Sex on Flamingo Beach Read Online Free Page B

the golf course. That had given him reason to saunter into Emilie’s office every chance he got. Eventually he’d worn her down and she’d agreed to go out with him. Their first official date had been Chere Adams and Quentin Abrahams’s wedding.
    Initially, Rowan had thought Emilie was white but it was no big deal when he found out otherwise. He was used to dating women outside of his race and in fact that was his preference. He’d married a black woman. The issues leading up to his divorce had nothing at all to do with their different ethnicities.
    Emilie was a striking woman with great shoulders and magnificent breasts. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit those full breasts had turned him on from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. But it was her take-charge attitude and outgoing personality that he’d really been attracted to. He wanted to know what made her tick.
    Getting Emilie to trust him and realize he was sincere was going to be a challenge. She had her guard up—a barrier he planned on penetrating. Rowan had tried everything to convince her he was cool, and that her ethnicity wasn’t a problem for him, but she either wasn’t listening or he wasn’t getting through. He refused to believe she didn’t care.
    What he’d failed to share was that his upbringing was far more humble than hers. He’d grown up in the projects in a tough Brooklyn, East New York, neighborhood. While other white families raced for the suburbs, his parents, both factory workers, stayed put. He’d been left with no choice but to adjust and fit in. And so he’d grown up playing stickball and basketball with black and Latino kids.
    As he got older, he began dating his playmates’ sisters, who by then didn’t seem to notice the color of his skin. He knew the urban slang, holding his own with the best of them, and when it came to street brawls he could match the nastiest gang leader blow for blow. Growing up under those circumstances made him appreciate his success even more.
    Rowan wondered if helping Emilie fill up her overpriced hotel would guarantee her attention.
    Derek Morse, his new partner, was at his door.
    â€œKeith Lightfoot just pulled up,” he said. “Are you ready for him?”
    â€œSure.” Rowan took his feet off the desk, stood and stretched. It was an important meeting. Rowan needed to convince Keith that although the competition might come in cheaper, James Morse, Inc.’s, work spoke for itself. They would get the job done according to specifications and in the allotted time.
    â€œHey, Keith,” Rowan greeted, meeting him at the front door of the office he’d leased.
    Keith had brought with him a sullen-looking man that he introduced as Stephen Priddy, the Seminole group’s newly hired CFO.
    Inside his cramped office, Rowan waved both men into chairs. Derek went off to get them water, and Rowan wondered why his part-time assistant, Blanca, wasn’t doing her job. He hadn’t seen her in at least half an hour.
    â€œLandsdale is interested in working with you,” Keith said, getting to the point. “They like your reputation. But you’ll need to get your pricing in line with the other guys to be considered.”
    â€œJust how far off am I?”
    â€œWay off,’’ Priddy said, slapping down a spreadsheet on Rowan’s desk. He stabbed a finger at a bidder whose name had been whited out. “You’ll need to come in around here for us to even look at you.”
    Rowan quickly did the math in his head. “I’m not sure that’s doable,” he said. “You often get what you pay for. My references are excellent and my jobs all come in on time. I would consider taking less of a bonus to make this work.”
    â€œHow much less?” Stephen inquired, his calculator of a brain already crunching numbers.
    Rowan named a figure and Keith shot Stephen a charged look.
    Derek had