Tell Me Something Good (4 page)

As she talked, Noel ground his back teeth in
frustration. Since he’d taken over the company, he’d implemented
his own style of management. An important part of it was to change
the way they did business. He intended to do more than write checks
and attend fancy fundraisers. Noel had spent hours convincing Miss
Georgina and the board members, most of whom were family, that his
ideas would be good for Tremé Corporation’s bottom line.

“Grandmother, this is the twenty-first
century. Businesses have to be community partners,” Noel said
quickly when she stopped to take a breath.

“I know what century it is,” she snapped, her
dark eyes flashing. “I’m seventy-seven, but I’m not senile.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Noel said. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Miss Georgina gazed
at him for a few moments. “You’re itching to tell me to shut up and
let you nm this company.”

“I wouldn’t dare say such a thing.” Noel’s
mouth lifted at one corner. “Not as long as you’re carrying that
cane.” Miss Georgina laughed and relaxed in her chair again. “I
don’t know why I put up with your insolence.” “Because we’re so
much alike.” He grinned at her.

“No, you’re like Phillip. Thank God for
that.” Miss Georgina stood. “Call a car to take me home. I’ve
pestered you enough for one day.”

“I’ll get Marlon to drive you.” Noel called
their courier in the mailroom to take Miss Georgina home in the
company car.

She gazed at Noel steadily. “What did you
think of Miss Rideau? She seems competent.” Her gaze seemed to look
straight into his thoughts.

Noel hadn’t been raised in the St. Denis clan
without learning how to think fast. “Her credentials are very
impressive,” he said evenly. Still his memory flashed on a pair of
full lips that seemed to beg for kisses.

“For all his fawning over us, Taylor will
probably get her to do most of the real work.” Miss Georgina
continued to study Noel closely as she spoke. “She’s very pretty.
Nice figure, too. Reminds me of what’s-her-name, that woman you
were dating last year.”

Noel scowled. “There’s no comparison.
Shauna’s biggest interest was shopping,” he said without thinking.
“I doubt she’d know a Picasso from one of those mass- produced
paintings they sell at the mall.”

“Ms. Rideau did impress you.”

Before Noel could respond, Marlon stuck his
head in the door. “Hey, Miz St. Denis. Ready to go?”

“Yes, she is,” Noel said promptly. “Goodbye,
sweet Grandmother.” He pecked her cheek.

Miss Georgina tucked her purse under an arm.
“I get the hint. Stay out of your personal life, too. We’ll talk
later, dear.”

“I’m sure we will,” Noel murmured in a
long-suffering tone.

She turned a warm smile on Marlon. “Now,
young man, let’s see if you can drive me home without breaking the
sound barrier this time.”

Noel sat down again and tried to concentrate
on the pile of work on his desk. An image of Lyrissa’s large brown
eyes and luscious lips kept floating into his head. Before he
plunged into a stack of invoices, Noel took out his Palm Pilot. He
tapped the key that opened the address book then found the phone
number of Taylor Gallery.

I’m only following your advice, Grandmother,
he thought as he dialed the number. Paying attention to business.
The sooner we get started on the appraisal, the better. “Ms.
Rideau, please.”

Two days later Lyrissa walked into Copeland’s
on St. Charles Avenue and glanced around for Noel St. Denis. The
popular restaurant was packed, as usual. She’d left her Honda
Accord at work and taken a cab since there was little parking on
the lovely streets of the Garden District. She paid the driver and
walked into the restaurant wondering just what she was doing here.
Noel St. Denis had made his invitation sound like business. Still
her pulse had inched up when he suggested they meet over lunch. Mr.
Taylor had been far from being annoyed he wasn’t invited—he’d been
delighted.

“Leave at eleven and beat the crowd,” her
boss had said with enthusiasm.

So here she was, about to have lunch with one
of the most sought after bachelors in New Orleans. Lyrissa was
determined not to make a fool of herself. She glanced at her
wristwatch. Ten minutes early to prepare herself before he arrived.
A harried but smiling waiter dressed in a crisp white shirt and
black pants approached.

“How many?” he asked.

“Two, non-smoking,” Lyrissa said,
anticipating his next question.

“This way, please.”

He led her into the dining area to a table
near the window that faced St. Charles. In no time she had a glass
of water with a slice of lemon and a basket of warm bread in front
of her. Lyrissa quenched her thirst, absentmindedly sipping as she
gazed down the tree-lined boulevard. Flowers bloomed everywhere.
Late spring sunshine painted the scene a cheery yellow. Yet
Lyrissa’s thoughts were on the task ahead of her.

Noel St. Denis was a wild card, she mused.
She’d been prepared to face Miss Georgina, as the woman was called.
Lyrissa had spent the last six months learning about her. Her
grandmother and great-aunt had given her the history, but Lyrissa
had used her own contacts to find out recent information. Convinced
she’d be dealing with Miss Georgina, Lyrissa had not spent much
time investigating her grandchildren. Of course, she knew of Noel.
He had a reputation as handsome, somewhat aloof, and completely
devoted to the family business. She had been told that he was a
discreet ladies’ man. “Very selective” was the phrase she’d heard
more than once when it came to his choice of female companions.
Lyrissa concluded that meant his women had to meet the usual
upper-class old Creole family criteria, the right pedigree, lots of
money, and of course, the right skin color. She gave a soft hiss of
disgust. She was prepared to deal with Mr. Personality.

At least, she thought so ... until Noel
suddenly towered over her.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his deep voice
rumbling. His full lips parted in a captivating smile. “Hope you
haven’t been waiting long.” He put one hand on the back of her
chair.

She blinked rapidly. His subtle, spicy
cologne wrapped around her. “No, just a few minutes, really,” she
managed to get out, fighting to catch her breath. The man exuded a
kind of magnetic force.

“Good. Iced tea, please,” he said to the
waiter like a man used to being served promptly. “I had a meeting
that ran too long. And you know how traffic is downtown.”

“Yes, of course,” Lyrissa murmured.

Noel unbuttoned his jacket, smoothed his
green and tan silk tie, and sat across from her. She gazed at him
as he picked up his menu. The noise around them faded in and out as
she watched every move he made. He wore a dark khaki suit of a
light fabric. Despite his muscular build, he looked perfectly at
ease in business attire. Lyrissa imagined him dressed casually in a
knit short-sleeved shirt hugging his broad chest, golden brown arms
glistening in the sunlight. What would he look like in body-hugging
blue jeans that outlined solid thighs? Even better, how would he
look in swim trunks? She tilted her head to one side. Her gaze slid
down his chest to the chocolate brown leather belt around his slim
waist “Is something wrong?” he asked.

She snapped out of her reverie. “Excuse
me?”

“You seem preoccupied. Guess my social
chatter needs work.” He smiled that charming smile.

Lyrissa reluctantly gave up her vision of his
hard body gradually shedding clothes. She drank deeply from her
glass, thinking that she’d have done better to splash the cold
water on her face. Still, the maneuver gave her time to recover.
Two minutes into their conversation and she had the man practically
naked in her mind. Sure she’d just broken the world speed record
for Lusting After a Single Male, she cleared her throat and forced
a smile.

“I should leave the office behind. It’s just
that I have so much work piled up.”

“Then I won’t waste your time with small
talk.” Noel gazed at her with an amused expression.

Lyrissa blushed. This lunch was definitely
not going ac-cording to her plan. Noel was in the driver’s seat and
she didn’t even remember giving it up. “That’s not at all what I
meant, Mr. St. Denis.”

“Noel.”

She ignored the warmth his invitation
inspired. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“I’ll call you Lyrissa, if you don’t mind,”
he continued, staring at her intently. “You don’t do you?” His
baritone voice rolled out the red carpet, enticing her to greater
intimacy.

“N-no,” she stammered then wanted to kick
herself for sounding so graceless. You have definitely lost
control. Correction, you never had it.

Just then the waiter arrived. “I’m sorry,
folks. We’re just so busy. Are you ready to order?”

Lyrissa sagged with relief as Noel turned his
attention from her. He ordered a shrimp remoulade salad and more
iced tea. She clutched her menu as though it were a lifesaver. All
too soon it was her turn. The waiter looked at her.

“And for you, ma’am?”

Lyrissa prayed her voice wouldn’t come out as
a squeak. She sipped more water. “I’ll have the spicy grilled fish
and a garden salad,” she said, surprised at how normal she
sounded.

Noel leaned toward her. “Lyrissa—”

“I’ve read about the St. Denis art
collection,” she cut in smoothly, careful to wear a placid
expression. “The history of the art is a big part of the history of
your family.” He hesitated as though debating whether to give in or
continue his seduction. Lyrissa squared her shoulders and gazed at
him steadily. They seemed to be sizing each other up. She hoped he
hadn’t detected the chink in her armor. Too many months of forced
celibacy, she told herself. That had to be it. Just hang on, girl.
Noel nodded as though conceding for now, at least. Lyrissa had no
doubt he’d try again. But she’d be ready next time.

“The St. Denises have always been pack rats,”
he said with a grin and sipped some iced tea.

“Pack rats with very good taste,” Lyrissa
replied.

“You haven’t seen all the strange things in
attics and spare rooms.” He leaned forward and lowered his
voice.

“Don’t tell anybody, but some of my relatives
are a little peculiar.”

“I think we can safely say that secret came
out years ago,” she tossed back, then gasped. Her rapid-fire mouth
had gone off again.

Noel laughed. “Trust me; the rumors aren’t
half as wild as the truth.”

Lyrissa felt her cheeks bum. When would she
learn to think first, and then speak?

“So you know all about the St. Denis family?”
Noel sat back when the waiter appeared with their food.

“More tea and water?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, please,” Lyrissa said, her throat
already dry as dust. She waited until he’d filled both glasses, and
then darted off again. “I did search through articles about the
collection. The most recent one I found was written about eight
months ago.”

“Right. That was when the Amistad Center
displayed several old family documents.” Noel used his fork to
spear a succulent shrimp.

Lyrissa stared at the way his mouth closed
around it. She looked down at her plate when he glanced at her.
“Uh, yes. I noticed that Miss Georgina is listed as the owner. But
you mentioned the collection is somewhat spread out through the
family.”

“Some pieces were gifts to my
great-great-grandfather. He’s the one who gathered all the art and
made it into a collection. He was an art lover. He scavenged family
attics.”

“I see.”

“We’re famous for having maiden aunts and
confirmed bachelors with no kids. So to keep valuable items from
being lost, he made it his business to keep the family legacy
intact.” Noel chewed a bit of lettuce, and then glanced up.

“Harland St. Denis was a man of foresight.
Most African-American families haven’t been able to preserve that
much of their history.” Despite her low opinion of the St. Denis
clan, Lyrissa’s compliment was genuine.

“You have done your homework, Lyrissa,” Noel
said with an appreciative expression.

She shivered at how his deep voice rolled out
the syllables of her name. “It’s part of my job, of course.”
Lyrissa concentrated on cutting a small square of fish.

“What else have you dug up on us? None of the
nastier family skeletons, I hope.”

Lyrissa glanced at him sharply. “Not at all.
The St. Denis family has a fine reputation. I wouldn’t dream of...”
Noel put down his fork. “Relax. I’m just kidding. Look, I’m not my
grandmother. She takes the whole ‘protect the family name’ thing
very seriously.”

“And you don’t?” Lyrissa eyed him with
interest now. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my family. But I
know not all my ancestors were saints.” He lifted a shoulder and
picked up his fork again.

What an understatement! She’d done her
homework, all right. The St. Denis family had not only a generous
helping of eccentrics, but their share of robber barons as well.
Some of the best pieces in the famous family collection had been
stolen. Lyrissa would right at least one particular wrong. “If you
say so,” she replied with a tight smile. Something in her tone must
have caught his attention. He looked at her with an intensity that
could have started a fire. Lyrissa swam against a strong tide that
threatened to pull her into those smoky amber eyes. Noel wore the
ghost of a smile as though very much aware of his effect on
her.

“Tell me about you, Lyrissa.”

She blocked the start of another shiver when
he said her name. She was determined to make her body behave.

“I received my BA degree from Dillard
University in fine arts. I completed my master’s in art history at
Tulane. Now I’m working on a Ph.D. with a concentration in art
administration. I’d like to be a curator at a major museum one
day.” Lyrissa knew she was babbling, but couldn’t help it. If only
he’d stop looking at her like that.