by Sonia Icilyn
“And how do you feel?” Dale asked, focusing on calming her.
“Stupid. Pathetic. Shortsighted,” Avril worded out. “I’ve let myself and my family down and…it hurts.”
“Listen.” Dale squeezed her fingers tighter. “You’re a young, beautiful woman who’s stumbled over a big rock. You fell, picked yourself up and you’re walking again. Isn’t that so?”
Avril shook her head, almost resenting his calm approach. “I don’t know.”
“You’re here with me,” Dale smiled warmly. Her vulnerability melted his heart. “In my house, eating my sister’s scones and talking.”
“I guess so,” Avril smiled in return. “I never talk about stuff like this. You know, the heart rendering, cut at the marrow sort of pain. Before you, the only person I could really talk to was….” Avril’s voice trailed. Her mind went blank because she couldn’t think of a name. But Dale did.
“Meyrick Armstrong,” he inserted sadly.
But to Avril’s ears, the name didn’t sound right. She flinched. It was an involuntary action that did not go unnoticed by Dale. “He talks a lot about animal rights,” she prevaricated wisely. She left the rest out about her feelings, that the need to love and be loved was central to her existence. “Rick’s a member of PETA, an activist group whose ethics are that animals should not be used for food, clothing, experimentation or entertainment. I enjoyed our conversations.”
“And his human rights?” Dale queried, draining the last of his tea from its cup.
“He supports those, too,” Avril muttered, not quite understanding the question. She looked into her empty tea cup, wondering if there were any leaves worthy of reading, even though she did not know how. If only she did, maybe she could find the reason why her insides had begun to coil and churn in Dale’s presence. “Are you okay about me talking frankly like this?”
“Sure,” Dale nodded, though he knew he was feeling tired. His body begged for sleep and his head was fatigued, but Dale did not want the evening to end. “Tell me,” he asked a moment later. “Who was that man at the club tonight?”
Avril’s gaze wandered, dazedly. “What man?” Then she remembered. “Donavan St Clair. He’s a model I used to work with.”
“Lennie briefly mentioned to me that you did some modeling,” Dale acknowledged. “He told me your mother thought it was a bad experience for you.”
“My mother thinks everything’s bad for me,” Avril relented sourly. She caught Dale’s expression and felt the deepest urge to explain. “I wanted to get away from her. Modeling was the answer. She’d divorced my father and I felt alone when he eventually remarried. It was something I sorted of stumbled into.”
“And where’s he now?” Dale queried.
“My father lives in Sheffield with his wife,” Avril answered, now feeling protective of revealing too much. “What’s your story?”
“Join me in the sitting room and I’ll tell you,” Dale invited. It was an impulsive attempt to assuage her mood.
Avril’s brows rose speculatively. “You’re not planning—”
“A seduction,” Dale interrupted on a quirk of laughter. “No,” he assured her. “Just conversation.”
Avril conceded and jumped from the stool. “I’m following on the strictest understanding that we are to talk about you.”
It was a done deal. The moment she walked into the vast sitting room, with its illuminating dimmed lights in the ceiling and the double windows that overlooked the street where Avril caught a night view across a part of Swiss Cottage, she didn’t want to leave.
The locals were quiet. The sitting room was peaceful and serene. Heat was provided by two radiators that produced the right temperature for the early hours. And the large brown leather sofas with imitation faux fur cushions scattered in shades of cream and camel-skin urged her to curl into a ball with her feet up.
“Where shall I begin?” Dale asked, curled up on another sofa facing her. “In my crib, kindergarten in London….”
Avril laughed. “Your formative years is a good starting point.”
“That would be when I made my first home run,” Dale recollected. “Aged nine in Central Park where we played a family game of baseball.”
Avril chuckled. For the first time, in weeks, she felt relaxed and at peace. “What did you do when you were older?”
“My family moved from New York to Florida and I stopped playing baseball and started playing with girls,” Dale responded cheekily.
“A typical male answer,” Avril giggled. “Are you going to tell me anything serious?”
“There’s nothing eventful about my life,” Dale replied, on a down note. “I left high school with exceptional grades. Received a scholarship to Yale, graduated, worked for several law firms in New York then came to England five years ago.”
“And socially?” Avril probed.
Dale shrugged. “I don’t have time for a social life,” he said evenly.
“You don’t date?” Avril asked, startled.
“Is that an offer?” Dale flirted in return. He watched her face flush with blood and adrenaline before he continued. “I took a junior post at Burke & Quibell, a firm of solicitors in London, then decided I wanted to spring some brothers out of jail, so I set up a law firm with my partner.”
“Your partner is working you very hard, isn’t he?” Avril said sensibly, though she was aware that her voice trembled slightly as she tried to camouflage her embarrassment at his earlier suggestion.
“She,” Dale corrected. “Philippa Fearne and I set up the law firm two years ago.”
So there is a woman in his life a warning voice sounded in Avril’s head. Her heart sank. “Is your law firm successful?”
“I should hope so,” Dale returned. “We’re hoping to move to a suite of sky-rise offices closer to central London in the New Year and take on more defense clients.”
“You’re a defense lawyer!” Avril marveled at his accomplishment. “What case are you working on right now?”
“A love rival’s wrath against his ex-lover,” Dale remarked astutely. “It’s alleged that my client hired someone to take out the man that his ex-girlfriend is currently dating.”
“No!” Avril gasped. “Is he—”
“The victim is alive,” Dale yawned, interrupting her. “But my client is facing a conspiracy to murder charge.”
Avril could see that Dale was getting tired and decided she should be thinking on going home. “It’s late,” she said, glancing at her watch. Her eyes widened when she saw just how late it was. “It’s three o’clock in the morning.”
“You can stay over,” Dale invited suddenly. “I have a spare room upstairs.”
“I can’t,” Avril declined. “I have a thousand and one things to do in the morning and there’s a dress I need to pick up from the dry cleaners for tomorrow night.” She rose to her feet, preparatory to leaving.
“Tomorrow night?” Dale asked as he rose from the sofa and led the way back toward the kitchen.
“I’m presenting prizes with Reuben Meyer at the Amateur Tennis Awards,” Avril declared with a hint of excitement. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too,” Dale appended.
Avril’s brows rose speculatively. “You’re going to be there?”
“I’m taking Elyse,” Dale told her as he pushed open the kitchen door. He reached down to the shoe rack and located her shoes. “She’s returning to Florida next week so I promised I’d take her somewhere special.”
Avril felt her heart skip several beats in anticipation. “Maybe I’ll see you there,” she said, while slipping into the shoes Dale handed over. She watched Dale slip into his own shoes, curious to know how he came to be invited to an event organized by Reuben Meyer. “Do you have any connections with the awards ceremony?”
“My law firm sponsored the main prize,” Dale revealed, reaching for his leather jacket from the coat hook at the back of the door. He was standing perilously close to Avril and she felt the m
agnetic force of him reach out and encase her body. “The winner, who has to be a qualified member of the African-Caribbean Amateur Tennis School, receives two tickets to the WTA Rogers Cup in Montreal where they’ll meet Serena and Venus Williams after the opening match.”
“I’ll be presenting that award,” Avril enthused with surprise. “It’s a great prize.” She inadvertently squeezed his fingers, then pulled away when she caught Dale’s reaction. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Dale whispered. He reached for her fingers. “You have soft hands.”
Her heart fluttered. She didn’t dare pull her fingers away. “Can I use your telephone to call a cab?”
Dale’s brows furrowed. “I’m driving you home, if that’s okay?”
Avril nodded, dumbfounded that all speech suddenly seemed to fail her. Dale dropped her fingers. “I’ll get my keys.”
“Dale!” His name leapt from her lips.
He hovered beside her. Their eyes met and locked in an embrace. “Yes?”
His voice sounded sweet and endearing with the adopted Florida accent mildly detectable. Avril felt her heartstrings stretch until they were taut. “Thanks for the ride and for listening.”
Dale smiled. His chocolate-brown eyes reeled her in like she was the cherry top for his fudge icing. The temptation was clear and irresistible. Dale needed to taste those thirsty lips that were begging to be kissed. In an instant, without realizing his intent, those very lips he desired were his.
Avril was suddenly robbed of breath. She couldn’t breathe. She did not want to breathe for fear of breaking the spell over her. The desperation with which their mouths ravaged each other was fierce and overpowering. This fierce masculinity was new. She had never sampled such veracity before. Dale caught her mouth in little bites and nibbles and she mastered each delicately ferocious nip with one of her own.
A silky caress brushed against her cheek before Dale pulled her tightly toward him. She felt the ruggedness of his jaw and knew he would have stubble by daybreak. Little tingles of excitement leapt through her as the roughness rubbed against the smoothness of her cheek. Dale had briefly abandoned her lips to gnaw seductively against each earlobe before he quickly reclaimed them in another heated kiss.
His actions were deft and determined. Keen and painstakingly erotic. Wild bursts of pleasure erupted inside Avril at every brush of his questioning tongue. Her fingers crept to his broad strong neck and the prominent muscles of his shoulders. She stroked the taut planes of his back that she could sense beneath the jacket he was wearing.
Their mouths were frenzied and urgent. There was something dangerously feral about the way Avril was playing a lip lock with this male paramour. Each gasp of pleasure that escaped her was quickly eaten up by Dale as though his very being required every morsel of her potent desire.
And she felt reluctant to resist. How could she when he had pulled her even closer and began an onslaught of caresses on her very senses with each brushing action of his lips?
Avril had quite forgotten where she was when there was suddenly a noise at the outside door.
“Dale?” a female voice invaded, seconds before the kitchen door was gently pushed open.
Elyse and a party of friends ventured in. “I’m sorry,” she apologized immediately. “I didn’t know you had company.”
Caught in the midst of kissing Avril, Dale was almost lost for words. “I…I’m getting ready to take Avril…Miss Vasconcelos home,” he gasped, unwilling to forsake the pleasure he had sought and received in abundance.
He parted inches from Avril when he saw the five intruding guests that made up the small entourage his sister had invited home. These were the same circle of friends she had met at Media Plus and whom Elyse had brought back for early morning cocktails, and light conversation.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Dale Lambert, my law abiding brother,” Elyse introduced to the animated crowd. She eyed Avril with a smile. “You’re welcome to join us.”
But Avril recognized a member of the group and had no wish to stay among them. “Dale’s offered to drive me home,” she said shyly, embarrassed at having been caught in his arms. “Maybe another time perhaps.”
“My brother’s law firm has a table at the Victoria Park Plaza Hotel for an awards dinner tomorrow night,” Elyse continued regardless. “Perhaps you can join us then?” She glanced around at her friends. “We’re all going to be there.”
“Yes, do come,” Delphine Collins immediately encouraged, with a twinkle dancing at the back of her eyes.
Avril tried to ignore the speculative gleam. “Actually, I’ll be presenting your brother’s award for the evening,” she told Elyse on a more formal note, behaving as nonchalant as she could. She eyeballed Delphine with serious intent. “Maybe you can remind the Armstrongs that I will be present.”
It sounded like a declaration of war. There was definitely some contrivance at work, at least that was what Avril told herself by the time she finally left Dale’s house and seated herself in the passenger seat of his car. The air was chilly, or maybe her body was still reacting from her torrid, nerve tingling kiss.
“Are you okay?” Dale asked, dubious at the shift in her mood.
Amazing, he thought, that Avril could seem so cool after the passion he’d evinced in her just moments before. But there was a slight swollenness of her unsmiling lips that doubtless matched his own. And Dale detected a bemused look in the depths of her nut-brown eyes that indicated some confusion.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she affirmed, swayed by the uncomfortable departure she had endured on leaving his home. “I didn’t expect Delphine Collins to be there. Do you know her?”
Dale shook his head and ignited the engine. “She’s Elyse’s friend.”
“Delphine’s also Meyrick Armstrong’s fiancée,” Avril added, “and was a guest at my wedding. She told me tonight that Maxwell has a son.”
Dale was clearly troubled at the news. After the wayward kiss he had just shared with Avril, any emergence of her recent past was not something he’d wished to overshadow their evening. “That shouldn’t bother you now,” he said. “What you had with Maxwell is over.”
“It may be over,” Avril agreed wilily, “but it’s not done yet.”
“So ‘it ain’t over ’til it’s over,’” Dale quoted.
Avril saw the look in his eyes and deliberately diverted the subject. “Isn’t that a Lenny Kravitz song?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like him?” she said.
But Dale wasn’t dissuaded. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“What?” Avril sighed. “Making that man pay for everything he’s put me through. Why not?” And she was going to use every subversion and chicanery possible.
Dale was clearly startled. “You’re still going ahead with it, aren’t you?”
“Some people just need to be taught a lesson the hard way,” Avril declared ruthlessly. “Any play on Meyrick is sure to hurt Maxwell and that’s what I want.”
He was silenced. Dale did not know what to think. Had he been asleep, he would have chalked this experience up as a bad dream. But he was not dreaming. Dale was wide awake, driving the one woman who had rocked his senses back to her home. Exactly where she lived was something he was yet to be told. Her brain had become reheated with an inward battle against the Armstrongs.
“Where am I taking you?” he blurted suddenly, annoyed that their kiss had not surfaced to the forefront of her mind. “Jail?”
Avril blinked. “What do you mean?”
Finally, he had her attention. “If you proceed any further,” Dale began curtly, “I can imagine your family posting bail and myself pleading your case to a judge for involuntary manslaughter when they find Maxwell Armstrong hung by his liver.”
Avril chuckled at the thought. “I live in Dulwich Village, at my mother’s house,” she said, mellowing her tone. “Woodhall Avenue.”
>
Dale immediately turned the car around and headed in another direction. The moment he did so, Avril realized her blooper. She had said too much and saw no avenue of escape. Her lapse in judgment was quickly made more apparent when she instantly recalled their interrupted kiss.
Her eyes squeezed shut for one second of stunned reality. She had shared an all-consuming, thunderous, awakening moment with Dale Lambert and relinquished it on a whim. “Dale,” Avril started, bravely. “About tonight.”
Inexplicably insulted that she did not share his yearnings, Dale frowned at her coquette face. “Forget tonight,” he quipped. Something fundamental had happened between them, but Dale did not care anymore. He stared forlornly at the dark road ahead and sighed with relief when Avril remained quiet.
“You’re here at last,” Antonio chimed, dressed in his pyjamas. He watched his sister close the door behind her and take the key out of the lock before he pressed on. “You were right. Elonwy called.”
His voice, high pitched, matched the expression on his face. It bellowed into Avril’s ears like a drum beat. Beneath the words ran a current of excitement. Antonio was like a teenager the night before his first date. He rubbed his hands with anticipatory gusto. The call had given him renewed hope.
“What did she say?” Avril asked wearily. She was all ears and full of expectations, wishing to be mired with all the boring details. Anything to remove the image of Dale Lambert from her mind.
“We’re meeting next week,” Antonio breathed, inebriated with delight. “The baby’s fine. Elonwy’s agreed to discuss our future.”
Avril headed directly toward the sitting room with her brother in full pursuit, reciting his plans. When the sofa caught her eyes, she flung herself down. Moments later, Avril took off her shoes and rubbed the sole of one foot listlessly. “What are you going to say?” she probed, squelching a yawn.
Antonio stared, not comprehending. “What do you mean?” He came within inches and hovered over her.
Avril rolled her jaded eyes at him. “You don’t want to be making any empty promises or idle threats,” she warned. “Elonwy needs to hear that you love her.”
