T he March evening couldn’t have been any more perfect. Or romantic. Angel took a bite of lobster, then glanced at Cyril. From their table by the window at the superb beachside restaurant, they had a perfect view of the ocean. And the food was nearly indescribable. That was saying a lot from someone who’d studied cooking in France.
Cyril had presented her with a bracelet corsage when he’d picked her up. It was made of lavender and could’ve come straight from Paris, it was so French looking.
On the drive to the beach, they had enjoyed a pleasant camaraderie. But something scintillating yet sweet had swathed around them like gossamer.
Now, sitting in the restaurant, she felt a draft of cool air from the air-conditioning vent and pulled her black net shawl around her shoulders. In her movement, their knees touched under the table, and thoughts of love filled her heart.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Cyril squeezed a wedge of lime into his ice water, then placed his hand over hers on the table.
“I…um…”
“You? Angel Morgan at a loss for words? That kicks in a memory for me. The cat got your tongue the first time we met.”
She nodded. “I wanted to meet business owners dressed like a businesswoman. Instead—”
“You were covered in paint—”
“I felt so stupid, I forgot my manners—”
“And I was pretty smug-acting, wasn’t I?”
“You could say that. In fact, that night I secretly started calling you Mr. Hooty-Toot.”
“You didn’t?” He looked playfully thunderstruck.
She nodded, exaggeratedly so. “After I looked up the meaning of your name, I decided Mr. Hooty-Toot was apropos.”
“Why? What’s it mean?”
“Lord. You were acting so…lordly.”
He chuckled. “What does your name mean? I’m sure it means angelic being. But anything else?”
“Messenger.”
He swung his head from side to side, like he was deep in thought. “Couldn’t be more appropriate. Angel, you’re my messenger of love.”
Angel wondered where Cyril was going as he passed the turn to the highway that led back to Nine Cloud. Then she knew. He was taking her to the beach house where they ate her pie on their first date.
He turned onto a narrow private road, then pulled into the driveway. His headlights showed a refurbished house, the dull weathered boards now painted a crisp sandy beige, the professional landscaping beachy and inviting.
“What happened here?” She was delighted with the changes. When she’d first seen the house, she thought it would make a perfect beach hideaway if only someone would give it some TLC.
“We decided to remodel it when we were making the changes to Nine Cloud.”
“It’s beautiful, Cyril.”
“We knocked down some walls and added a big room on the back. The ocean view is fantastic.”
“Can I see the inside?”
“Sure. Come on.” In a flash, he was at her door, opening it. “But it’s not furnished. Or decorated. That comes next.”
At the front door of the house, he stepped inside, found the lights, and flicked them on. “Come on in.” He held the door open for her.
She walked into a large room that was big enough for several conversation areas. “This is going to be beautiful when it’s all done.”
He pointed to a far wall. “That’s where the kitchen will be, as soon the cabinetry and countertops are chosen.” He pointed to another area. “That’ll be the dining room.” He walked across the large room and stopped. “This is the addition.” He pointed upward, then continued on toward the wall of windows. “Come look out.”
She walked over and stood by him in the addition that couldn’t be detected as such. It blended in perfectly with the rest of the house. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she saw the ocean that looked like black glass in the moonlight. The sight took her breath away.
“We’ll probably have several tables and chairs in this area. We’ll use it for casual eating and playing table games, things like that.”
She looked around the room. In her mind’s eye, she could see a limestone or buffed-marble floor. And beach-type furniture—rattan, maybe, or wicker. And paintings that captured the ocean’s beauty. And—
“Care to walk on the beach?”
Her heart did one of its familiar trills. “I–I’d love to.”
He unlocked the glass door and slid it aside. “After you.”
She stepped out onto an expansive patio, and he followed her out. She looked up into the most spectacular sky she’d ever seen.
“You sure aren’t saying much tonight.” He whispered the words into her hair from where he stood behind her. “Cat got your tongue again?”
Calm down, my heart. “I—I…” She started again. “The beauty of this place…the ocean…”
“I remember the night you said the ocean made you hug me.” His voice was husky as he gently turned her to face him. “You said it had something to do with the moon shining down…”
She glanced skyward and saw a full moon.
“…and the way the waves lapped….”
She heard the ocean behind her, a sound that echoed the beating of her heart.
“Come with me.” He took her hand and led her across the patio. “Better take off your shoes.”
Shivers danced up her spine, and there wasn’t even a slight wind. She knew where they were coming from. Cyril and his nearness. She slipped off her shoes, and he did the same.
He led her into the sand, and they walked down the beach, neither of them saying a word, his arm around her, her arm around him.
After a long while, they turned and headed back toward the beach house, both of them talking in soft tones—words of endearment, amour.
Aimer eperdument, Angel thought. Love to distraction.
He stopped and kissed her, and she thought her heart would burst from happiness.
He dropped to his knees in the sand.
Her heart was liquid love. “Cyril…”
He took her hand in his. “My darling Angel, will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” She bent down and kissed him.
“To have and to hold?” he quipped.
“From this day forward.”
“Forever and ever?” He stood up and took her in his arms.
“Thank You, Lawd!”