Eternally Yours. Brenda Jackson
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it's past time for me to settle down.”
Syneda shook her head. “The reason I agree with you is because I understand completely. Falling in love isn't for everyone. I know it's definitely not for me.”
Clayton raised a brow. “Really? I thought most women dreamed of their wedding day.”
“Well, I'm not like most women. I have no intention of ever falling in love,” Syneda said matter-of-factly. She stared at him, eyes bright with curiosity. “What has held you back from ever getting serious with a woman?”
“Fear.”
“Fear? Fear of what?”
“Fear of becoming bored with the relationship. Because of my parents' rather close relationship, marriage to me means ‘forever after' and ‘till death do us part.' The thought of spending the rest of my life with the same woman is enough to give me nightmares. I'd be afraid of eventually becoming bored with her and feeling trapped. For Pete's sake, Syneda, forever after is a hell of a long time. Any kind of routine would drive me nuts.”
He then smiled. “I enjoy spontaneity, creativity and excitement. I don't want to be tied to a woman who would eventually have me settled into a dull life.”
He lifted his dark brow. “What about you? What's your hang-up about falling in love?”
Syneda took a long, deep breath before answering. She met his inquiring gaze. “As far as I'm concerned, falling in love means becoming dependent on that person for your happiness. I did that once and will never do it again.”
She stood. “I think I'll go unpack and turn in early. Our flight wore me out. What would you like to do tomorrow?”
Clayton set his glass on the table next to hers and also stood. “How about if we go on one of those sightseeing tours around town.”
“That sounds like fun. Well, good night, Clayton. I'll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Syneda.”
Clayton watched as she walked off through the living room and toward the bedroom she had chosen to use. He couldn't help wondering about the man who had evidently hurt Syneda to make her feel the way she felt about falling in love.
Leaning against the balcony Clayton took his first sip of morning coffee and then released a satisfied sigh. “Ahh, good stuff,” he commented as he looked out at the ocean to enjoy the early-morning sunrise. He had gotten up before dawn to make coffee, and had tried to be quiet while moving around in the kitchen. He hadn't wanted to awaken Syneda.
Rest, unwind a bit, have some fun and clear his overworked mind were the only things on his agenda this week. He turned and was about to go back inside when his gaze caught sight of a lone figure walking along the beach. The first thing he thought was that the woman, dressed in running shorts and a halter top, probably had the best body he'd ever seen. He couldn't make out her face because she was wearing a big straw hat and sunglasses, but he suspected any woman with a body like that had to have a terrific face to go along with it.
He stood transfixed, mesmerized, as she strolled along the beach apparently looking for seashells. A fragment of something teased at his consciousness. Had he met her before somewhere? There was something about her walk that was familiar to him for some reason.
He momentarily closed his eyes thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way he could ever have met this woman and not remember it. He reopened his eyes in time to watch her lean down to pick up a seashell and put it in the basket she was carrying. From his position high on the balcony, he could see the shorts she was wearing, which were already cut close to her hip bone, had ridden higher and showed a very good-looking backside.
Clayton drummed his fingers against the railing. Perspiration began forming on his forehead. For crying out loud, he was on vacation to unwind and just looking at the woman had him all wound up. He wiped his forehead thinking this wasn't good. Women were supposed to be off limits to him this week.
He was just about to leave when the woman turned and looked up in his direction and waved. He frowned, not understanding the friendly gesture. He had not known she had seen him watching her and had definitely not expected her to acknowledge it. Not knowing what else to do, he waved back.
Only after she'd taken off her sunglasses and removed the big straw hat from her head did he recognize her.
The woman was Syneda.
Clayton turned and whispered in Syneda's ear. “Our tour guide has the hots for you. He's been checking you out ever since we boarded this train.”
Syneda ungraciously shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth, followed by a big gulp of cola before responding. “You're imagining things.”
“No, I'm not. I know when a man is interested in a woman.”
Syneda giggled. “I guess you would, being an expert in womanizing and all.”
Clayton frowned. “It's not funny, Syneda.”
“Yes, it is. Men have been girl watching for ages. Will you stop being so uptight? What's wrong with you?”
Clayton took a deep breath. He was asking himself that same question. It had all begun that morning when he had seen her on the beach. Then later, things had gotten worse when they had decided to take an early-morning swim before breakfast. She had joined him by the pool wearing the sexiest bikini he had ever seen. He had always thought she had a great pair of legs, and the bathing suit only made how great they were more obvious. His mouth, along with every male's around poolside, had watered as they gazed at the sight of her delectable breasts swelling out of her bikini top and her well-rounded hips filling the bikini bottom. For one brief moment he'd experienced the oddest sensation—a heat flowing through his body and settling down toward his midsection. He had also felt something else, too: possessiveness. He hadn't liked the idea of the other men looking at her. Then he'd shaken off the feeling, but now it was coming back. And he knew at that moment, without a doubt, he was in serious trouble.
“Clayton?”
Unwilling to consider just what was happening to him, he took a deep breath and met Syneda's bemused gaze. “What?”
“I asked what's wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” he replied, placing a hand in the small of her back and leading her toward the nation's oldest jail. “By the way. Where's the rest of your outfit?”
Syneda took a quick look at herself. She was wearing a printed backless skort set. The sides were held together in a few places by snaps. A wide-brimmed straw hat whose band matched her outfit covered her head. “What's wrong with my outfit?”
Clayton raised his eyes heavenward. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra, and from the cut of the garment one would question if she was wearing underwear, as well. He was tempted to ask her but thought better of doing so. “There's not much to it.”
Syneda laughed as she eyed Clayton from under her hat. “That's the idea, Clayton. This is Florida. It gets too hot for a lot of clothes. The fewer the better.”
“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Clayton replied drily.
Syneda raised a brow. “Why?”
“I'm going to be spending all of my time keeping the men around here in line.”
The guide led them back to the sightseeing train and then on to the next stop. After touring the Fountain of Youth, Zorayda's Castle and the Lightner Museum, they caught another bus to have lunch in a popular restaurant in the Lincolnville Historical District.
Lincolnville constituted the heart of the city's black community. It was a large residential neighborhood whose occupants could trace their ancestors' origins to the city's sixteenth-century founding.
After lunch they took a carriage ride through the Colonial Historical District before doing some extensive walking while touring the old homes along George Street.
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