Private Lessons

Her gaze faltered. Her full, glossy lips pinched ever so slightly. “Yes,” she murmured, and pushed her sunglasses back up along the bridge of her pert nose.

She adjusted her sheer tangerine-colored wrap across her lap and folded her long fingers on top. Did he have to say “virgin” so loud?

She shifted her body on the blue-and-white-striped lounge chair and crossed her ankles. She glanced toward the pool—and when she drew in a breath of sheer shock and pleasure, all the air stuck in the center of her chest. He emerged from the pool and pushed up onto the deck, the muscles in his arms bulging and glistening. The water clung to him as if it didn’t want to let him go, even as he took a towel and wiped the droplets from his face and broad shoulders.

Naomi commanded herself to breathe before her head started to spin from lack of oxygen.

Brice couldn’t believe his luck. It was her. Stretched out like a Nubian goddess. He’d noticed her when she’d arrived at the hotel the prior afternoon. Then, she was disguised in a two-piece skirt suit. Her dark black hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, forcing her cheekbones to stand out against her warm brown complexion, and giving her expression an exotic appearance.

She’d crossed the lobby with the assurance of someone used to exerting her authority, and walked directly to the check-in desk. Alone. He’d looked for her later that evening in the lobby, the bar, the restaurant and even out on the beach. It was almost as if he’d imagined her. Until now.

He draped his towel around his neck. This time he wasn’t going to let her get away. He started off in her direction, but slowed when he watched the exchange between her and the waiter. She practically shoved the glass at him, and the tight purse of her lips didn’t invite conversation. Maybe he needed to set his sights elsewhere, after all. He walked toward the bar instead.

Naomi watched him change directions and her heart sunk. She was sure that the gorgeous man that she’d noticed since yesterday was actually heading in her way. Wishful thinking. Even if he did decide to introduce himself, she’d probably make a mess of it. Relationships weren’t her strong suit. She was an academic, a nerd, a brainiac, a one-time child prodigy turned genius, with a doctorate and two master’s degrees. Whose favorite pastime was reading a good book. Her intellect generally put most men off, which effectively limited her dating prospects.

Getting away and taking a vacation far from her normal life was her best friend Alexis’s idea. They were supposed to travel together, but at the last minute Alexis had to cancel, due to her mother’s illness. So here she was, alone, like a fish out of water and not a clue what to do next. If she wasn’t as passionate about money as she was about books, she would have cancelled the trip. But the “no refund” policy stopped her cold.

“Your drink, ma’am.”

The condescending waiter was back. “Thank you,” she murmured.

He gave a slight nod of his bald, shiny head and walked away.

Naomi took off her sunglasses and set them on the table next to her and picked up her drink and sipped from the straw. She took a long, slow look around her.

Everywhere that she turned people were having a ball. Couples toyed with and teased each other, small groups held impromptu parties and stray singles seemed to quickly find a partner.

Her brows pulled together. Why was this so difficult for her? Why was it always so hard for her to loosen up, relax and enjoy herself?

The truth was, she’d never had time. From the time her parents realized that they had a baby genius, they scraped and saved to put her in every kind of class they could afford: piano, violin, dance, math, science. But then her father had a heart attack when she was fifteen, and he was totally incapacitated. Naomi’s classes came to a grinding halt. She took on a job after school, took care of her younger brother, Paul, and helped her mother around the house. Her entertainment became the world of books.

When it was time for college, Naomi put that out of her head. It wasn’t an option for her. Her parents had exhausted their savings taking care of her father, and she was vehement about not leaving them, even when her parents insisted that she go. It was her guidance counselor, Ms. Adams, who convinced Naomi that to waste her intelligence would be a crying shame. Throughout her high school years, she’d been more than a stellar student and was slated to be valedictorian, graduating a year early.

She would be the first in her family to go to college, Ms. Adams had insisted. Don’t waste your gift, she’d urged. After much cajoling and insistence from her parents, Naomi let go of the reins on her dreams and with Ms. Adams’s help began filling out applications. By the time she was halfway through her senior year, she had her pick of universities and the scholarship money she’d needed.

Naomi chose Spelman so that she could stay close to home. Then she was admitted to Columbia University in New York for her two graduate degrees in English and Contemporary Literature and her doctorate in African-American Studies.

Now, at thirty-four, she was a tenured professor at Atlanta College, on track to become dean. She had a house, a car, a fulfilling career—but, as Billy Dee William said in Mahogany, it’s nothing without someone to share it with.

“Are the drinks that bad?”

Naomi blinked and looked up, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun with the curve of her hand. It was him!

She nearly spilled her drink.

She ran her tongue across her lips. Brice tracked the sensual movement and wondered if it was as sweet as it looked.

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” she finally managed to say.

“You’re frowning. Is the drink that bad,” he repeated.

The sun blazed behind him, casting him in a magnificent glow that created an almost surreal image.

“Oh.” Her light laugh fluttered and stumbled in her throat. “Just thinking.”

“Antigua isn’t the place for deep thoughts. Mind if I sit down?” He indicated the empty chair beside her with a lift of his chin.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Don’t act too eager. Play it cool.

He lowered his long, lean body onto the chair and stretched out. Naomi tried to swallow over the hard, dry knot that rose in her throat as she glanced down at the bulge in his swim trunks and the tight muscular thighs. A line of perspiration broke out along her hairline. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. Breathe.

“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?