Sex on Flamingo Beach by Marcia King-Gamble Page B

minuscule dance floor where several women were shaking their booties and some. The men, on the other hand, were eyeing them hungrily while hugging the wall.
    Rowan followed Derek up to the bar where they tried valiantly to catch the bartender’s eye. It took some doing but finally they got their beers on tap and by an unspoken agreement decided to hang out there.
    A hand tapped Rowan’s shoulder. He turned to see Sheena Grace, one of Chere’s friends, checking him out. Sheena was wearing one of those short skirts that you couldn’t sneeze in, and a cropped top that left several inches of tattooed skin bare. She also had on heels that could put a man’s eyes out.
    â€œIt must be the big boy’s day to go slumming,” she said, her eyes traveling the length of Rowan, as if she had X-ray vision and knew what was under his clothing.
    He chugged his beer and slowly returned the stare. Sheena didn’t even squirm. She was one pushy woman and had a reputation for getting around.
    â€œI’m just winding down after the workday, like you are, Sheena.”
    Not getting the desired reaction, she turned to Derek. “I’m surprised your wife’s letting you out these days.”
    â€œIs there something you wanted?” Derek asked, slanting his eyes her way. “If not, you’re interrupting. There are plenty of other targets here.”
    She snorted. “Jeeze, can’t a person stop by to say hello without having some ulterior motive? First, Keith Lightfoot shows up here with his buddy and now you two. The Haul Out’s never seen this much big-boy action. Must be something going on.”
    â€œKeith’s here?” Rowan asked. He hadn’t seen anyone who even vaguely looked like the Native American.
    â€œHe sure is. He’s over there trying to get people to sign up for jobs. He’s dropping bucks and buying drinks, recruiting people to help build the casino. He and that friend of his are making all kinds of promises. Heck, he even offered me a job but I turned him down flat. I’m not dirtying my hands. You know what acrylic nails cost these days?” Sheena stared at her pink nails that had glittery stuff on them.
    Derek and Rowan exchanged glances. “Maybe we should go over and find out what’s going on.”
    â€œI’ll take you over to where he is,” Sheena volunteered.
    She pushed her way through the crowd, stopping upon occasion to kiss someone she knew, which was almost everyone.
    Keith Lightfoot and Stephen Priddy were in the back room where the pool tables were. They were surrounded by a circle of people. Sheena, Rowan and Derek stood on the fringe of the crowd watching the action. Priddy was up front and center, happy to have the attention.
    â€œWe’ll pay you twenty-five percent more than you’re making to come on with us. Where else would you get such an offer?” he said to the mostly male gathering.
    â€œWhat about benefits? My company offers me a 401(k), dental, medical, vision. That’s worth twenty-five percent to me.”
    Stephen glanced at Keith, who nodded his head slightly.
    â€œWe’ll have to get back to you on that. We’ll discuss it with Landsdale International and come up with something.”
    â€œSo what else are you offering?” a burly man in the front row yelled. “I hear you’re getting a bonus to bring the project in on time. What about us? Would we get a piece of that action or what?”
    When Stephen wasn’t able to think quickly enough, Keith bailed him out.
    The Native American councilman had a commanding presence and a way of speaking that caused people to sit up and listen. While his expression was often hard to read he came across as sincere. Rowan wished he could say the same of Stephen Priddy.
    â€œWhat we can guarantee is that you will have as much work as you want,” Keith said. “And for as long as you want it. We pay an attractive