Private Lessons Read Free Page B

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!
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    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 thatchedroof 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.
    â€œHow many tonight, sir?”
    Brice blinked at the much-too-young-looking hostess. “Oh, uh, just one.”
    â€œSomeone will seat you in a moment,” she said with a musical lilt to her voice.
    â€œThank you.” He stepped to the side and let the couple behind him move up while he kept an eye on Naomi.
    â€œRight 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.
    â€œThanks. Yes. A rum punch.”
    â€œRight away.”
    Brice settled back against the rattan chair andsurreptitiously 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.
    â€œSee that young lady over there in the yellow?” He raised his chin in Naomi’s direction.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He went into his wallet, and took out a twenty-dollar bill. “That’s for you.”