

 

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