Sex on Flamingo Beach by Marcia King-Gamble Page A

to stick out like a sore thumb.”
    â€œWhy, because I’m white?”
    â€œNo, because you’re so not a local.”
    Rowan clutched his heart. “How can you say that? I’m not wearing a straw hat or shirts with hibiscuses all over them.” He stuck out a boot-clad foot and sniffed loudly. “I’m not wearing socks with sandals, either, and the last I looked I don’t have sunblock on my nose.”
    Blanca took one look at his expression and doubled over laughing. She was actually holding her sides.
    â€œYou are too much.”
    â€œCome with us to the Haul Out,” Derek invited.
    â€œThanks, but I gotta get home. I have a kid to pick up and my old man would kill me if I put so much as my big toe in that joint.”
    â€œWhy?” Rowan asked, more curious than anything.
    â€œBecause it’s what’s known as a meat locker.”
    They locked up and Blanca went on her way. The men headed in the opposite direction.
    â€œWhat’s there to know about Emilie Woodward?” Rowan asked as they were driving along.
    â€œJoya could give you the 411 better than I could. They’re quite good friends.”
    â€œSo I’m supposed to call up your wife and ask? Like she would tell me a thing. Where’s Emilie from originally?”
    â€œNew Jersey. She was living with some attorney for a while but the relationship ended badly.”
    â€œAnd that turned her off of men?”
    â€œI wouldn’t exactly say that. She gets her share of male attention. She’s just particular.”
    â€œParticular in terms of preferring men of her own race.”
    â€œIt just makes it easier all around I guess. Less problematic.”
    â€œAnd I thought you were my friend. Are both of her parents black?” Rowan asked. Derek’s glance shifted from the road momentarily. “I mean, she is very light skinned.”
    â€œWe come in all shades and colors. Anyway that’s a question for Emilie. She’s the first to tell you what she is. And in case you didn’t know it, kids of white and black parents are usually considered black.”
    They’d reached the Haul Out. After circling the block a couple of times Derek gave up on finding a parking spot close by and drove down the street.
    Three blocks away they finally found a space.
    â€œThis town’s going to need paid parking soon,” Rowan commented, looking at the bumper-to-bumper cars on either side of the road.
    â€œDon’t even go there. We’re already over committed. Between the mall and this new casino we can’t take on another project.”
    â€œIf we don’t jump on it someone else will,” Rowan said sagely. “I’d be willing to broker a deal with Shore Construction to get it done.”
    Derek tilted his head, thinking. “Hmm. Preston’s got his hands full with all the opportunists buying the run-down old homes and wanting them restored. But he just might go for it.”
    Preston was Derek’s old employer. Derek, a trained engineer, had come back to Flamingo Beach wanting to learn the construction business from the bottom up. His goal had been to eventually own his own construction company. Preston Shore had hired him, but then Rowan had come along with an offer too good to refuse, even offering him a piece of his business.
    In front of the Haul Out, people spilled onto the sidewalk, smoking as if it was going out of style. Rowan, recognizing several of his construction team, nodded.
    â€œHey, boss. Out for the evening?”
    â€œGood evening, sir.”
    â€œNice weather, huh?”
    No one seemed especially surprised to see him there. He’d always had a reputation for getting down with the best of them.
    They pushed their way into the bar, sidestepping the crowd. Most of the folks Rowan had seen around town. Raised beer bottles acknowledged his presence, but other than that no one paid him much attention. He scanned the