Sex on Flamingo Beach Read Online Free

built town houses. One looked pretty much like the other except some had prettier landscaping.
    â€œThis is one of my developments,” Rowan proudly explained. “We’re just about sold out except for the town house I live in.”
    â€œIs it for sale, as well?”
    â€œI’m still up in the air. I’m uncertain whether I’ll be making Flamingo Beach home.”
    â€œYou don’t like it here?”
    Rowan pulled into the carport and parked before answering. “Home for me is the road. I’m always looking for new terrain to conquer. That’s why Derek and I are such a good team. He’ll take care of business while I scope out new opportunities.”
    Rowan James was definitely not the man for her.
    She’d had enough of the nomad’s life. She was sick of living out of boxes and couldn’t wait to get settled someplace.
    Rowan helped her out of the truck and hand in hand they walked to the front door. They entered a great room with huge fans whirling. A winding stair-case led up to a loft. The furnishings were minimal and the walls could use a picture or two.
    â€œWhat would you like to drink?” Rowan asked the moment she was seated.
    â€œWater, please.”
    â€œYou really must not trust me,” he said, feigning injury.
    â€œIf I thought you knew how to make a cosmopolitan that’s what I’d have.”
    Chuckling, he left her and entered his state-of-the-art kitchen. Rowan returned a short while later, a beer in one hand and a martini glass in the other.
    â€œYour cosmopolitan, madam,” he said, handing Emilie her drink before he turned on the stereo. He plopped down, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Here’s to you, babe.”
    Emilie sipped her cosmopolitan and eyed him over the rim. It was one of the best she’d tasted. “Mmm. Not bad. You surprise me!”
    â€œI have a lot more surprises in store for you.”
    She wasn’t going there. “You’re a good bartender,” she said.
    His bushy eyebrows wiggled again. “That’s not all that I’m good at.”
    The conversation was getting a bit too intimate for her liking. Glass in hand, Emilie stood. “How about showing me around?”
    Rowan gave her the grand tour of his surprisingly neat home. Downstairs, French doors separated the living room from a small office with tons of shelf space. The dining room was an extension of the kitchen, and a half bathroom provided a convenient place to wash up. Upstairs were two spacious bedrooms all with tiny back decks. One bathroom had a Jacuzzi tub as well as a shower. The other was more of a powder room and designed for the lady of the house. Recessed lights illuminated the vaulted ceilings. All in all it was a charming place to live.
    â€œSo how’s a big-city girl from Joisey adjusting to small-town life?” Rowan asked when they were seated downstairs again. He’d slipped off his loafers and began poking her with his toes.
    She grabbed his big toe playfully, capturing it between her thumb and index finger and squeezed.
    â€œI love it here. This little town’s got style and possibilities,” she said.
    â€œYou’ve got style.”
    â€œYou never give up, do you?”
    On the radio, D’dawg, the popular radio personality, was having a field day picking on Mayor Solomon Rabinowitz.
    â€œDon’t y’all think it’s high time this village loses its idiot?” he drawled. “Hit me up and tell me if you agree. Lines are open y’all.”
    One caller after another said their peace. The mayor apparently had few supporters.
    â€œHow come no one will ever admit they voted for Rabinowitz, yet he’s serving a second term?” Rowan asked, shaking his head.
    â€œBecause he stole the election from Miriam Young, better known as the Flip-flop Momma. She’s a single mom who likes to wear flip-flops. Florida has a reputation for not being