Rapture

by Sonia Icilyn

  “Mr. Lambert will be with you shortly,” she was told.

  “I know the drill,” Avril answered, placing her taupe-colored handbag on her lap. She crossed one knee over the other and began the wait.

  She hadn’t noticed before, but the outer office was quite small. Only four brown leather chairs were lined against the cream-colored walls where two small pictures of sea urchins hung on display. An Indian rug over the polished wooden floor seemed the only item that had any real vibrant color.

  But the assistant’s workstation was well equipped with the latest technology. Avril’s gaze bounced from the wide-screen laptop to a laser printer, fax machine and switchboard console. An open window admitted the sounds from the street below. She could hear moving traffic, the patter of feet and pigeons pecking to each other on the roof top.

  In the distance, the sound of a jet engine indicated an airplane was flying overhead.

  Suddenly Dale Lambert’s office door shot open and she was invited in. His striking features stunned her instantly, but he looked tired and yawned on her approach. Avril was not prepared for the dark lines she caught under Dale’s eyes. Equally, she imagined he would be at a loss as to why she was not immaculately dressed as she had been on her first visit.

  “Good morning,” he greeted. He sucked in his stomach and beckoned her toward the seat opposite his desk.

  Avril gingerly deposited herself and clutched at her handbag. “Hello,” she answered meekly, noting the reemergence of his pouch as he took the chair opposite. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Did you manage to solve anything?”

  She could hardly imagine that any headway had been made, given that Maxwell was conveniently on vacation, but Avril was quick to detect the slim smile that marked Dale Lambert’s strong features.

  “I’ve resolved the situation for you,” he began, while flicking through the three sheets of paper in a file on his desktop. “I spoke at length with Mrs. Lynfa Armstrong and—”

  “Maxwell’s mother!” Avril gasped.

  “And his father,” Dale Lambert appended. “They were both amenable to taking my advice once I explained the difficulty the entire family would face should Maxwell continue his attempt to extract the cost of the wedding from you. In agreement, they have decided to drop Maxwell’s claim. You owe the Armstrongs nothing.”

  Avril’s mouth fell open. “There’s no contention?”

  “None,” Dale confirmed.

  Kesse was right. This man had worked his magic. “What…what did you do?” she forced out after a moment.

  “Let’s just say Maxwell had certain infractions against his name that needed consideration,” Dale explained with a hint of controversy.

  “So it’s over?” she probed. “I don’t have to pay for the weeding and Tony gets his job back?”

  “Tell your brother he can return to work tomorrow,” Dale concluded, closing his file.

  A smile leapt to Avril’s face. She was so relieved, she jumped from her chair and threw her arms across the desk and around Dale Lambert’s neck. Without thinking, she planted an exuberant kiss against his lips. The contact was brief and impulsive, but enough to kindle a spark that Dale had never felt before. “How can I thank you?” she asked.

  Dale’s lips quivered and parted, uncertain. “Join me for coffee,” he suggested, equally as impulsive. He tried to think back to the last time he’d been made such an alluring offer. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed the company of a young woman or experienced such a loaded kiss.”

  “Hey, not so young,” Avril chuckled, suddenly embarrassed by her action and ignoring the tingling resonance that ran along her spine. “I’ll have you know that I’ll be twenty-five in December.”

  Dale rose nervously from his chair and fixed the gray tie beneath his white shirt collar. “In that case, Miss Vasconcelos, we’d better make it an early lunch,” he amended. Their gazes meshed and held. Dale suddenly felt like he’d lost some of his strength, but quickly girded himself. “Coffee would hardly do for a woman who’s nearly twenty-five.”

  “I’d like that,” Avril accepted, swiftly making a decision about that American accent. It was definitely adopted from Florida, fitting Lennie’s description of Dale.

  As she took to her feet, Dale quickly threw on the jacket that hung idly around the back of his chair. He picked up some keys from his desktop and adjusted his expensive cufflinks. “Ready?” he prompted.

  Avril caught a brief flash of reaction—a passionate longing that was quickly brought under control. “I’m ready,” she answered on a rapid breath.

  Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a small restaurant that was located within walking distance of his office.

  Avril opened the discussion seconds after they’d placed their food order. “So, these infractions?” she began suspiciously.

  “Which I can’t discuss for legal reasons,” Dale inserted on a tentative smile.

  “Are they serious?”

  “For someone else,” he answered discreetly, “and which doesn’t involve you.”

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Avril recognized immediately.

  Dale shook his head in the negative. “No.”

  They chuckled in a manner that was belied with a sense of teasing.

  The food arrived. Fresh Caesar salad with tuna steak and French fries. With appetites piqued, they dug into their food. Two bites later, Dale had a question of his own.

  “What do you intend to do with yourself now?”

  “Me?” Avril was at a loss. A plan was still not within easy reach of her mind and she had not yet found the time, nor the inclination, to talk with the Chairman of the Cultural Development Committee. Her shoulders rocked with despair. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not good,” Dale said, as he swallowed his food and made a sweeping note of her girlish features. “Didn’t you tell me that you were crowned Miss African-Caribbean this year?”

  “Yes,” she nodded.

  “Shouldn’t you be doing something constructive with that title?” he pried, moving aside an unruly twisted lock from his forehead.

  Avril chewed on a lettuce leaf. “Like what?”

  “Help the aged, volunteer to represent a charity, use your celebrity to publicize an area of society that’s in neglect,” Dale advised. “I would have thought you’d be cutting into the red ribbon to open up a youth center or something equally useful to the black community.”

  “I suppose,” she shrugged.

  “You suppose!” The simple remark seemed to rub against Dale’s nerve endings in the wrong way. “This is what I dislike about beauty pageants.” He launched into a tirade. “It’s a line of pretty faces contesting with each other with neither woman having anything in their heads to support a worthy cause. You have many options,” he continued. “I can’t imagine marriage was ever one of them.”

  Avril suddenly felt shallow and weak. “I didn’t think it through,” she said, shamefully.

  “Obviously not,” Dale affirmed, as he swallowed a mouthful of tuna.

  Avril disliked the hint of menace in his tone. She watched Dale spear another piece of tuna and filled his mouth. “I know what you’re thinking,” she challenged suddenly.

  Dale carefully charted her face. Pondering her remark, he laid his knife and fork down against his plate and contemplated more closely her fragile-boned features. A knowing quirk was evident on his lips. “What am I thinking?”

  Avril felt cornered. “You’re thinking that I had ambitions of living a luxury riverside lifestyle as Mrs. Armstrong, wife to the heir of a fortune.”

  Dale was curious. “And how did you come to be comfortably on your way there?”

  “Like I said,” Avril repeated, while toying with the salad on her plate. “I didn’t think it through. Maxwell proposed and I accepted.”

  “Is it your consensus to accept the proposition of every man who happens to propose to you?” Dale prompted.

  Her chin lifted and
her expression became defiant. “I wouldn’t accept if you’d asked me,” Avril stated on the defensive.

  “And I don’t intend to,” Dale rebutted, retrieving his knife and fork. “I’d like to know and feel that the woman accepting any proposal I one day hope to make would actually be in love with me. In your case, you didn’t love Maxwell.”

  Avril lowered her head on hearing the truth. “No, I didn’t,” she whispered. “I wanted—”

  Dale instinctively leant forward and caught the failing sound of her voice. “Who?”

  Avril blinked and looked right at him, awed by his keen perception. “Nobody.”

  But Dale was not fooled. He threw her a lingering look. “C’mon,” he prompted sweetly. “Scout’s oath I’ll never repeat it.”

  Her face softened. “Were you in the scouts?” Avril asked.

  Dale nodded, meeting her tender nut-brown eyes. “You can tell me. I’m your lawyer.”

  Their eyes held. “His brother,” Avril finally disclosed.

  “That would be Mattias?” Dale asked. “He’s more your age.”

  “No, it’s the middle brother,” Avril clarified, picking at her French fries and dipping each one in tomato ketchup. “The one a little older than Mattias.”

  His heart leapt, taking Dale by surprise. “Him?” Dale was clearly shocked.

  “What’s the matter with Meyrick?” Avril asked, wounded at the shrill of Dale’s voice.

  “He’s engaged to be married, isn’t he?” Dale finished.

  “I do know that,” Avril acknowledged, swallowing. “I’ve done nothing inappropriate and I’m not ashamed about the way I felt about him. He was a friend and I’m a woman. One day these feelings will wear off.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry,” Dale backed down and picked his way through more food. “I’ve touched a nerve, huh?”

  “A trifle,” Avril said. She took another dip of ketchup.

  “Well,” Dale summarized. “There’s no Maxwell in your life and no Meyrick. What about their younger brother, Mattias?”

  Avril burst into laughter at the joke. “He’s a boy of twenty-one,” she giggled. “I need a man’s touch.”

  “A man!” Dale smiled wryly, as he munched on his French fries. “Hmm.”

  “Don’t.” Her broad nose wrinkled. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  “I’m blushing,” Dale joked, liking the sound of her soft suggestive tone lulling all his senses into a void of peace.

  “You…blush?” Avril was not convinced, even though she caught sight of his perfect white teeth. She chewed on more fries laced with ketchup before adding, “You strike me as the kind of man who’ll have no problems juggling a handful of girls.”

  “Women,” Dale corrected, returning his knife and fork to his empty plate. “And not just any woman. One with a special something would have to stand out from the bunch.”

  “Really?” Avril considered the serious intent on his face. She was quickly aware of the little bursts of pleasure that knotted and twisted themselves inside her. “Good luck in your search.”

  “Thank you.” Dale looked at his expensive watch. Thirty minutes had elapsed. “It’s time for my meeting with a client.” He rose from his chair, already feeling the acid discomfort that always attacked him after meals. It was a symptom of the stress he was under. “I’m on work overload right now.”

  “Yes, you said your associate—”

  “Partner,” he corrected, “is away.”

  Avril remained seated while Dale towered over her. “How many partners do you have in the firm?” she questioned, curious at his liquefied gaze.

  “One,” Dale replied. “And three associates.” He glanced at his watch again. “We’ve been sharing the work, but realistically, it’s time I started to slow down which is hard when there’s a court trial in progress.”

  Avril could see that he was in a hurry, but she had not yet finished her food. She had little choice but to remain at the table. “Thanks for the lunch,” she smiled, detecting the sudden shift in his mood. “And for closing my case.”

  “My pleasure,” Dale returned. With a grateful smile, he leant forward. “You have ketchup on your lip.”

  His hand lifted before he could stop it. Mesmerized, Avril watched as Dale’s finger came her way. The closeness of him made her head whirl. His finger hovered slightly and his gaze intensified as he traced the path of tomato ketchup up her chin and across to her generous pink lips.

  Avril’s breath came up short and quick as he popped the finger into his mouth and greedily sucked on it like an infant’s pacifier. She felt extraordinarily helpless at the attention, even more helpless at the burst of sensation that rippled throughout her body.

  “Delicious,” Dale remarked. His hot melting chocolate gaze met her startled eyes. A jerk of lust made his loins ache. “I have to go,” he drawled on a hoarse breath. “Tell Lennie I’ll be in touch.”

  Disappointed, Avril hardly heard her voice. “I will.”

  “Take care,” he returned.

  “You, too,” she answered, as he quickly made his way toward the door. Avril felt parched at the back of her throat and raised her voice to carry weight. “Try not to work too hard.”

  But the restaurant door had closed, cutting off her final farewell.

  Chapter 5

  Her feelings had become muddled. They needed sorting out. Throughout the night, Avril’s emotions had moved from Maxwell, to Meyrick and now rested heavily on Dale Lambert. It was odd. What was the matter with her?

  Her head was in a spin as she showered that morning. Avril desperately tried to settle so that she could make sense of everything that had happened, but it was a difficult task when there was still a maze of questions on her mind.

  Dale Lambert had been too accommodating. Too efficient. Why? She debated this while she rubbed suds of soap into her skin. He was so damn sexy that she also wondered if there was a woman in his life.

  Kesse had told her he was nicknamed the “Wolf.” There was not a glitch he could not handle. Was he this efficient with women, too? Somehow, he had maneuvered the situation so that she did not owe Maxwell Armstrong one darn penny. How was such a thing done?

  And before she knew it, they were at lunch. The whole matter had left her unhinged. At least her mother was pleased. Bertha celebrated with a vodka and tonic and she pictured Antonio gallantly shaking Lennie’s hand. She washed them all from her mind under the needle spray of water and stepped from her shower cubicle.

  Avril toweled her body and decided to call Kesse. With bare feet, she padded from her bathroom and seated herself on the edge of her bed. She picked up her cell phone, dialed while removing the plastic shower cap from her head and waited to hear Kesse’s voice.

  “Hello?”

  A man answered. He sounded familiar.

  “Who’s this?” Avril asked at once. He did not answer. “I’d like to talk to Kesse, is she there?”

  A moment’s silence and her best friend was on the phone. “Avril, it’s me.”

  Avril smiled happily. “Who’s the guy?”

  “Rakeem,” Kesse answered, sounding distracted.

  “I thought he was away on business?” Avril probed.

  “He didn’t go,” Kesse answered. “I’m at his apartment. Are you okay?”

  “Dale Lambert sorted everything, just like you said,” Avril began in explanation. “But….” And she hesitated. “I want to know how he pulled it off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Avril tried to hazard a guess. “He spoke with Lynfa and Georgie.”

  “Dale Lambert’s probably found something on Maxwell Armstrong,” Kesse said with a hint of conspiratorial relish, a habit of hers.

  Avril felt panicked. “Like what?”

  “A bribe, blackmail, who knows,” Kesse answered. “Georgie Armstrong doesn’t let anything go that easily.”

  Avril considered the possibilities. “I wonder what it is.”

  “Maybe
it’s for the best that you don’t know,” Kesse told her.

  But Avril’s mind mushroomed. “I’m going to see Georgie and tell him about Maxwell’s baby.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Kesse returned on a concerned note. “Your brother got his job back, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then put this to bed,” Kesse advised, sternly. “Don’t stir up anything.”

  Avril heard whispers. “Kesse?” A moment of silence followed. “Kesse, are you still there.” She stared at her cell phone.

  “I’m here,” Kesse replied. “Rakeem’s leaving. He’s on his way to work.”

  “I’m interrupting, I’d better go,” Avril apologized immediately.

  “Wait!” Kesse pounced.

  Avril heard the shard of anxiety in Kesse’s voice. And then there were more whispers. “Kesse, are you okay?”

  “I was just asking Rakeem if it’s okay that you tag along with us tomorrow night,” Kesse suggested suddenly.

  “I don’t know,” Avril answered, uncertain. “Maybe—”

  “You don’t want to be home burying your sorrows the day Maxwell returns from vacation,” Kesse sympathized. “We can go in Rakeem’s car.”

  “Where to?” Avril probed.

  “Bora Bora, Pacha, Annabel’s or we can hang out on the roof terrace at Space,” Kesse said excited. “All the celebrities go there.”

  Avril considered. “Rakeem wouldn’t mind?”

  “No,” Kesse exclaimed. “And you don’t even have to drive.”

  “I…” Avril paused. A part of her longed to re-enter the social scene of worldly people, but unsure, she inhaled a slight pang of nerves. The lingering effects of her expunged wedding were still with her. “I don’t think I’m ready. I’m seeing Reuben Meyer today about a job and have to find an apartment by fall, so—”

  “Of course you’re ready,” Kesse encouraged. “We’ll call for you around 9:30 p.m.”

  Avril panicked. “That early?”

  “You’ll be fine,” Kesse returned. “Wear your best face and your best dress. See you tomorrow night.”

  The call ended and Avril paused for thought. Her most prized dress should have been her wedding gown. Subconsciously, she turned toward her wardrobe. Tucked beneath racks of clothing was the huge cream-colored box containing her gown.