Sex on Flamingo Beach

by Marcia King-Gamble

  “I’m not and I accept.”

  Mack looked as if she’d just handed him the keys to her home.

  “Great. Sorry I can’t give a lot of advance notice. It’s tomorrow. Is that a problem?”

  “Tomorrow’s good.” It gave Emilie time to catch up on a few things. If she played her cards right she could make this cocktail party work for her, maybe she could even find out what was going on with the Landsdale-Knight thing.

  “Tomorrow it is then,” Mack said, sounding more chipper than when he arrived. “I can pick you up if you’ll give me your address.”

  “How about I meet you here in the lobby. I’ll probably be working late anyway. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

  No way was she having a man she didn’t know pick her up at her home.

  “Six o’clock, then?”

  “Yes, six would be perfect.”

  As Mack was about to leave, she stopped him.

  “How does the Landsdale-Knight acquisition affect you contractors?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything seems to be moving ahead as scheduled. We’re still breaking ground. Enjoy your flowers.”

  Those flowers again. Which reminded her she owed Rowan a call to thank him.

  Emilie picked up the phone again. She got Rowan’s voice mail. It seemed cold and impersonal to simply leave a message thanking him for the sunflowers. Deciding to try again later, she hung up.

  She picked up the ginger jar with the flowers and headed out. In the parking lot she ran into Joya.

  “How did the weekend go?” her friend called to her. “Earlier we couldn’t talk.”

  “I had a good time.”

  “Just a good time?”

  “It was relaxing. Are you in a rush to get home?”

  “Actually no, Derek and Rowan are meeting with the architects designing the mall. I’d welcome a girlfriends gab session.”

  “Come over for a little and I’ll call out for food.”

  “You sure?” Joya asked, eyeing her carefully. “You must be beat after a long, sun-soaked weekend.”

  “Ethiopian food sound good to you? We should come up with a game plan, anyway, in case we both lose our jobs.”

  “Don’t remind me. That’s all everyone’s been talking about since the general manager, Owen Schwartz, and Tom called that meeting”

  Joya climbed into her Beemer and followed Emilie back to 411 Flamingo Place. She and Derek had just moved into the newly constructed villas nearby. Derek hadn’t wanted to be too far from his beloved great-grandmother, Nana Belle. She’d turned one hundred the same year Flamingo Beach had celebrated its centennial.

  Now Derek was considering buying Belle’s house that he’d renovated. It was right off the boardwalk and had been in the family for years. It all depended on whether he could convince his great-grandma to go into assisted living.

  They ate their Ethiopian dishes under the watchful eye of Big Red, using their hands as was the custom. Afterward they debated having dessert.

  Joya crossed over to the coffee table where Emilie had set down her flowers.

  “These are nice. Anything you want to tell me about them?”

  “No. But if you’re asking who sent them, Rowan did.”

  “He’s classy. I wish I could say the same for a lot of the men around here.”

  Joya glanced around the living room where they’d been eating cross-legged on the floor. “Why all the empty boxes?”

  “The condo’s sold, remember? I’m going to have to move.” Emilie had begun collecting boxes every time she went to the grocery store. “Maybe I’ll be moving farther away than I initially anticipated,” she added sadly.

  “You think that’s a possibility?”

  “Yup. Who needs two sales and marketing directors?”

  “You’re being pessimistic. Companies the size of Landsdale and Knight can’t possibly be managed by just one sales executive.”

  “They’ll only need one sales force so why not one sales director? Rowan did offer me a job, but I think he was joking.”

  “He’s a nice man. You should start taking him seriously.”

  Emilie narrowed her eyes at her friend. “How can I entertain a romance if I’ll be out of a job? You’re probably safe, anyway. You’re the one and only event planner. As your boss likes to tell us, he is a convention manager not a planner.”

  “If I get laid off, Derek and I talked about trying for a baby,” Joya said, a contented smile playing across her face. “He’s doing okay financially, and now would be a good time to try.”

  Everyone around her was talking babies. First Chere and now Joya. And here she was in her mid-thirties with no prospects in sight. Maybe she should seriously consider exploring the possibilities with Mack Allen.

  “Mack asked me to a cocktail party tomorrow. It’s after the ground breaking,” Emilie shared.

  “You accepted?” Joya’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline. “How could you?”

  “Why not? I’m not spoken for.”

  “You’re asking for trouble. Those two men work together. Derek probably forgot to mention it to me but that’s one party I won’t miss now. I can’t wait to see your men duking it out.”

  When the phone rang, Emilie groaned. She crossed one finger over the other. “Let’s hope this isn’t the hotel. Hello.”

  Emilie refused to admit that her heart pounded in her chest and her palms went clammy when she heard the voice on the other end.

  “Hi, how was your day? Anything special happen?” Rowan asked.

  The sound of his rumbling voice on the other end sent a sharp jolt through her. The strangest flutter began at the base of her gut.

  “You beat me to it,” Emilie said as calmly as she could. “I was planning to call you later and thank you for the beautiful flowers. How did you know I like sunflowers?”

  “I have my ways. I had a wonderful weekend with you and I’m hoping that you’re free tomorrow. It’s short notice, but it’s a command performance and I’m hoping you’ll be my date.”

  Her stomach did another ominous flip-flop.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m already going with someone else.”

  A long silence ensued on the other end.

  She could have delivered the news more graciously, she supposed. He was classy enough to send her flowers, and she was blowing him off. Well, not really blowing him off, she was just otherwise committed.

  “Let me guess,” Rowan said, his voice dangerously low. “You’re going with that engineer.”

  “I am.”

  “And since he’s the right color he’s a perfect match for you.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to respond right away, because Rowan was right on. She was using her head and not her heart.

  Chapter 15

  “The party looks like a hit. Not bad for being thrown together only a couple of days ago,” Mack said, turning over his Lexus to the parking attendant.

  “What a beautiful home,” Emilie commented.

  “I was told it was recently restored. Keith’s renting it.”

  They climbed three front steps and entered through columns. Mack had his hand on Emilie’s back as he squired her through the open door.

  Inside, a handful of people were sipping drinks and conversing. Judging by the buzz of conversation from outdoors the majority were on the terrace. Taking her with him, Mack headed out.

  An exuberant, overdressed crowd surrounded the buffet tables and bars. From the looks of things half the population of Flamingo Beach had come out. Emilie strongly suspected that several hadn’t actually been invited. They’d probably tagged along with a friend as they had a tendency to. Keith, who’d grown up in the town, was being indulgent and treating it like an open house.

  Mack swiped two glasses of a salmon-colored liquid with a jaunty umbrella off a passing tray. He handed her one.

  “What is it?” Emilie asked him.

  “Prickly Pear Margaritas would be my guess.”

 
Emilie took a sip, letting the cool liquid trickle down her throat. “Whatever they are, they’re good.”

  Mayor Rabinowitz, in another of his pastel suits, was working the room and pumping hands. Miriam Young worked the opposite corner. She’d upgraded her slippers to sequined flip-flops. In typical sycophantic style, Stephen Priddy trailed the mayor.

  So far neither Rowan, Derek nor Joya were anywhere to be seen. Emilie presumed they were late. Maybe Rowan had decided not to attend because she’d turned him down. Nah, she was flattering herself. This was his project and he’d be here at some point.

  “Do you know all these people?” Mack asked, moving his hand from the small of her back and settling an arm around her waist.

  “Most of them. Let me know who you want to meet.”

  Spotting Selma, the resort’s newly hired manager of guest satisfaction, she wiggled away from Mack and headed over. He followed closely on her heels.

  “I had no idea you were coming, Selma,” she greeted her colleague, who seemed not to have a date. “This is my friend Mack Allen.”

  They exchanged the usual pleasantries, and then moved on, heading for the buffet tables. Plates of hors d’oeuvres in hand, they began scouting for an empty table.

  “There are two vacant seats next to the design team,” Mack pointed out, gesturing to an area overlooking the gardens. “We’re going to have to hurry if we want them.”

  His hand returned to the small of her back as he nudged her along. Mack was pleasant enough, but she just wasn’t feeling him. He was what she thought she wanted, yet they just weren’t connecting.

  After successfully nabbing the seats, and making the requisite introductions all around, Emilie homed in on the conversation.

  “I heard you landed quite the coup, designing the mayor’s new house,” Mack said to the architect to his right. He was African-American, young and a little too full of himself.

  “Yes, I’m pumped at the idea of getting to showcase my stuff. It’s been a long time coming. Designing five thousand feet of prime oceanfront is nothing to turn up your nose about.”

  “I hear there’s going to be an indoor pool, sauna and gym. Is it true the bathrooms all have gold faucets?” another man seated around the table asked.

  The young architect made a zippering gesture across his lips.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “What’s wrong with the mayor’s old house?” Emilie couldn’t stop herself from asking. She’d attended a cocktail party at the mansion not too long ago and found the place awesome. As she recalled the spacious house was located on the golf course in an elegant country-club setting. No expense had been spared on decorating.

  “The maintenance and upkeep of an older house are too much for Mayor Rabinowitz,” another man filled in.

  “Hmm. I thought the town of Flamingo Beach paid for all his expenses.” The comment slipped out of Emilie’s mouth before she could stop it.

  An uncomfortable silence followed. Emilie took advantage of it to head to the ladies’ room, but it really was just an excuse to get away. She was beginning to regret coming with Mack. Not that she didn’t like him, there just wasn’t any chemistry.

  On the way over, she spotted Joya and Derek. Emilie made her way toward them.

  “Hi, you two. It took you long enough to get here.”

  “We’ve been here for at least half an hour,” Joya answered, offering her cheek up for a kiss. “Where were you?”

  “Over there.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of where Mack was sitting.

  Derek hugged Emilie. He followed his hug with a long, throaty whistle.

  “Girl, that dress is you.”

  His wife elbowed him in the gut. “Behave yourself, please.”

  “Ouch! That hurts. I thought you ladies liked compliments. Wait until Rowan sees her.”

  He would have to bring up Rowan’s name.

  Emilie tugged on the strapless white linen dress she’d worn with lime-green sandals and matching accessories. Combined with her red hair you couldn’t miss her. She’d picked that dress knowing full well Rowan would go ga-ga when he saw her.

  “Where is Rowan?” Emilie asked carefully.

  “Probably picking up his date.”

  “Date? Rowan has a date?” She felt as if someone had jabbed her in the instep with their stiletto heel pump.

  “You didn’t expect him to come solo. You turned him down flat, missy, at least that’s what he told me. Where is your date?” Derek asked.

  “Sitting where I left him. There’s a heated discussion going on about the new house the mayor’s building. It sounds like quite the McMansion to me.”

  “What new house?” Derek asked, shaking his head.

  “Where is he getting this money?” Joya voiced what Emilie had been thinking.

  “Who knows? First he buys a yacht and now a new house. Something is rotten in the town of Flamingo Beach. Makes you wonder if those rumors about kickbacks might be true.”

  “Hush, someone might hear you,” Joya said, shushing her up. “I didn’t know about the yacht. That man’s living large.”

  “Ladies, pull yourselves together. My partner has arrived. Wouldn’t be cool to be found dishing.” Derek gazed off in the direction of the sliding doors leading outside. “I’d better go over. Joya, are you coming?”

  Emilie’s glance shifted to the area where a crowd milled. She was dying to see who Rowan had brought as his date. And although she would never admit it, she wanted to size up the competition and assess his taste.

  “Yes, sure,” her friend said reluctantly. “We’ll catch up later, Emilie.”

  Left to her own devices, Emilie made her way to the bathroom. As usual there was a line of women waiting. She returned to find Mack surrounded by several of the town’s single ladies. He seemed pleased by the attention, but opened up the circle to let her in.

  “I need to speak to Keith Lightfoot,” he said, taking her hand. “And I should see if my engineer friend, Morse, has arrived. Coming?”

  “Sure.”

  She couldn’t very well say that she preferred to stay here and not face Rowan. She’d just have to brazen it out. Rowan had a date and she had a date. Might as well meet the competition and see what she was up against.

  Rowan wasn’t so sure bringing a date was a good idea, especially since he really didn’t know the woman. But Tre and Jen had been after him to at least meet her. Tiffany was a newly hired reporter at the Flamingo Beach Chronicle. She was smart, pretty and could hold her own in any conversation, but she wasn’t Emilie.

  Tiffany stood beside him as he made small talk with his friends and colleagues. Keith had imported his date from out of town, and Stephen Priddy had dumped his browbeaten wife on anyone who would have her to make rounds with the mayor. Everyone was clutching drinks and speaking in voices that were way too loud. Where was Emilie? In the crush of people not one red head was to be found.

  When someone tapped his arm, he turned to find Jen, Tre and a small entourage of people. With their arrival the energy changed and the conversation turned to The Tre and Jenna Show. Rowan had hoped that by now Mack Allen and his date would have made their way over. He’d pegged the engineer as the ultimate schmoozer.

  “Your friends are great,” Tiffany said, placing her hand on his forearm. “I didn’t realize building a casino was such a big deal, and that you were so important.”

  “In a town this size, everything’s a big deal. And I’m not that important. I went through hell just getting permits to get the mall started. Breaking ground was a project in and of itself.”

  Tiffany’s laughter tinkled. She really was a pretty woman with beautiful porcelain skin. She seemed to really like him and was an expert at ego stroking.

  “Does this party have room for two?” a deep male voice asked.

  Mack Allen had one of those rumbling masculine voices that got your attention.

  His date had Rowan’s attention. Emilie was a knockout in white. Her full breast
s were outlined against the linen material. The matching earrings and necklace made her green eyes look like pools of jade that he could easily get lost in. Every man on the terrace was drooling and that lecherous Ian Pendergrass was making his way over.

  Mack Allen had the good sense to position himself across from them, close to Keith and his date. Emilie caught Rowan’s eye and shot him a mysterious smile, nodding her hello.

  “What a stunning woman,” Tiffany commented. “Do you know who she is?”

  “Emilie Woodward. And yes, she is beautiful inside and out.”

  Ian Pendergrass had somehow managed to position himself next to Emilie. The old geezer’s hand squeezed her bare shoulder and he bent over to whisper something in her ear. Rowan itched to tell him to keep his hands to himself.

  Derek had worked his way over to stand beside him. In a low voice he said, “Did you know the mayor was building a new house?”

  “No, you’re kidding me, right?”

  “I just heard he bought a yacht.”

  “Where is all this money coming from?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Rowan checked to make sure Tiffany wasn’t standing by herself. Joya had her under her wing and was taking her around.

  “Where did that lot come from?” Rowan asked, referring to a crowd of starchy people whose clothing shouted New England.

  “Landsdale executives, I think. Word has it they’re here to check out the resort and spa and make their assessments. How are things going with Tiffany?”

  “She seems to be a nice woman.”

  “Nice is a diplomatic way of saying not for you.”

  Rowan shrugged but remained noncommittal. He couldn’t keep chasing a woman who clearly didn’t want him. He needed to keep his options open.

  Stephen Priddy, still abandoning his wife, joined them.

  “You guys should be able to make your six-month deadline without a problem,” he beamed, downing his drink.

  “We expected to make it,” Rowan said. “That’s why we have project managers.”

  “Well, the changes should make it that much easier.”

  “What changes?” both men asked in unison.