“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.”
After all, she was a woman from Florida and after this island jaunt she’d never see him again.
Chapter Three
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.
Her heart pounded. “Oh. I’m…honored that you…told me.”
“You’re easy to talk to.”
Was it the way he was looking at her or the rum punch that was making her head spin?
“I’ve been so busy talking about me, what about you? What do you do in sunny Florida?”
She swallowed through her suddenly dry throat. She’d already started this off on a lie. How could she say something different now? This was crazy. She should have never listened to Alexis. “I work at a bookstore and take classes at night,” she blurted out, surprising herself with the ease of the flow. Must come from years of reading fiction, she thought in the back of her head.
“You keep surprising me,” he said. “Which bookstore?”
“Uh, Greenlight Books. It’s one of the small independent stores.”
“And you said you were going to school. What courses are you taking?”
“African-American studies.” At least that was something she could talk about with some confidence.
“That was my major in college.”
“Really?” She leaned forward, ready to immerse herself in her favorite subject.
Before they realized it, several hours, along with a couple of drinks, had passed, the crowd had thinned and the waiter was bringing the bill.
Brice looked around. “Wow, where’d everybody go?” he joked.
Naomi became instantly flustered. She reached for her purse and knocked it onto the floor. They both reached for it at the same time and bumped heads. Jerking back and holding their foreheads, they looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Brice handed Naomi her purse. “Sorry about that,” he chuckled. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Nothing that a little brain surgery won’t cure.”
“Ahhh, the lady has jokes.” He stood and extended his hand to her. “How about we walk off this food and those drinks.”
“Sure.” She took his hand, and when his long, strong fingers wrapped around hers something warm, then hot, then electrifying scurried up her arm and shot through her body.
“You okay?”
Brice was peering down into her face, his brow wrinkled with concern.
Naomi blinked and took a breath. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Oh, I thought I heard you moan. I want to be ready if I need to sweep you off your feet and carry you to your room.” He grinned devilishly and pretended to flex his muscles.
For a moment she saw herself nestled in his arms, her head pressed into the curve of his neck, inhaling that alluring scent of his as he strode across the beach, up to her room, where he would kick down the door and the music would play and it would all go black.
She’d obviously lost her mind. No more rum punch.
She gave her head a little shake. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said, forcing her head to clear. “Ready?”
“After you.”
Naomi led the way out, with Brice no less than a step behind her. His gaze trailed up and down her body, envisioning the curves, appreciating the understated but mesmerizing sway of her hips and the way the silk of her hair fell in soft wisps around the back of her neck, tempting him to touch them, run them through his fingers. It was a good thing he wasn’t going to be in Antigua for long. He could easily see himself wanting to get seriously involved with a woman like Naomi Clarke. But they lived worlds apart, and if things worked out for him the way he hoped and planned, he wouldn’t have the time needed to devote to a relationship. He took in her profile, set against the purple night sky, sprinkled with the white light of the stars and quarter moon, and he wished that things could be different.
They strolled along the beach, away from the hotel, and walked closer to the water. Naomi took off her shoes and felt oddly liberated and daring as she let the water and sand wash over her feet and seep between her toes. She giggled at the sensation, and Brice became intrigued by her joy at something so simple. Most of the women he knew would look at the experience as an annoyance, something to mess up their pedicure. A halo of a smile curved his mouth.
“How is it teaching high school kids?” Naomi asked, turning to look at him with a wide-eyed expression.
“It has its moments.” He chuckled lightly. “It’s not so much the subject matter, it’s more about seeing that bulb go off over their heads when they ‘get it.’ I teach in a really tough neighborhood in Harlem. Most of those kids are from broken homes, belong to gangs, have all kinds of havoc going on at home. A couple of my female students already have children. For most of them, their lives are on probation before they even get a chance.”
Naomi heard the