Marcia King-Gamble - Sex On Flamingo Beach

“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.