Marcia King-Gamble - Sex On Flamingo Beach

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 officer”

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.”

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.

“Hey, I’m Duncan,” he said. “I noticed you the moment you walked into the lobby.”

Emilie was so taken aback she stuttered, “Uh…I beg your pardon.”

“You’re here for the party, right?” He glanced at her ring finger and smiled. “The singles party?”

“Actually I’m not here for the event. I work here.”

“Too bad. Maybe you’ll change your mind and attend.”

“Some other time, perhaps.” Emilie smiled vacantly and attempted to slide by. A noticeably crestfallen Duncan slunk past her.

Duncan seemed pleasant enough but so not her type. The last thing she needed was to have it all over town that she attended a singles party at her work-place. It would surely scream “desperate” and get the tongues wagging even more.

Emilie entered her office and flipped on the light. Zoe was long gone, out of there on the dot of five. But Emilie had forgotten a folder she needed. She’d promised Tom Burke he’d have the room occupancy report on his desk first thing tomorrow and she planned on working at home. Hopefully business would pick up in the next two weeks. If not, it wouldn’t be for her lack of effort. Tom would be pleased with the signed six-month, two-hundred-room contract from Landsdale International but that still wasn’t enough.