Hot Summer

by Judy Powell

  As she flipped through the sparse little book she ran into the name of the man who had occupied her thoughts. She smiled as she thought about him then frowned as she saw the phone number beside his name. It was the number she’d been looking for.

  Her heart leapt. Lance had called. He hadn’t left a message but at least he hadn’t written her off. Maybe he was wanting her as much as she wanted him. Well, she would find out soon enough. She was going to put her plan into action.

  17

  “You look beautiful today.” Chantal looked her over as they stood at the water cooler together. “I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the color you’re wearing, but you just look so...vibrant.”

  “Why, thank you, Chantal.” Summer smiled. “I’ve never been called ‘vibrant’ before, but I like it.”

  “Make sure you get more outfits like this. Hot colors suit you. They bring out your warm tones.”

  Summer rolled her eyes but Chantal defended her position.

  “No, really. For someone with your skin tone the best colors for you are red, orange, hot pink, burgundy and even rich blues. But please, stay away from the pastels. Those will do nothing for you.”

  “Thanks, Chantal. I appreciate the advice.”

  “No problem. I like that kind of thing. In my next life I’ll probably be a designer or a fashion consultant to the stars.” She chuckled, as if acknowledging the futility of such thoughts.

  “But that would be great, Chantal. From the first day I met you I really admired the way you dress, wear your make-up, everything. You carry yourself like a queen.”

  Summer’s voice lowered, as if to share a secret. “To tell you the truth, I thought you were a model.”

  “A model?” Chantal laughed. “I’ve never been on a runway in my life.”

  “But you could be. You look better than lots of those models they’re going crazy about. But it’s not just that. You don’t just look good, you know how to make people look good.” Summer voice was sober. “Seriously, Chantal, if fashion is what you love I think you should go for it.”

  “But at my age…”

  “At your age? You talk like you’re over the hill or something.”

  “I’m thirty-one!”

  “So?” Summer challenged her.

  “So, I can’t start over again now. It’s too late.”

  Summer pulled Chantal over to the eating area and beckoned for her to sit down. She pulled up a chair beside her and began to speak earnestly. “Listen, Chantal, it’s never too late unless you decide it is. At my graduation one of my batch mates was eighty-five years old. Eighty-five! And she didn’t think it was too late. She said she’d spent all her life raising children, then taking care of grandchildren, but she’d always wanted to go to college. She decided she was going to fulfill her dream, and she did. And you know what?” Summer’s face broke into a smile. “At graduation she announced that she was going on to do her Master’s.”

  “You’re kidding!” Chantal looked incredulous.

  “Well, you’d better believe it because every word I said is true. Chantal,” Summer looked at her intently, “please don’t let your talent go to waste. I sincerely believe that everyone has even one special talent in life and if they don’t use it then they’ve cheated themselves and the world of something great.”

  “Well…maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I am. So you’re going to give this some serious thought?” Chantal nodded, but Summer pressed further. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” Chantal nodded emphatically.

  “Good. And I’ll be your first client.”

  They both laughed at that then got up and headed back to the main office.

  Back in her office Summer wrote her action list for the week as she always did on a Monday morning. Today, though, there was one very unusual item on the list – Execute Operation L.M. She giggled, feeling like a mischievous school girl. It was item number four on her list but she was ready – now. She picked up the phone and dialed Chantal’s extension.

  “Hey, Summer. What’s up?”

  “Chantal, could you put me on Lance’s agenda for today? I just need a few minutes.”

  “Sure. Just let me check his schedule…he’s free at four o’clock. Is that good for you?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Okay, you’re on.”

  “Thanks, Chantal.”

  That Monday seemed like the longest day in Summer’s life. She, who had always prided herself on being so disciplined and hard-working, did hardly anything that day. She just could not concentrate. She started reviewing an agency brief then threw it down in frustration. She’d read the same sentence seven times. She was just not focused.

  Nervous as she was, she was relieved when the clock slid round to four o’clock and it was time to execute her plan. Her heart pounded and her palms felt sweaty but she was not going to back out now. She picked up a notepad and pen and, trying to look calm and professional, headed down the hallway towards Lance’s office.

  He acknowledged her knock with the deep voice that never failed to send shivers down her body. She entered and closed the door behind her, then turned towards him. She was surprised when she saw that he was more casually dressed than she had ever seen him in the office. Today there was no business suit, only a pale blue shirt which was open at the collar. Somehow, seeing him in this less formal attire made her feel just a little bit more relaxed, more confident in what she was about to do.

  On his invitation she went and sat in the chair opposite him and rested her notepad on her knee. Lance sat back in his chair and twirled a silver pen in his long fingers. Summer thought he looked a little tired, but as handsome as ever.

  “So, what are we discussing today, Summer?”

  “I’d like to discuss…us.” Summer spoke quietly and clearly.

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise and leaned forward. “Us? That’s an interesting topic. What about ‘us’ are we going to discuss?”

  She faltered, her confidence slipping a bit, but then she thought of her mother’s words and she pressed on. “I’d…I’d like to invite you to dinner…if you’re not too busy this evening.”

  His lips curved into a smile and she could have sworn the look he gave her held some affection. “I’m not busy this evening. I would enjoy having dinner with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She rose to leave but he stopped her.

  “Wait. What time should I be ready?”

  Summer could have kicked herself. She’d been so nervous she had forgotten

  about that part. “I’d like us to go at seven. Aah…could I ask you a favour?”

  “Sure. What is it?” He almost sounded eager.

  “I don’t have a car yet. Do you mind picking me up at my apartment?” Summer felt a twinge of embarrassment but it had to be said.

  “No problem.” He nodded. “I’ll be there at seven.”

  When Lance rang the buzzer at seven o’clock she opened up to him wearing a sleek black dress with spaghetti straps. She knew it accentuated the fullness of her breasts and the curve of her hips so she was not surprised when his eyes widened appreciatively.

  “Come in, Lance.” She smiled what she hoped was a seductive smile as she ushered him into the tiny living room. “I’ll be ready in just a second. I just need to get my purse.”

  As she walked towards the bedroom she could feel his eyes on her back and knew, without a doubt, that his eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips. She was wearing high heels for exactly that effect.

  As they walked to the elevator Lance rested a hand at her elbow in a protective manner. She could smell the fresh scent of his cologne and felt the latent power in his grip. It made her heart race and her knees weak and she was glad he was supporting her. The sheer masculinity of him was wreaking havoc on her senses and she knew she wanted him more than ever. If there had been any doubt in her mind before, she knew now there was no turning back.

  They arrived at the Peki
ng Restaurant at twenty minutes after the hour and were ushered to the table which was reserved for them. It was in a quiet corner of the restaurant by a huge aquarium full of brightly colored tropical fish.

  After they had placed their order Summer gave Lance her most seductive smile and said, “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I hope I didn’t mess up any of your plans?”

  “Not at all. I’m glad you invited me.”

  “And I’m glad you could make it.” She smiled again, feeling a surge of pleasure as his eyes roamed over her face.

  She knew she was beautiful tonight. Before leaving the office she had asked Chantal for some make-up tips and had followed her advice to the letter. When she was done she was shocked at the dramatic transformation. Her eyes looked bigger and brighter and her lips seemed fuller. She couldn’t remember ever looking this beautiful.

  “Lance,” she caught his gaze with an intense look of her own, “I know you must be wondering why I asked you out.”

  “The question did come to mind, “he nodded slowly, still watching her intently.

  “Well, I wanted a chance to get to know you better. We’ve worked together for almost two months so I think I know your professional side. Now I’d like to get to know the personal side of you.” Summer saw the surprise that leapt into his eyes. For a fleeting moment she enjoyed his confusion. It felt great having the upper hand, just this once.

  “I see,” was all he said and she smiled inwardly as she realized that, at least for the moment, he was speechless.

  She pressed on. “Lance, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that…that I’m attracted to you. In fact, you’re the only man who has ever made me feel…I mean…” she paused, trying to gather her courage about her, “…feel the way you make me feel,” she finished lamely and her face grew hot with the embarrassment.

  She had planned her speech so well and here she’d gone and made a fool of herself. She inhaled then tried to salvage what was left of her pride. “I mean…”

  Lance leaned forward and rested his hand on hers. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way, too. I’m glad you had the courage to let me know how you feel.”

  She was grateful that he had rescued her from herself. She didn’t know what else she had been about to say but at least she’d been spared. And now she knew for sure that he was attracted to her, too. She smiled softly, “Me, too.”

  “Summer, I’ve felt something for you ever since that first night we met.”

  “In the restaurant?” she asked, surprised. “But you hardly knew me.”

  “It didn’t matter. I knew there was something special about you. That’s why I came back alone. I wanted a chance to talk to you.”

  “Really?” Summer was pleasantly surprised. “But I thought you were laughing at me.”

  “Not at all. In fact, I admired your spunk. There aren’t many women who can stand up to someone like Monisha.”

  “But I did,” she said, glowing in his praise.

  “Yes, you did. And I admired that.”

  Lance looked at her intently and she lowered her gaze, suddenly shy again.

  “So how’s your thesis coming along?”

  She looked up at him, grateful for the neutral subject. “It was going slowly at first but now I’m really on a roll,” she said. “I’m past the halfway mark, actually.”

  “That’s great. And what, exactly, is it about?”

  “It’s entitled, ‘The impact of Music on Teenage Communication’. I’m using my new knowledge of the music industry to form the basis of the thesis.”

  “Sounds deep.” He nodded, seemingly genuinely interested.

  “Well, I’m trying to make it a paper with substance,” she said, encouraged by his interest. “You know sometimes people do studies on subjects that make no contribution to learning or don’t even make sense at all. Do you know I read a thesis that was actually about the number of times the word ‘river’ appears in the works of Mark Twain? Can you believe that?”

  “No, I can’t,” he laughed. “What the heck did that researcher find to say about that?”

  “Not much, if you ask me. Just a couple of hundred pages of ‘blah’.”

  At that moment their food arrived. Summer had ordered her favorite Chinese dish – roast chicken in pineapple sauce. Lance had gone for the chow mein with sweet and sour chicken.

  “Bon apetit,” she said and popped a piece of the succulent meat into her mouth. She ate a few bites then looked across at Lance who was digging into his own meal.

  “Lance, I’m curious.”

  “About what?”

  “About you. The real you. I want to know what’s behind that exterior you show the world.”

  “Well, I always thought I was pretty straightforward.” He smiled.

  “That’s not what I mean. All of us have another side to us that’s only reserved for the special people in our lives.” She laid down her fork. “For instance, I’d love to know what it was like for you, growing up on an island.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. It was probably the best time of my life. But then, childhood is probably the best time in most people’s lives, anyway.”

  When she remained silent he continued. “Until I was thirteen I lived in a little town called Port Maria which is by the sea. I used to get into all kinds of trouble with my friends. In the summertime I’d sneak off with them to the river or spend all day on the beach. It used to drive my mother crazy. She was always scared I’d drown.”

  “You were a bad little boy.” She chuckled. “I can just imagine how you were.”

  “Let’s just say, I was a typical boy. I did the things the boys did there – I’d go into the hills with my friends and shoot birds with my slingshot. Then we’d stay up there in the bushes and roast and eat them.”

  “Eew.” Summer made a face.

  “They were only birds, just like you’re eating right now.”

  “I know, but it just seems different.”

  “You buy yours in the supermarket, I shoot mine in the wild.” He shrugged. “I grew up poor, by American standards. My Mom couldn’t buy me lots of toys but in Jamaica, you learn to make your own. We made bows and arrows out of the spines of palm leaves. We made cricket bats from coconut boughs and cars from empty milk cartons. They had bottle caps for wheels.”

  He laughed as he reminisced. “Looking back I can say that my childhood was a lot of fun. I wouldn’t change it for anything. But, enough about me. What about your childhood? I’d like to know some more about you, too.”

  “I had an okay childhood, I guess,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “You guess?”

  “Well, it was great when I was very young. I didn’t have a lot of friends but I had my books. My summertime was spent mostly at the library. I’d spend hours reading. I devoured books. So I was happy. It was after that….well, let’s just say, things got really bad.”

  “What happened?” His concern was evident.

  “My dad started drinking and then things got really crazy after that. When I was nine he moved out of the house but then he came back about six months later and that’s when things went downhill. He became very aggressive and abusive to my mom.”

  Her voice grew softer as she spoke. “He would hurt her really bad and I’d beg him to stop. Afterwards he would cry and promise never to do it again.” She felt the anger rising in her as she spoke. “But then he’d do it again, and again. I wanted to kill him.”

  Lance squeezed her hand in his warm one but remained silent, looking concerned, but not interrupting.

  “I hated him so much. I was glad when he died. My mother cried but I could only feel relief. She loved him so much even after what he’d done to her. When I saw that I decided there and then that I would never love any man that much. I was scared of getting hurt, like my mother.”

  “Summer,” Lance said, finally broke his silence, “all I can say is, I’m sorry. You had a rough time, baby, but I hope I can help you regain your trus
t in men. I’ll be there for you, honey. You can trust me on that.”

  Summer felt teary-eyed as she smiled into his eyes. The tears were not for her father, but for what he’d just said. At this moment she felt that she loved him so much. It made her feel vulnerable and she was scared. She said not a word but simply accepted the kiss he gave her on the forehead.

  It was a little after nine o’clock when they left the restaurant. They talked very little as Lance drove back to her apartment, each lost in thought, enjoying a comfortable silence in each other’s company.

  When they pulled into the parking lot Lance leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Are you alright?” he whispered.

  “I’m fine,” she smiled. “Why don’t you come up for a drink?”

  “Sure you’re not too tired?”

  “I’m sure.”

  They rode the elevator to her floor but this time she felt so much closer to him, as if they had known each other for years. She felt that, in opening up to him, he had shared the experience with her. Outside of her mother she had never expressed her feelings to anyone, but now he knew that side of her and she knew another side of him.

  When they had entered the apartment she directed him to the sofa then headed for the kitchen. She brought back two glasses and handed him one, an apology on her lips. “Sorry I don’t have anything stronger – it’s only wine cooler.”

  “That’s fine.” He took it and sipped slowly, not taking his eyes off her.

  She suddenly felt nervous all over again and said. “Let me just get rid of these high heels. I‘ll be right back.”

  She escaped to the bedroom and returned a minute later, her feet bare. She padded over to where he stood, his back to her. He was looking at her CD rack but as she approached he turned toward her.

  “You’ve got some good music here.” He pointed to a Chris Botty CD. “You seem to be a big jazz fan.”

  “I love all kinds of music.” She pulled a CD from the rack. “Want to hear some Brian McKnight?”