“What a mess this turned out to be,” he said, as a tearful Joya nodded her head in agreement.
When Joya was able to pull herself together she added, “So much for making a profit on this bash. You probably paid out a bundle in compensation.”
“We offered credits on future stays, complimentary drinks, meals, that kind of thing,” Emilie assured her.
“I was so proud of myself for snagging a contract for six singles parties. Owen’s probably not going to want any more of these parties on the premises now. Who would have guessed they would attract riffraff?” Joya blew her nose in the tissue her husband handed her.
“You’re beating yourself up unnecessarily,” Emilie said, giving her a hug. “The Knight Corporation would be hard-pressed to turn up its nose at a half-a-million-dollar contract. I doubt they would want to refund the sizeable deposit. Next time your party planner is going to be asked to pay for extra security and there’ll be a sizeable damage deposit requested.”
“There’s another positive,” Rowan chimed in. “The Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort will be the talk of the town tomorrow. You will have made every newspaper. You couldn’t buy yourself that publicity.”
Emilie shot him a disgusted look. “Who wants publicity of that kind? People were dealing drugs on the premises. Look at the condition of this lobby.” Her eyebrows shot to her hairline as she spotted Keith Lightfoot. “What’s he doing here?”
“He was part of my meeting,” Rowan explained. “When all hell broke loose he ended our conversation abruptly. Let me find out what’s going on.” Rowan loped off.
It would figure Keith Lightfoot had been a witness to this whole debacle. She wondered if he was spying on her or had even set up the whole thing. It seemed ironic that of all places to have a meeting he would choose her hotel. But maybe that was Rowan’s doing.
On the other hand, she couldn’t exactly ban Keith from coming on the premises. In some ways she was grateful to him. He had just committed to housing his workmen here for the next six months. If you counted meals and accommodations he was shelling out a small fortune. Money the resort desperately needed.
Still, it made Emilie wonder about the coincidence. Since the hotel had been built there hadn’t been one drug problem. It made her think that maybe the townsfolk were right. Talk of a casino was already attracting the worst human elements.
Were Keith Lightfoot and the Seminoles behind this? He wasn’t exactly the enemy but neither was he a friend. And what about Rowan? Whose side was he on…?
Chapter 5
A million thoughts flittered through her head as Emilie paced the lobby of 411 Flamingo Place. On one hand she was looking forward to seeing Rowan again, and on the other she had feelings of trepidation. He’d called last evening to remind her about the jam session. It was a popular event and parking was usually a nightmare, so they’d agreed to leave the cars behind and walk from her place to the beach.
The town was still talking about the drug bust, and it had made all of the local papers, preempting every story on the television channels. D’dawg, the popular radio personality, and his audience, practically all of Flamingo Beach, were having a field day. Nothing this big had ever happened in town. It was being blamed on the influx of new people moving in. But amazingly, bookings at the spa and resort for the summer months were now at a record high.
“This is not the way I’d hoped to get business,” Emilie’s boss, Tom Burke, groused when he saw the increase in bookings before quickly adding, “But I guess I’ll take it.”
It wasn’t the kind of press Emilie wanted for the hotel, either, but a jump in room occupancy meant she was closer to her goal.
Squealing tires now got Emilie’s attention. Rowan’s big black truck pulled into a visitor’s spot. Leaping out, he took long strides toward the building. His shorts rode low on his hips and stopped slightly below the knee, exposing bronze runner’s legs, the hairs almost as light as on his head. A short-sleeve linen shirt brought out the blue in his eyes. The lock of hair that peeked from under his baseball cap was even more sun streaked than she remembered.
“Hey, babe,” Rowan greeted her, dipping his head to steal a kiss. “Mmm, you look good enough to eat. Taste so, too.”
“Do I, now?”
“You know you do,” he said.
Emilie held up both arms and pirouetted. She loved to tease him. The eightysomething-degree weather called for skimpy attire, and her walking shorts and halter top were a perfect choice for a warm day. Because of the heat she’d piled her hair high, securing her curls with rhinestone and emerald clips, the same color as her earrings.
Was she leading Rowan on by flirting with him? If he thought the evening was going to end in the same manner it had a week or so ago, he was in for a rude awakening. She’d vowed it would not happen again. Good as the sex had been, this relationship couldn’t go anywhere.
“What’s in the bag?” Emilie asked, noticing for the first time the paper bag Rowan carried.
“A little something to cool us down.” He took her hand and walked with her through the condo’s grounds and toward the boardwalk. “How are things at the hotel? Is it back to business as usual?”
“Sort of.”
Emile told him all about how they’d increased security and that guards were now stationed in the paid parking lot. If you didn’t have identification you weren’t allowed on the premises.
“I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing,” Rowan said. “Other hotels have gone that route. It costs plenty to provide additional security so it makes sense to charge guests for parking.”
“But that’s not what the Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort is about. Parking’s always been rolled into the room price so guests feel as if they’re getting something for free. Our rooms aren’t exactly cheap.”
“How about we just concentrate on having a good time,” Rowan proposed, holding open the gate that led to the boardwalk and waiting for her to go through.
She’d put the shop talk on hold for now, but later she would ask if there was an update on the plans for the Seminole casino. According to the resort’s arrangement, the first set of workers would be arriving next week. That could mean only one thing: construction would start shortly after.
From the sounds coming from the beach the musicians were already tuning up. What had started off as an informal gathering with local musicians gathering to play had taken on a life of its own. People now came in from neighboring towns, and even as far away as South Florida. The jam had grown and grown, spilling onto the beach, showcasing the talented and untalented. Since most stores closed early on Saturdays, the session became a nice way to start off the weekend. What’s more it was free.
People whizzed by on bikes or skates. The little souvenir shops that had recently received face-lifts were crowded with browsers.
“Let’s find somewhere away from the madness,” Rowan proposed.
“Yes, let’s.”
They continued down the beach. Emilie was conscious of the stares and whispers. She was certain there was speculation that they were in a steamy relationship. And while there weren’t overt comments, she sensed the locals disapproved of interracial dating.
She’d never made a secret of being black. She strongly suspected that was the reason she’d been transferred to Flamingo Beach in the first place. Her employer’s decision probably had a lot to do with demographics.
“Oh, no,” Emilie muttered.
“Is there a problem?”
“A big one.” She pointed a discreet thumb in the direction of Camille Lewis. She was the last person Emilie wanted to run into.
Unfortunately,