Rapture

by Sonia Icilyn

  “I’m speaking to him again tomorrow,” a female voice said in a mild tone. “But I don’t think he wants to get involved.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Dale’s voice murmured in response. Avril heard the shuffle of his bare feet against the kitchen floor, a clear sign he was walking around. “Maxwell nearly ruined Avril Vasconcelos’ life and now he refuses to take responsibility for his own child.”

  “I don’t know what else to say to him,” the female agreed. “There’s nothing more I can do to get his involvement with the baby.”

  Avril’s heart thudded. They were talking about her and Maxwell! But who was this woman and what was it any of her business to be discussing them in this way? With her thoughts racing, Avril pushed the door open.

  Dale caught her gaze within seconds. He was standing beside the toaster dressed in a pair of white and blue jogging pants with his bare upper body exposed. They exchanged fraught glances before Avril’s gaze slid over to the woman standing by his side.

  She was a youngish white woman with blonde hair above mascara-thick startled blue eyes. Her attractive face that was normally a lively shade of peachy pink was now blotchy red with embarrassment.

  Avril froze.

  “You must be Miss Avril Vasconcelos?” the blonde immediately announced, verging on politeness. She stepped forward and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Philippa Fearne, Dale’s business partner. I daresay he’s mentioned me.”

  “He has,” Avril nodded, carefully observing the greeting smile before she was pulled into a firm handshake. She also noted the pink J-Lo jogging suit, red lipstick and socked feet and glanced across at the shoe rack where a pair of pink sneakers had been neatly placed. It was clear Philippa had been to Dale’s house before. “What are you doing here?” Avril questioned before she could consider how rude she sounded.

  Dale answered the question for her. “Philippa and I was just catching up on stuff.”

  “I’ve just returned from—”

  “Vacation,” Avril finished with more than a hint of suspicion. Then came her second question. “How do you know Maxwell Armstrong?”

  “I’m sorry I—”

  “I heard you outside the door,” Avril cut in.

  Philippa glanced at Dale, slightly unnerved. “He was once a client of mine,” she answered. “I was just telling Dale about his latest…indiscretion.”

  “So you’re here to discuss my life,” Avril continued, annoyed that her untidy involvement in Maxwell’s existence had become fodder for conversation. “You don’t know me.”

  “Philippa came by to drop off some files and a bottle of rum she’d bought for me from her vacation,” Dale interceded, taking stock of the situation.

  “We visited a paradise island,” Philippa expanded. “It’s a beautiful place.”

  “We?” Avril repeated in disbelief.

  “My boyfriend and I,” Philippa answered. She saw Avril’s defiance. “I’d better be leaving,” Philippa said, quickly glancing at her watch. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow, Dale.”

  “Sure,” he smiled. He made for the shoe rack and handed Philippa her sneakers. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “That’s okay.” Philippa smiled before she sliced a glance at Avril. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Avril did not budge from the door where she chose to remain standing. Her rudeness became even more apparent as Dale and Philippa brushed past her. Dale walked his law partner to the front door and returned to the kitchen alone. In two seconds flat, he snared Avril by the wrist.

  “What was that all about?” he demanded.

  “You didn’t tell me your business partner was—”

  “Don’t!” Dale interrupted firmly. “That’s not an issue, not for me.”

  “It is for me,” Avril hollered, wrenching her wrist away. “And I didn’t mean it like that. What I’m annoyed about is why you were discussing my sorrowful little life with her.”

  Dale seemed confused. “What?”

  “I know nothing about her,” Avril whimpered, “yet you were both gossiping about me.”

  “We were not gossiping,” Dale insisted, pulling back his shoulders as though offended.

  “And what’s going on between her and Maxwell?” Avril probed further.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Dale stated firmly.

  Avril did not believe him. Dale’s chocolate-brown eyes were unreadable and she lowered her own, defeated. “I’m leaving.”

  “Avril, wait!” Dale protested.

  “For what?” she exclaimed.

  “Philippa’s a good lawyer,” he explained. “There are certain clients’ interests that she—we—need to protect.”

  “Like her own backside,” Avril opined.

  Dale pulled back a second time, clearly offended. “Maybe it’s best that you do leave.”

  Avril glared at him. Dale’s eyes were as cold and reserved as the charcoal-brown steely gaze she’d seen in Meyrick’s. She turned and ran all the way to the bedroom where she’d shared a night in Dale’s bed. Her black cocktail dress was waiting for her on the same chair from which she’d removed Dale’s shirt.

  That same white shirt felt suffocating as she tugged her way out of it. Avril threw it on the bed and heaved a sickly breath. Seconds later, she stole into her dress and began to force the zipper when Dale pushed the door open.

  Their eyes locked. Dale looked remorseful. His very expression pulled at one of Avril’s heartstrings until it was taut.

  “What’s gotten into you?” he asked, uncertain.

  She felt a flash of irritation. “Forget it,” Avril snapped while pulling on her zip.

  Dale gingerly entered the room until he was right beside her. “Here, let me.” The zipper up, he dropped a soft kiss against her exposed shoulder bone. “I haven’t told Philippa anything that should give you cause for concern.”

  The soft whisper of his voice and the gentle brush of his lips caused Avril’s legs to melt to the point that she began to inwardly struggle to remain standing. But her brain prevailed beyond the sensitive invasion. “Why are you protecting her?”

  “I’m not,” Dale promised, assaulting her with a line of kisses on the nape of her neck. He turned Avril in his arms until she was facing him. She looked so beautiful, he felt his chest rise and fall raggedly as he used the back of his hand to stroke away the long curls of hair obstructing her face. “You have to trust me.”

  Avril was wildly chagrined. “Trust you?” This was something she’d never done before, not with anyone. Not even her mother.

  “I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you,” Dale said on a soothing whisper. “But I have to respect Philippa’s confidentiality agreements with all her clients, whether she is still representing them or not.”

  Avril’s mutinous thoughts began to creep up on her. “You’re protecting me from Maxwell Armstrong aren’t you?” she queried on a note of enlightenment. “This has something to do with you being able to release me from paying costs for the wedding.”

  “I’m your lawyer,” Dale stated tersely. “Lennie hired me to legally represent you.”

  “But you didn’t charge him,” Avril disclosed. “He told me you didn’t want to be paid. Why?”

  “Because,” Dale paused for breath. I think I’m falling in love with you, he mused. “You’d gone through enough,” he said, swallowing heavily. “And, you needed someone on your side. A friend.”

  A friend! His admission rocked Avril to her core and she scolded herself for ever misjudging him. “Dale, I….” Words failed her.

  He smiled, kissing the top of her forehead. Then, as an answering molten feeling surged through him, Dale took her lips. He kissed Avril Vasconcelos like he’d never kissed any woman. It was ardent with desire. A grand passion. He was on the threshold of something special.

  His mouth moved with delving precision. His tongue crept in, sliced Avril’s lips then dissected each morsel with such fervent hunger that her mutinous
body betrayed her. Avril fastened on Dale’s lips and held on tight.

  But the subject of Maxwell lingered. The contrast could not be more complete. While he had always kissed her with a hint of detachment and reserve, Dale was in total abandonment. And Avril joined him in that slim moment of oblivion. Her emotions were swept into a whirlwind of lust when Dale abruptly released her lips.

  “I’m going to get dressed,” he said against her hot lips while fighting to resist the rise of his desire. “Then I’m taking you home.”

  But Philippa Fearne stayed on Avril’s mind on their journey into Dulwich Village. Though Dale had cheerily talked with her about their tastes in music, movies and books until they finally pulled into the drive of her mother’s estate, Avril could not shake off the question of his law partner. The woman whom he had once set his sights on before she’d met someone else.

  Her stomach was churning sickly when the car stopped and she looked at Dale. He was casually dressed in a pair of Rocawear jeans and a gray Sean John jersey with Timberland boots on his feet. The blue baseball cap crowning his head of locks made it hard for her to see the expression on his face. “You’re welcome to come in for coffee,” she invited willingly.

  Dale looked up at the closed curtained windows and realized that the household was still in bed. It was 10:30 a.m. and though the thought was tempting, he reasoned that he had much work to catch up on before he returned to his office on Monday.

  “Can you take a rain check?” he apologized.

  Avril was amazed at the sudden rise of nervous tension. “Okay,” she acknowledged calmly. She reached for the car door.

  “When will I see you?” Dale questioned suddenly.

  “See me?” His words almost did not register among the quandary that filled Avril’s mind. She blinked, bringing herself into focus. “That’s up to you.”

  “Tomorrow,” Dale suggested.

  “I can’t,” Avril wavered. “I start my new job and will probably be flat out by the time I get home.”

  “Tuesday then. We could go to this new place I know in the West End.”

  Avril couldn’t decide why she should suddenly feel apprehension. Perhaps it was the treacherous sprinkling of suspicion that was filtering around in her head. “I’m eating out with a friend.”

  His suspicions rose. “A friend?”

  “Kesse Foster, who was my maid of honor,” she reminded.

  “I’ll be busy for the rest of the week,” Dale responded, disliking any mention of that forsaken wedding.

  Avril considered. “There’s the weekend.”

  When she left the car on another sweltering kiss, they’d settled on Saturday night at her mother’s house for 8:30 p.m. for a night out at the Royal National Theater.

  She could not sleep.

  Avril fretted about her new job with Reuben Meyer, worried about Antonio not returning from his meeting with Elonwy to reveal the latest news. She even agonized over what she’d overheard Philippa Fearne to have said then replayed how she’d expertly dodged the pressing questions from her mother about her whereabouts the night before.

  Finally, she brooded tirelessly over the delicious memories of caresses, kisses and the feel of Dale’s teasing hand softly acquainting itself with each curve of her body. There had been no invading into the realm of what lay hidden beneath her underwear. His imaginative love play was enough, like manna from heaven and should have been the only thing on her mind. But it wasn’t.

  Oh her mind! It was grounded in beastly, indisputable reality. Her head ached at the recurrence, robbing her dreams of the delights Dale had yet to lavish on her. Instead, her thoughts were straying into all different avenues of life. At the vortex of everything was Dale Lambert.

  Amid the image of him, his hardened muscles, his persuasive masculinity and physical prowess that was seared with promises yet to come her way, was the picture of Philippa Fearne. It wasn’t jealousy. More a hunch.

  There was a puzzle here yet to be solved. The conundrum lived with Avril long into the night until she felt exhausted at the tossing and turning. Why could she not see the answer? Why did it now feel like Philippa Fearne was intricately involved in everything? And what exactly were Maxwell Armstrong’s earlier indiscretions? Avril could not see the point.

  It was dawn when the resounding truth suddenly came to light. The timely vacation. Philippa’s mention that she had spoken to Maxwell. Was it possible? Could it be possible? Had she just stumbled on the identity of the woman who had borne Maxwell Armstrong’s child?

  Avril opened her eyes, startled. The blackness around her did not hide the one fact that was a certainty in her tormented mind. Philippa Fearne was the person who had sent her the anonymous note on her wedding day.

  Chapter 10

  “Let’s come to order,” Dale Lambert announced on entering the conference room and getting down to business. “There’s a lot on the agenda today.” He sat down and adjusted his tie against the pristine white shirt under his charcoal-gray suit. His partner, Philippa Fearne and their three associates, were already seated awaiting his arrival. “Eddie, what’s pending?” he asked.

  “I’ve got the judge on the run with that sampling case,” Eddie Townsend, his senior associate informed him astutely. “I think I’ve successfully proven that Key 7 is not making money hand over fist by ripping off other people’s songs.”

  “They sampled the music from another group for christsake’s,” Dale drawled, annoyed.

  “Not the words,” Eddie corrected, weighing his boss’s mood and deciding he would remain calm and not antagonize him.

  “So what’s the problem?” Dale barked.

  “The original writers of the music, a group called Bay West, claims that their song has been tainted by the rap duo Key 7 who have set their own words to their music. Bay West are seeking damages for defamation.”

  “Can you close?” Philippa inquired, also aware that her partner was looking a little agitated.

  “I think so,” Eddie assured. “You see, words like ‘fo shezzy, fa shizzle,’ and ‘boo-ya, booyaka’ have no place in an English dictionary and are therefore open to a wide range of interpretation. Intent to denigrate or impugn the integrity of the original song goes to motive and there isn’t one the prosecution can prove.”

  “Then move the case along,” Dale ordered.

  “Personally,” Eddie said, “I think the judge will throw it out of court by end of business today.”

  “Good,” Dale accepted his answer. “Let’s move on. Loretha, how’s the alleged rape shaping up?”

  “The attack happened a week ago after the teenager was caught stealing and begged a store staff not to call the police,” Loretha Eidelman informed the team. “She only came forward four days ago. When I questioned her to attain a record of what happened, she told me that she feared deportation as an illegal immigrant and that’s why she didn’t come forward sooner.”

  “Her delay started a riot,” Dale bellowed, rubbing his forehead as though a headache was imminent. “A man was beaten near to death during the uprising.”

  “Dale,” Loretha cautioned. “She’s a confused teenager.”

  “What do we have in terms of forensic evidence?” he demanded.

  “The Asian-owned shop where the alleged rape took place has not reopened since the protests. Police have informed me that there is talk of a boycott. I’ve filed a warrant to gain access to the building for a full sweep.”

  “Great!” Dale exclaimed, cynically. “That’s all we need, disorder on our streets. We have to play this cool. I don’t want any statements given by this firm that could potentially heighten the current tension between the Asian and African-Caribbean communities.”

  “Understood,” Loretha accepted.

  Dale smiled briefly. “Keep me posted.” He turned to his third associate. “Toby?”

  “The jury reached a verdict Saturday night. I couldn’t reach you,” Toby Baker informed.

  “I was at the Amateur Tennis Award
s,” Dale inserted. “Continue.”

  “They found our client guilty of misconduct and mismanagement of funds and the pastor has been ordered to pay back two hundred thousand of the ‘benefits’ he received as a result of running the church.”

  “The church gave him as much as that?” Philippa breathed in amazement.

  “More,” Toby confirmed. “He’s also been ordered to pay costs in the amount of twenty-seven thousand. Our retainer and costs are included.”

  “And his position?” Dale asked.

  “Revoked,” Toby answered. “The church was also ordered to enlist the help of the Charity Commission to comply with charity law and to be made to understand that its practices—gospel or otherwise—need to be held accountable.”

  “There’s God and there’s money,” Dale proclaimed with sarcasm. “Man worships both.”

  Philippa leaned forward and touched Dale’s hand. Gently rubbing the back of it, she whispered, “Dale, are you all right?”

  “I took Elyse to the airport this morning,” he said. “She’s gone home.”

  “I see,” Philippa nodded and turned to the table. Her blue eyes lit up. “I have news.”

  Four faces looked at her. “Well, spit it out,” Loretha said impatient.

  “I’m getting married,” Philippa squealed, revealing her left hand. A single diamond solitaire sparkled at them.

  Loretha screamed happily.

  “Congratulations,” Dale said, offering her a kiss on the cheek. “So that’s what the vacation was all about. A proposal.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Philippa admitted, bursting with joy. “I thought he asked me to join him because he wanted us to get closer, but he proposed last night.”

  After handshakes, more kisses and a few tears, Dale closed his morning conference. “Philippa, can I see you in my office?” he said seconds later.