Free Sex on Flamingo Beach by Marcia King-Gamble

hookers.”
    â€œWhat about organized crime? And money laundering? Build a casino and that comes with the territory,” someone else shouted out.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous,” Stephen Priddy shouted back. “The money a casino will bring to this town will more than make up for the occasional drug bust or mugging. You people are being shortsighted.”
    It was definitely the wrong thing to say. The reporters had a field day with Stephen while the mayor sat silent. It was left up to Keith and Rowan to bail him out and try to convince the media it wasn’t just about money.
    And even when the press conference ended, Rowan knew their would be a backlash from Stephen’s unfortunate choice of words.

    â€œYour man’s on the news,” Zoe shouted from the outer office, her eyes glued to the small television that sat on the shelf directly in front of her desk. “He doesn’t look happy.”
    â€œWhat man?” Emilie shouted back.
    â€œThat hot developer, Rowan James. The one building the mall and now the casino.”
    Curiosity more than anything else forced Emilie to stop in the middle of sending an e-mail to the business development team. She stepped out of her office to find Zoe’s eyes glued to the television set.
    â€œSuch drama,” her assistant said, one finger twisting a cranberry-tipped dreadlock. “And here’s our lovely mayor puffed up like a Thanksgiving turkey while those guys take the heat.”
    â€œWhat did I miss so far?”
    Zoe filled her in, her comments about the mayor getting uglier by the moment. She definitely wasn’t a fan of his.
    â€œI’d much rather be watching my favorite soap opera than this,” she groused. “They’ve been going on and on about how good the casino will be for this town. Money is going into someone’s pocket.”
    â€œI’m sure,” Emilie said dryly, “No one’s talking about the tax abatements these guys will get to make it happen. Turn up the volume, please.”
    Emilie listened to the reporters go at it. The camera panned to Mayor Rabinowitz’s constipated face as he expertly deferred all the difficult questions to Rowan and Keith Lightfoot. The reporters were mercilessly pelting question after question at them.
    She was pleased to note Rowan handled himself with aplomb. He answered the most difficult questions with a forthrightness that surprised even her, speaking in simple terms so that the average layperson got it. Instead of revenue, which she’d thought a man in his position would be espousing, he talked about showcasing the town, improving property and revitalizing business while at the same time preserving the environment.
    Finally it was over. A reporter wrapped up the broadcast by saying, “Will the Seminole-Landsdale partnership be good for the town of Flamingo Beach? Only time will tell.”
    â€œWhat do you think?” Zoe asked, her eyes again glued to the monitor and her soap opera that had come back on. “Will building a casino be good for this town?”
    â€œYou’re asking the wrong person,” Emilie answered, retreating back to her office. “When I hear about a casino all I think about is competition. I’m going to try to get some work done. My next meeting isn’t for another couple of hours. If someone from the Chronicle calls put them through, anyone else take a message.”
    Emilie shut her door. She needed a moment of quiet. She’d been trying not to think about Rowan, but for one reason or another he kept popping into her head. And now seeing him on television made her realize how much he’d gotten under her skin.
    She still blushed thinking how she’d raced from his truck the other night and headed for her apartment. She couldn’t let temptation get in the way and sleep with him again. This unwanted attraction called for drastic measures. She needed to get involved with someone