Sex on Flamingo Beach (16 page)

“You don't look very happy,” a familiar female voice said, trailing a hand across his back. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

“I'm not.”

“What's up? Want to talk about it?”

Emilie's beautiful green eyes regarded him with empathy. How much had she overheard? Had she followed him inside to talk, or was she on the same mission he'd pretended to be?

What he really wanted to do was curl up in a nook, rest his head on her beautiful breasts, have her stroke his hair, and just hold him.

“I'm totally pissed,” he admitted. “And before I go off, it's better that I work it out up here.”

She eased onto the window seat at the end of the hallway, crossing one strappy-sandaled foot over the other. Her exposed leg was driving him insane.

“I'm all ears,” she said. “Let me guess, it's either Priddy or our wonderful mayor that's set you off.”

He trusted her. She had no agenda, at least not one that was obvious. Rowan let it rip, spilling it all.

“What!” she shouted “This is unbelievable. How can they do this?”

“Very easily. Landsdale will simply claim that the acquisition caused them to adjust plans. Since they're no longer a competing property, they'll only need to expand.”

“But the Seminole-Knight group has an agreement with you. This deal was worked out way before there was any talk of an acquisition.”

“Exactly, and what they'll say was that there was no guarantee the acquisition would go through, so building a casino from scratch was a contingency plan.”

“And then you'll get screwed and I'll get screwed. Landsdale will bring in their own people, and I'll be gone like that.” She snapped her fingers, emphasizing her point. “You must have legal recourse.”

“Yes, but that could take years, and by the time it gets settled we'll have put out hundreds of thousands of dollars on legal representation. You have nothing to worry about. As I mentioned before I'd hire you in a minute. Why aren't you with your date?”

“We're not joined at the hip.” She smiled at him.

“Isn't he what you wanted, a black, professional male, about the right age, on his way up?”

Rowan looked closely for a reaction. Emilie gave him one of her wide-eyed smiles.

“If I told you I was beginning to rethink my position, what would you say?”

He plopped himself down next to her. “Baby, I wouldn't be doing a helluva lot of talking, I'd be doing this.”

Wrapping his arms around Emilie, he pulled her tightly against his chest. The thrust of her hardened nipples through the thin material of the linen made him lose control. Rowan probed her lips and plunged his tongue into her waiting mouth. If they were anywhere else but here they'd be doing something far more intimate in minutes.

“Baby,” he said again, “if you ever doubted it, there's no one else that makes me feel the way you do.”

“Not even the hot woman you're with?”

“There's only one hot woman I'm interested in, and she's finally coming around.”

“Is she now?” Emilie said, rubbing her breasts against his chest and at the same time licking his lips. She was driving him crazy.

“Stop it, babe, or we're going to make the front page of every tabloid in town.” Rowan gestured to where his pants had tented. “It's going to be a while before things calm down.”

A throat cleared behind them.

“I was trying to find an unoccupied bathroom,” a strained female voice behind them said.

“Down the hallway and to your right,” Rowan answered without turning around.

When the footsteps beat a hasty retreat he realized whom he'd been talking to. Jumping up, he raced after his date.

“Tiffany. Tiffany, wait up. Let me explain.”

“I
can show you a couple of properties on the other side of town if you want,” Chere offered, an eye in the rearview mirror of her new vehicle. “They're cheaper and I don't think you'll like them, but you never know. You've had your mind set on Flamingo Place for so long.”

“Right now, even if I could afford it I shouldn't be buying a thing.”

“Why's that?” Chere asked, taking her eyes off the road for a moment. “I thought the hotel was doing okay business, especially considering it's summer.”

Chere, in Realtor mode, had been driving Emilie around for the last two hours. So far they'd seen the good, the bad and the ugly. Nothing was cheap or struck Emilie's fancy, but she had to at least look. Quen's condo that she was renting had a contract pending.

“I'm not sure what's going to happen with my job,” Emilie said honestly. “I'm hoping to find out something for sure next week after the Landsdale executives leave.”

“Hot damn, girl, they'd be fools to get rid of you. You've classed up that place and brought in plenty of business.”

“Tell the new owners that.”

“You know what I'm thinking?” Chere didn't wait for Emilie's answer; she made a sharp right turn. “Quen Junior's getting hungry. He eats every chance he gets. I must have already piled back on ten of the pounds I took off. We'll grab something to eat at the Catch All.”

Emilie was not about to tell Chere that she'd noticed she'd gained a little around her middle. Besides, she didn't think Chere would care. The part-time Realtor, part-time administrative assistant at the
Flamingo Beach Chronicle
was one of those people who was happy with herself, and happy with life in general. For a few unsettling months, in an effort to win her husband's heart, she'd tried to reinvent herself. But then she'd discovered after numerous stunts that it wasn't so much her weight but her health that Quen was concerned about. It was Chere's outgoing personality and confidence that he loved most.

Emilie was feeling hungry, as well. Lately she'd been so anxious about what would happen to the hotel and her job, she'd been picking at her food then pushing it away. She'd felt awful about the Tiffany incident. She didn't know how the woman felt about Rowan, but it was poor form to move in on someone else's date. She hadn't meant for that to happen.

Emilie had actually considered calling the woman up and apologizing, but then rather than make things worse, she'd decided to leave it alone. Rowan had gone charging after Tiffany, anyway, and she hadn't heard a word from him since then.

The Catch All was, as usual, packed to the max. It was one of the few places in Flamingo Beach still reasonably priced, and the all-you-can-eat buffet was surrounded by patrons with heaping plates. Every now and again some local got caught sneaking food out.

“We need a booth,” Chere said to the hostess, scanning the room to see who was leaving.

Without waiting to be escorted in, she positioned herself next to one in the back. The moment the occupants shoved their plates away she began hovering.

“I'm pregnant, you know,” she said, hugging her belly.

That seemed to do it, because all of a sudden several booths cleared out and she and Emilie had their pick.

“What about that one?” She pointed to a booth close to the buffet and without getting Emilie's agreement dove in. “Go get food. Two plates. Doesn't matter what you put on them. I eat everything.”

Emilie returned with two full plates. She had the feeling what she didn't finish Chere would gladly eat. Fifteen minutes later there was nothing left of their food.

“My girl, Sheena's, pissed at you.” Chere set down her napkin.

“Why? What did I do to Sheena?”

“You moved in on Rowan, and now you've aggravated her even more because she set her sights on that new engineer.”

“What's her problem? I thought she wasn't big on crossing over. As for Mack Allen, Sheena's welcome to give him a shot.”

“You don't want that fine man?” Chere shot her a dubious look.

“I need to concentrate all my energy on what's going on at work.”

“The truth about Sheena,” Chere said, “is she wouldn't mind getting into that white man's pants. He's got money and Sheena's all about money.”

Emilie noticed the line of people waiting for a booth and suggested they leave. She didn't care for where the conversation was heading. Chere and Sheena were longtime friends. Not that she didn't trust Chere, but she had to wonder, why bring Sheena Grace up?

Seated in the car again Chere said, “Should I go ahead and show you the other properties or am I wasting my time?”

“Might as well see them all.”

For the next hour Emilie saw a house that needed serious renovation to be habitable. She saw a tiny apartment that at one time must have been a garage, and then she saw a small house that seemed perfect, plus furniture was included in the price. It was more than affordable.

“This is really nice,” she said.

“I knew you would like it. But I ain't goin' to lie to you. The reason it's so cheap is 'cause there was a triple murder here. A man caught his wife cheating. He shot her, the boyfriend and then himself.”

“No, thank you,” Emilie said, practically racing for the car.

“Where to now?” Chere asked.

“Home. Might as well continue packing.”

“But you have no place to move to.”

“I have to at least start. The condo's sold. I have to get out.”

“The buyer's still working on financing, so who knows?” Chere shrugged her football-player's shoulders.

Emilie decided to mention the crazy e-mails Zoe had been intercepting. Chere knew everything there was to know around town.

“Hmm. Sounds like something Camille Lewis might do,” she said as Emilie was getting out of the car.

“But isn't Camille the type of person who would say it to your face? I mean, she's bold, brass.”

“I'll think on it and get back to you.”

For the remainder of the afternoon Emilie packed up the stuff that she didn't use on an everyday basis. Whether she stayed in Flamingo Beach or not, it looked like she was moving. When she'd done as much as she could stomach, she grabbed her skates and took off. The exercise would be good for both her head and body.

On a Saturday the boardwalk was crawling with people. The scent of popcorn, cotton candy and fried chicken lay heavy in the air, competing with suntan lotion and stale beer. Her only option, if she were let go, would be to move out of town. There weren't any other large hotels around.

What she needed was a game plan. If by some miracle she stayed in Flamingo Beach, moving into Rowan's town house was not a good option. It would only be asking for trouble. But he might consider renting the place to her since he'd made no secret that he would soon be leaving town. Accepting his job offer was out of the question. Working for someone you had feelings for was a recipe for disaster.

And she did have feelings for Rowan, but she'd denied them so far. The thing holding her back was the promise to her father to find a caring, educated black man to start a family with. For the next hour Emilie resolved to clear her mind and just skate.

She returned to the condo feeling much more lighthearted. When she picked up the messages from her cell phone she discovered Mack Allen was looking for her. He'd left a message asking if she'd be interested in attending A Taste of the Beach with him tomorrow.

Emilie had almost forgotten about the street fair showcasing local restaurants, vendors and artists. It was to be the first of many to come and there were to be clowns, finger painting and musicians. The local storekeepers were having sidewalk sales and Quen Abrahams had a booth promoting his personal training and customized meal plans.

Mack must not have heard about the Tiffany incident or didn't care. He'd been pleasant company for the most part but was most definitely not a love connection, which was why she decided to call him back. Mack Allen would be a welcome distraction and would take her mind off Rowan.

“Sure, I'd love to go to A Taste of the Beach,” she said when he answered. “How about we meet on Flamingo Row in front of the Vintage Place?”

He chuckled. “Someday I'll convince you I'm trustworthy, and you'll let me pick you up at your home.”

“Someday,” she answered, hanging up.

Sunday was one of those hot, steamy days with too little breeze. Emilie did more packing and then got ready to go. She tugged on shorts and a T-shirt and stuffed her frizzy hair under a hat and decided to pass on the makeup.

Parking as usual was a nightmare. Flamingo Row, located in the historical district, was a pedestrian-friendly area with limited parking. What the town badly needed were public garages. Emilie finally found parking three blocks away and only because someone was moving out of a space.

Following the throngs of people, Emilie headed for the assigned meeting place. The Vintage Place used to be an old liquor shop but gentrification had made it the “it” place to be. Instead of drunks in alleyways sipping from pints, business people now discussed their portfolios over wine and cheese. She was late as usual.

Mack waited out front anxiously glancing at his watch.

“Sorry,” Emilie said. “Finding a place to park around here is as difficult as finding a decent place to dance.”

He captured her hand in his. “You never mentioned you liked dancing.”

“You never asked.”

The parade had started, led by Mayor Rabinowitz dressed in a wild turquoise shirt with flapping flamingos. The mayor wore white high-waisted polyester pants and sneakers. On a float right behind him was a young woman who'd recently been crowned Ms. Flamingo Beach. Her smile was way brighter than the tiara she wore.

The local high school band came next and conversation became impossible as the tubas and drums took over. The crowds on the sidewalk got into the action, dancing along with the cheerleaders and drummers. From some unknown place confetti was flung.

Mack held on to her hand, tugging her along. They edged around crowds and skirted balloon vendors. Emilie was tempted to have her tarot cards read but Mack seemed to have a specific destination in mind so she continued along.

Food vendors, the whole point of the event, had set up stands where the street became a dead end. Emilie sampled the dishes from the restaurants that were new to town while Mack left to get them drinks.

As she was standing waiting for him to return, she spotted Rowan. She craned her neck to see if he was with anyone. Not that it mattered, she reasoned. Her heart plummeted as she spotted the woman at his side. She was dark skinned with a curvaceous build. Emilie had seen her at the Curl and Weave, which used to be the only black beauty salon in town. It was the place you went to catch up on town gossip. What she'd heard was that she was new to town and working for WARP, the radio station.

Mack came back carrying drinks and something wrapped in paper that smelled like sweet potato pie.

“I was thinking we'd find somewhere to sit and talk,” he suggested.

“Fine by me,” was all she could think of to say.

All Emilie wanted to do right now was get as far away from Rowan as possible. So much for her being the only hot woman he was interested in. Why did men lie?

They followed the sounds of a band tuning up to a spot where a stage had been erected. All of the folding chairs had people in them.

“Looks like most people brought their own seating,” Emilie said, pointing to the colorful deck chairs that the crowd occupied.

“How about there?” Mack suggested. “It's a bit of a trek but we can still hear the music.”

They trudged up an incline and sat on the grass.

“Anything new with the casino?” Emilie asked.

“Not that much. The project's still on. They're downsizing the number of rooms being built but I'm sure you've heard. There's talk about shared public areas, as well. No point in duplication if people can be shuttled back and forth.”

“Which areas would not be duplicated?”

“Ballrooms, for example. Also, building another golf course is unnecessary.”

“How does Rowan feel about this?”

“Rowan?” Mack tossed her a slanty-eyed look. “Why do you ask?

“He's the developer. These changes have to be affecting his plans.”

“Maybe that's something you should ask him.” Emilie wasn't sure if that was meant to be a dig. “That man has a million projects he's juggling. Besides, he's made no secret of wanting to leave this town.”

She was getting that sinking feeling in her stomach again that told her it might be time to start looking for a job. Come next week she would start putting out feelers. Rowan might not be the only one who was leaving Flamingo Beach after all.

“Mind if I ask you a question?” Mack asked.