Tell Me Something Good (6 page)

“Your job is to catalogue and appraise our
family art,” Mrs. St. Denis said.

Lyrissa swallowed a tart reply itching to
slip from her lips. She couldn’t afford to get tossed out on her
butt the first day of this assignment. She would have to face her
furious boss. Worse still, Mama Grace would throw a fit that would
make Mrs. St. Denis seem like a pussycat. Noel seemed to take great
delight in watching the two strong women face off. Lyrissa ground
her teeth with the effort, but succeeded in plastering on a
subservient smile.

“Of course. I only meant you would have the
report faster if the list were more complete,” Lyrissa said.

After a few beats, Mrs. St Denis gave a
slight nod. She wore the expression of a queen granting reprieve to
an of-fending subject. “Time is a consideration. But I don’t think
you’ll have a difficult task.”

Rosalie came in. “Miz Olivier is on the phone
for ya. Somethin’ ’bout a problem with the St. Augustine charity
ball.”

“Can’t Beatrice do at least one thing without
calling me?” Mrs. St Denis muttered in irritation. “I’d better take
this call.”

Noel stood. “I’ll show Lyrissa where to
begin. My grandfather’s study has a small display room next to it,”
he said to Lyrissa.

Mrs. St. Denis flashed him another silent
message, but merely nodded. She watched them leave, and then
punched a blinking button on the phone before her. “Yes, yes,
Beatrice. Now what?”

Lyrissa walked beside the tall, handsome man
very much aware that Mrs. St. Denis was not pleased. “Rosalie can
show me the way. I know how busy you must be.”

“No problem,” he said with a charming
smile.

“Uh-huh,” was Rosalie’s arch comment as she
headed off in the opposite direction.

As she followed him back to the antique doors
she’d so admired, Lyrissa had the distinct feeling she was walking
into trouble. Being alone with Noel would be a distraction. She
wanted to get rid of him so she could snoop around. The fact that
he had an uncanny knack for turning her on was an even better
reason.

“Here we are. Grandfather’s inner sanctum.”
Noel swept a hand around, indicating a large study. Two walls
consisted of floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

“What a marvelous collection of old books!”
Lyrissa crossed the thick carpet to read the spines. Many had
titles in French.

“So you’re a book lover, too.” Noel joined
her.

“I could spend hours in here,” she said,
brushing her fingertips along the embossed leather covers.

“What a great idea. We could spend them
together.” Noel wore a bland expression when Lyrissa glanced at him
sharply. “—Working on completing the list, of course.” “Of course.”
Lyrissa stepped away from him. He was far too sure of himself for
her taste. “You mentioned a display room?”

“Through here.” Noel went to a door set in
the opposite wall. He opened it and waited for her to follow.

To her dismay, the door was narrow and she
brushed against him as she entered the room. Her pulse raced at the
brief contact. Still she remembered her real purpose for being
here. She looked around. There were four long glass display cases.
Two contained old documents. The others held antique eyeglasses,
writing pens, and other items no doubt owned by St. Denis
ancestors. Framed antique maps of New Orleans, Louisiana and Haiti
hung on the walls.

“This is a small museum,” Lyrissa said and
looked at Noel. “These should be catalogued as well.”

“Taken care of, ma’am. The Amistad Center
will get these on permanent loan from the family.”

Lyrissa nodded. The Amistad Center had been
established to preserve African-American history. “Very good.”
“We’re not completely irresponsible,” Noel said dryly. “Why didn’t
you have them catalogue the art as well?” “We need a professional
appraisal.” Noel stood aside so she could lead the way back into
the study.

“I see. I assume I can work here after a tour
of the house’s art. I’ll sit at this small table.” Lyrissa started
for-ward, but he put a hand on her arm. Her skin tingled at his
touch through the fabric of her jacket.

“You’ll need more room. Sit at the desk.”

“Your grandfather’s desk? Mrs. St. Denis
might not like that at all.” Lyrissa moved away to break contact
and clear her head of bothersome fantasies forming.

Mrs. St. Denis came in. “I don’t mind one
bit. You’ll have more room and your work will go faster.”

“Right.” Lyrissa suppressed a smile. She
understood well that Mrs. St Denis wanted Lyrissa far away from her
grandson.

“The charity ball back on track?” Noel asked
his grandmother.

“Thank God for Rosalie. Beatrice had totally
bungled handling the caterers, but everything is fine now.” Mrs.
St. Denis walked to the desk and ran her fingers on its surface.
“My husband’s grandfather had this sent from New York.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lyrissa said. She still
hesitated to sit in the large forest green leather chair.

“Go on.” Mrs. St Denis gestured to the desk
and chair. “Don’t let us keep you from working.” She shot a pointed
look at Noel.

“I’d better get to the office. I’ll see you
later, Lyrissa. Maybe I’ll join you two for lunch,” he smiled at
her.

“I’ll probably be gone by then,” Lyrissa
said. “I have a class this afternoon.”

“Oh, I see.”

Lyrissa’s pulse jumped again. Was that
disappointment in his attractive brown eyes? “Goodbye.” She calmly
turned her attention to taking papers out of her briefcase.

“Goodbye,” he replied, still looking at
her.

“You can have lunch with me for a change,”
Mrs. St. Denis put in.

Noel turned to his grandmother with a boyish
grin. “What a delightful idea. See you around twelve-thirty. He
kissed Miss Georgina’s cheek and left.

“Now, where do we start?” Mrs. St. Denis
stood over her.

“Show me the items here in the house,”
Lyrissa said.

For two hours Mrs. St. Denis led her through
the spacious rooms, giving her a history lesson on the St. Denis
family. Lyrissa mused that it was a distinctly sanitized version.
Rosalie had been right in her assessment of some of the St. Denis
forebears. Miss Georgina characterized them as astute businessmen
who amassed a fortune through hard work. Mama Grace wasn’t alone in
the opinion that more than a few had been ruthless robber barons.
Yet Lyrissa had to admire their taste. The rascals had stolen well
when it came to art. Finally they returned to the study. Mrs. St.
Denis sat down heavily in a leather chair. She seemed winded and
her face was lined with fatigue. Lyrissa started to sit next to her
in the matching chair when Mrs. St. Denis waved her away.

“No, no. Sit at the desk, Ms. Rideau.”

“Thank you,” Lyrissa said.

Lyrissa sat down in the captain’s chair
behind the desk and gazed around the room. Around her were fine
art, antiques, and wall-to-wall rare books. Rosalie appeared with a
tray bearing glasses of iced tea. A girl could get used to this,
she mused.

Mrs. St. Denis patted her cheeks with a
napkin and spoke after taking a delicate sip from her glass of
tea.

“There’s more in the attic, but I’m afraid I
can’t climb up that narrow staircase.”

She stood. “You rest, Mrs. St Denis. I’ll
take it from here.” Lyrissa felt a surge of excitement at being
able to search on her own so soon.

“Sit and have some tea before you go back to
work.” Her invitation was more a command.

“Thank you.” Lyrissa bit back her frustration
and smiled graciously.

Rosalie handed Lyrissa a glass. She winked at
her, and then turned to Mrs. St Denis. “I’ve got chicken salad,
fresh romaine lettuce and chives, and sliced home-grown tomatoes.
That okay for lunch?”

“Yes, indeed. Rosalie’s chicken salad is
famous,” Miss Georgina said to Lyrissa.

“I’ll call /all when it’s ready. Around
twelve-thirty, as usual.” Rosalie left

“What’s next?” Mrs. St. Denis asked.

“I’m going to look at each item again. I’ll
fill in missing information on the list such as the names of
artists, country of origin, that sort of thing.”

Mrs. St. Denis lifted her chin. “I believe in
being candid. I wasn’t happy that Felton Taylor assigned you
instead of doing the work himself. But you seem meticulous in your
approach. I like that.”

“Thank you, Mrs. St. Denis,” Lyrissa replied
with a slight smile.

“We should have done this long ago. We had
other priorities.” Mrs. St. Denis took a deep breath. She seemed to
have recovered from the effort to keep up with Lyrissa.

“Yes, ma’am. Trem6 Corporation,” Lyrissa
said.

She nodded slowly. “Noel has done a wonderful
job. Reminds me of his grandfather in that way.”

The older woman seemed lost in her thoughts
for a time. Lyrissa studied the oil portrait of Phillip St. Denis
more closely. Noel had the same determined set to his chiseled
features, the same finely etched jaw line as his grandfather.

She remembered her grandmother’s description
of Phillip St. Denis as an enlightened despot who ruled his family
and company with an iron hand. Mama Grace had sneered that he was
cut from the same mold as his ancestors, and just as callous.
Lyrissa wondered if Noel shared that quality as well. Certainly he
exuded an aura of power. His tall, well-developed frame implied
physical power as well. The image of his well-muscled thighs and
arms flashed in her head. Noel had a hard body that could make a
woman sweat bullets. Still, he was a St. Denis. He came from a long
line of Creoles who’d looked down on the likes of her. Back to
business, she mentally ordered herself, glad the handsome
distraction was out of the house. With any luck she would not see
much of him.

“I understand that the artwork will be
considered a corporate asset,” Lyrissa ventured.

Mrs. St. Denis’s bemused expression cleared.
“My grandson’s idea. We’ll see.”

“Still, it’s important to document such
valuable items. For inheritance purposes, if nothing else,” Lyrissa
said in a discreet reference to Miss Georgina’s mortality.

The older woman waved a hand. “That’s not an
issue.” “I see,” Lyrissa answered, although she didn’t.

“I’ll let you get to work.” Miss Georgina
stood slowly.

“Call Rosalie if you need anything. I’ll be
in my office.” “Thank you.” Lyrissa watched her walk away. “Alone
at last,” she whispered.

The next hour passed quickly as she went back
through the house and looked at each item. She went into the attic,
a large room that was neat despite being packed with items. There
were pieces of glazed pottery and small ceramic figurines, and
several small paintings stacked against one wall. With the
excitement of a child on a treasure hunt, she delighted in each new
find of a significant piece of art. The discoveries heightened her
anticipation of finding the one masterpiece she most wanted to see.
Lyrissa’s heart pounded each time she spied a frame. With so much
to look through, she was sure “The Stroll” was within her grasp.
She imagined removing it from its frame, rolling it up into a tube,
and simply walking through the door with it. The St. Denis family
wouldn’t even miss it. After all, they weren’t even sure of what
they owned.

Lyrissa stood staring at a large framed map
of Louisiana when it was still a Spanish colony. She traced a
finger along the crescent outline of the old city of New Orleans.
The Joubert and St. Denis families were from the same world, yet
worlds apart. The distance was a good reason why she shouldn’t
entertain lustful fantasies about Noel St. Denis. “I see you’ve
found our own version of a flea market.” She spun around to find
that her fantasy had materialized. Speak of the devil. Lyrissa
cleared her throat. Her mind should be on her goal, not him. Noel
smiled and her pulse rate revved like a racecar engine. He dipped
his head as he stepped across the threshold into the attic. Lyrissa
looked up at him, trying to recall every nasty story about his
family that she’d heard. If only that silk suit didn’t drape across
his muscular body so well. Noel looked less like a workaholic
businessman than like a sexy black gladiator fresh from conquering
foreign lands. He walked toward her radiating animal power and
beauty in each step. In a flash like a camera bulb going off, she
imagined being scooped into his arms and her mouth crushed against
his. Lyrissa gasped when he pulled off his jacket.

“I’ll help get some of this stuff out of your
way. Tell me what you want.” He hung the jacket on an old mahogany
coat rack nearby, and then stood with both hands on his narrow
waist.

She stared at the way his custom dress shirt
molded to his chest. Suddenly the dimly lit attic became an
intimate hideaway just right for a romantic assignation.

“What I want?” Lyrissa repeated in a dazed
voice. His eyes warmed the longer they looked at each other. She
cleared her throat and turned away. “I’m about to wrap up
here.”

“Too bad,” he murmured.

Lyrissa glanced at him to see a faint,
seductive smile curve his full lips up at the comers. Great! Mr.
Lover could see right into her lust-filled, dirty mind. He seemed
to have a “Gotcha!” glint in his eyes. She’d seen his type before.
Noel St. Denis slipped neatly into a familiar category: dog.
Lyrissa pulled back her shoulders and faced him. Her expression
tightened as one eyebrow went up, the expression she used to brush
aside unwanted male attention.

“Actually, I’ve got a lot of other business
to take care of. So it’s all good,” she said with a frosty smile.
“Excuse me.” She stepped forward and waited for him to move. He
didn’t.

“I enjoyed our lunch the other day. I suggest
we meet again. In fact, let’s meet regularly so I can get progress
re-ports.” Noel continued to smile.

“Mr. Taylor has already agreed to keep Mrs.
St. Denis informed.” Lyrissa tucked her legal pad under one arm.
She maintained her distant demeanor even though he was disturbingly
close.