Private Lessons

by Donna Hill

  “As I was saying, Antigua isn’t a place for deep thought. You’re supposed to be having fun.” He turned his head to look at her and immediately had to order his body to back down and stay under control. He dropped his towel across his lap.

  Up close, she was more tantalizing than he’d first thought. The warm brown of her skin, tinted by the rays of the sun, was as appealing as an appetizer before the main course. Her face looked as if it had been carved by a sculptor’s expert hand: wide, dark eyes, prominent cheekbones reminiscent of the ancestors, and silky black hair. Her long neck led down to the rise of heaven. Her breasts were perfect, full and round, not too much, and not too little, her chest tapering down to tight abs, all balanced on dancer’s legs. Her body could put the Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover model to shame. That dowdy outfit she had on the day before definitely hid her assets. This was one hot sister, from the top of her beautiful head down to the tips of her pink-polished toes.

  Naomi was amazed at the length of his lashes and how they framed his dark eyes, the smoothness of his milk chocolate skin and full lips that seemed eager to offer a smile or a sensual kiss. She forced her mind away from his mouth and what he hid beneath the towel.

  “What makes you think I’m not having fun?” she asked, bringing them both crashing back to reality.

  His eyes glided slowly across her face. A hint of a smile curved his mouth. “Are you?”

  Her gaze was glued to his lips when he spoke, tracing the outline of them, their fullness and the way they matched perfectly with the hard lines of his face.

  The raucous laughter of a group of partygoers passing in front of them snapped her back to attention.

  “I’m having a ball.” She put the straw between her lips and sucked deeply.

  He chuckled. “My name is Brice.”

  His voice was like a gentle rumble before a storm, she thought.

  “Naomi.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Naomi.”

  Her heart was pounding so furiously at this point, that she was certain he could hear it.

  “Are you here with friends?”

  If she said no, would that paint her as desperate, she worried. But if she said yes, where would she drum up these “friends?”

  “I’m on vacation,” she managed to finally shoot out.

  Brice knew a cold shoulder when he felt one. It was obviously a mistake. He should have listened to his gut in the first place and stayed away. He pushed up from his seat. “Well, enjoy your vacation, Naomi.”

  Before she could think of anything to say to stop him, he was walking away. Naomi slumped back against the chair and sighed. That went swimmingly, she thought, her spirits sinking. She may as well paint a note on her forehead saying “stay away.”

  She reached for her sunglasses and put them back on to hide the disappointment in her eyes. This was only her first day and she was turning men away already. She had nine more to go. Would the rest of her time in paradise be just as miserable?

  Brice stole a parting glance at Naomi from across his left shoulder. That was a mistake, he thought, while he watched her return to her haughty pose, throwing up the barrier and her dark glasses. He shook his head and strode toward the hotel lobby, then took the elevator to his room. He had no one but himself to blame for the annoyance he felt. But he could certainly blame Naomi for the uncomfortable tightness in his groin. He should have paid attention to his gut instinct and kept his distance from the ice queen. There were plenty of lovely, available women on the island who would welcome his company. But the truth was, he’d been on the island for a week and not one of these bathing beauties had caught his eye. Until Naomi. He wasn’t the type of guy to be so easily dissuaded. His philosophy had always been “only take no for an answer when you have exhausted all possibilities.” He hadn’t even put up the good fight yet. He smiled to himself. Ms. Naomi, I’m going turn that ice into liquid fire.

  Chapter 2

  “So tell me, tell me. How was your first day?” Alexis asked.

  “Before we get to me, how is your mom?”

  Alexis blew out a sigh. “She’s doing better. But she really put a scare into me this time. COPD is no joke but she refuses to stop smoking. Just makes me crazy. They had to intubate her this time to get her lungs working. Girl, it was crazy. She should be coming home by the end of the week. I’m getting a home attendant for her. Hopefully, they can keep an eye on her.”

  Naomi harrumphed. Alexis’s mother, Sylvia, was a chronic smoker and over the past few years it had begun to really take its toll. This wasn’t her first trip to the hospital and if she didn’t do something about her habit, it wouldn’t be the last. She worried about Sylvia, and particularly about Alexis. As much as Alexis may fuss about her mother, she adored her. Sylvia had been a single mom who sacrificed to make sure that Alexis had whatever she needed and Alexis never forgot that.

  “Well, you just tell her to behave herself and that I’m thinking of her.”

  “I will. So, now back to you. How is it going?”

  Naomi hugged the phone between her cheek and shoulder while she took off her sandals and put them in the closet. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

  “Oh, Nay, what happened? You didn’t introduce yourself as doctor and act like your usual self did you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She smoothed the bedcovering and sat down.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Distant and above it all.”

  “You’re wrong for that, Lexi,” she said, feigning hurt.

  “Did you at least try to meet anyone?”

  She thought about the gorgeous man named Brice who kept invading her thoughts and then her space, and what a disaster that turned out to be. Finally, she spilled it all to Alexis. She could almost see her friend shaking her head with disappointment.

  “Girl, what am I going to do with you? Don’t you remember anything that I told you?”

  Naomi sighed. “Lexi it’s useless. I’m not like you. I’m not a party girl. I’d just as soon teach my class naked than flirt with a perfect stranger.”

  Alexis moaned. Naomi Clarke was clearly the African-American version of Dr. Brennan on the television show Bones. They were both unbelievably brilliant, beautiful and totally naive about the ways of the regular world. Rather than give in to feelings, they would prefer to rationalize everything away. It was both endearing and frustrating.

  She’d lost count of the number of times that she set Naomi up with a date that Nay turned into an inquisition or a telethon about the state of the world, people, politics, religion, education. You name it and Naomi Clarke could talk to you about it. On and on and on. Besides her bedazzling the men with her sheer volume of knowledge, Naomi had this standoffish air about her.

  The sad part was, she was the complete opposite once you got to know her. But she rarely gave anyone the chance. The only man who could even come close to holding a conversation with her were some of the other professors on campus. But that relationship choice was a definite no-no to the college administration.

  “Nay, do me one favor?”

  “What?” she asked halfheartedly.

  “Why don’t you spend the rest of the week pretending to be someone completely different?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Alexis groaned. “Playacting. Role playing. Didn’t you ever play ‘pretend’ when you were a kid?”

  Naomi frowned in concentration. “No. I don’t think so.”

  If this was anyone other than Naomi, Alexis would swear that she was lying. “Listen, this is what I want you to do…”

  Naomi took her time dressing for dinner. She’d spent most of the afternoon sitting on the balcony of her room, rereading Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, and watching with envy the lighthearted frivolity on the beach below. Why she couldn’t unwind she wondered for the umpteenth time. She didn’t “party” as Alexis would say, although that girl made it a point to hook her up with every eligible bachelor she could f
ind, and drag her to every night spot in Atlanta that played music, served drinks and had men. Those were Alexis’s only criteria.

  But Naomi wanted more than a good-time man. She wanted someone with a brain, ambition. Someone who didn’t care that she didn’t know the latest hit on the radio or that she loved movies with subtitles—and spent Saturday afternoons following new Thai, Japanese or African recipes or rereading books that she loved. And he wouldn’t care that she was probably the only black woman in Atlanta with no rhythm. None of those things would matter, because he would simply adore her for who she was, quirks and all.

  She peered into the mirror of the dressing table and applied a light covering of lip gloss. Maybe she should take Alexis’s advice, she briefly mused. Sighing, she placed the tube on the dresser top and stared at her reflection. She could almost see Alexis sitting on her shoulder, and she could hear her whispering, “live a little.”

  Naomi drew in a long breath of resolve, squared her shoulders and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her sleeveless cotton blouse, exposing a lush hint of cleavage. Frowning, she quickly fastened one button, picked up her purse and headed out for the evening, intent on enjoying herself, one way or the other. And if Brice should just so happen to give her another chance, she was going to take it!

  Brice was seated at the outdoor bar adjacent to the beachfront restaurant when he caught a flash of something soft and flowing in his peripheral vision. He turned in the direction of the movement and a knot formed and released in his belly.

  He watched Naomi move like a heavenly body toward the front of the restaurant.

  Was she dining alone? With friends? A man? He finished off his rum punch, hopped down off the three-legged stool and told the bartender to add the drink to his room tab. He left a tip and hurried toward the restaurant before he totally lost sight of her.

  The spacious restaurant was set on the beach, enclosed on all sides with netting, with a thatched roof that had hurricane lamps hanging from its rafters. Circular tables covered in white linen dotted the planked floors in a horseshoe, leaving the center for dancing. The waiters all wore stiff white jackets and black slacks. The waitresses wore all black, with white aprons. Calypso music, mixed with a little R & B, played against the sound of the waves that rolled against the shore and the seagulls that cawed in the distance.

  When he got to the restaurant’s hostess and the check-in podium he saw that Naomi was being taken to her seat. He peered over heads and shoulders to see if anyone was joining her. The waitress gave her one menu. He smiled.

  “How many tonight, sir?”

  Brice blinked at the much-too-young-looking hostess. “Oh, uh, just one.”

  “Someone will seat you in a moment,” she said with a musical lilt to her voice.

  “Thank you.” He stepped to the side and let the couple behind him move up while he kept an eye on Naomi.

  “Right this way, sir,” another young woman said, coming up to his side.

  He followed her to the opposite side of the room from where Naomi sat. She handed him a menu and asked if she could get him a drink.

  “Thanks. Yes. A rum punch.”

  “Right away.”

  Brice settled back against the rattan chair and surreptitiously studied Naomi from behind the protection of his menu.

  A waiter approached Naomi’s table and placed a pitcher of water in front of her. He filled her glass while he spoke. When Brice saw her soft smile and the way her lips moved in thanks, heard the sound of her laughter at something that was said to her, he instantly knew that he’d been silly to have cast such a harsh judgment on her. It was his ego talking.

  The waitress returned with his drink. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

  He looked up at the round, pleasant face. He crooked his finger to draw her closer.

  “See that young lady over there in the yellow?” He raised his chin in Naomi’s direction.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He went into his wallet, and took out a twenty-dollar bill. “That’s for you.” He stuck it in her apron pocket. “I need you to go over there and gently ask her if she would be interested in having a guest at her table for dinner.”

  The young lady smiled. “Of course.” She walked across the room and approached Naomi. They talked briefly for a moment and then Naomi glanced around the room and her gaze landed on Brice.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and excitement. She smiled and he could see her nodding her head. He was halfway across the room before the waitress could reach him.

  He stood above her, feeling like a pimple-faced teen at his first high school dance. “Can we start again?”

  His voice moved through her like a wave of heat. She inhaled deeply to try to still the rapid beating of her heart.

  “I’d like that,” she said softly.

  He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Brice Lawrence.”

  “Naomi Clarke.”

  The waitress returned and took Brice’s and Naomi’s dinner order. They both selected seared salmon and began with the house salad.

  “So, you already told me that you were here on vacation.”

  She lowered her eyes in embarrassment and tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Sometimes I can sound a little curt. It’s not my intention.”

  He waved off her apology. “Forget it. I was being oversensitive. Must be too much sun.” He chuckled and was rewarded with her smile. “How long will you be staying?”

  “Two weeks. What about you?”

  “That works out perfectly. So am I, or close to it. But I plan on enjoying my entire summer. After I leave here I’m off to Cancún, then I’m meeting friends in San Francisco.”

  Naomi thought about Alexis’s counsel, what she’d said about just throwing caution to the wind and relaxing. She was on vacation. She would never have to see him again if things didn’t work out.

  The waitress approached and asked if she could refill any drinks. Naomi asked what Brice was drinking.

  “I’ll have one of those,” she said. Her heart hammered in her chest.

  “One rum punch coming right up.”

  “Where are you from?” Naomi asked, trying to get herself together.

  “I live in New York. What about you?”

  “Uh, Florida.” Where did that come from?

  “Really?”

  Did he know she was lying? “Yes. Is that strange?”

  “No,” he shrugged it off. “I just don’t think Florida when I see a beautiful woman like yourself. And no, that’s not a line. I just think retirement capital when Florida comes to mind.” He leaned a bit forward. “Obviously I have to readjust my thinking.”

  Her cheeks heated with pleasure. Being a woman of many, many words, she was at a total loss.

  The music changed from calypso to something soft and slow. Several couples moved onto the dance floor.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  “Oh…I…couldn’t….”

  “Sure you could.” He stood up and took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. He rested his palm at that low dip in her back and led her onto the floor. When he found a good spot he turned her into his arms, and she nearly gasped when the full length of her body pressed up against his. For a moment her head grew light and the room seemed to shift, until he steadied her in his embrace. She felt as if she’d lost total control of her limbs. They wouldn’t move.

  “Relax,” he whispered, holding her tenderly, not too close but close enough for him to feel her warmth, the beat of her heart and the slight tremors that ran up and down her body and tingled his fingertips.

  He smelled so incredibly good, Naomi thought, and felt herself drifting easily into his embrace, miraculously following his lead without stepping on his feet.

  “So, Ms. Naomi,” he said, breathing into her hair. “How about if, in the time we have left on the island, we get to know each other?”

  She titled her head back and looked up into his eyes. “I’d like that very much.”

&nb
sp; After all, she was a woman from Florida and after this island jaunt she’d never see him again.

  Chapter 3

  He was so easy to be with, Naomi realized as they ate and talked and laughed. He was funny, handsome, sexy and intelligent. She was surprised to learn that he was a high school math teacher after leaving a six-figure job in corporate America and had aspirations of opening his own school for young men.

  “That’s a monumental task,” Naomi said. “But so desperately needed.”

  Brice nodded. “Our young black men are under siege. They need so much, and the system is set up to have them fail. When I was working on Wall Street, I was one of barely a half dozen men of color in my giant corporate building, and those other guys were working in the mail room or were on the cleaning crews. I’d go into meetings and be “the only one.” And it’s like that all over corporate America. Young black men are not in decision-making positions or making the money.” He shook his head. “They need to be prepared and not prepared to work for someone else but to be entrepreneurs, inventors, thinkers. But that won’t happen in educational institutions that don’t have young black boys interests at heart. I can’t change the world, but maybe I can start with one young man, one school at a time.”

  His voice and the fierce look in his dark eyes radiate the passion that he felt and the mission he believed himself to be on. You couldn’t listen to him and not get swept up in his dream for a better future for young black men. “How far away are you from opening your school?”

  His smile was only halfway there. “Not as near as I need to be. It will take some time, but I’m focused. I’ve been working on putting several things into place over the past year and a half. I’m getting closer.” He turned his glass around in a slow circle on the table. “Funny, I haven’t told anyone besides my best friend, Carl, about ‘my school.’” He looked into her eyes.