Читать книгу Temptation - Donna Hill - Страница 9

Trent moved like a caged panther around his suite, tossing his belongings around as if they were to be discarded.

Noelle St. James-Maxwell had unnerved him. That’s all there was to it. He’d never met a woman capable of doing that to him, especially without even trying.

He blew out an exasperated breath and jammed his hands in his pockets. How in the world was he supposed to accomplish what he’d come to do, if he couldn’t be in the same room with her without losing his cool? To compound the problem, once she realized who he was, he was sure she wouldn’t come within ten feet of him.

He ran his hand across his bearded chin. Perhaps he could get around that little inconvenience, he thought. At least until he won her confidence.

He stopped pacing. The wheels began to spin. He was sure that he could pull it off. All he needed was a few weeks, two months at best, and his work would be finished.

He strode across the room to the phone and picked up the elaborate Liaisons brochure that had only been distributed to the selected few. He dialed the private number.

The illuminated numbers on the bedside clock, were reflected in Noelle’s weary eyes. In little more than an hour the sun would rise across the bay. She hadn’t slept more than a few minutes all night.

Instead of succumbing to the fatigue that enveloped her, she tossed and turned, reliving the moment she’d heard of Jordan’s death. She never confided her true feelings to anyone about that moment.

She’d always been too ashamed.

No one really knew or understood her relationship with Jordan. On the surface, they appeared to be the fairy tale couple come to life. In a way, they were. They looked great together. Their goals were one. They were perfectly complementary. Yet her life was anything but a fairy tale, it was simply all that she knew.

While she respected and adored Jordan, he left her empty. She was a shell, a product of his creation. She missed something she had no name for and every so often pangs of loneliness would hit her. How many times had she questioned her reasons for remaining with Jordan? How many nights had she spent alone, unfulfilled, but too loyal to her husband to commit the unspeakable? Jordan sensed it too and inexplicably he provoked her, intentionally trying to drive her into another man’s arms.

Yet through all of her hurt and loneliness, she understood Jordan like no one else. She saw through the ruthlessness, the drive, to the vulnerable man beneath the facade. And she knew that as long as they remained husband and wife she would stay committed to her wedding vows. Vows that she believed in with all of her heart. “What God has joined together…” For that reason, she knew, deep inside, Jordan was grateful for her tenderness and compassion. In turn, he showered her with gifts, cars, jewelry. They traveled, they danced, they met dignitaries, they dined in all of the exotic places across the globe. But they never truly loved. Not in the same sense that a husband and wife loved. More like two dear friends who were truly indebted to each other for their very existence. An existence that was cruelly snatched away from her and she had only one man to blame.

It was nearly noon when Noelle emerged from her room. She’d finally fallen into a deep sleep shortly before sunrise, with dreams filled with vivid images of the man she’d met at the opening. The titillating dreams left her more on edge than before, which only added to her anxiety for having overslept.

She went directly to the lower salon to check the guests who had stayed over. Spotting Liaisons’s manager, Gina Nkiru, she quickly crossed the polished marble floor to Gina’s desk. As she approached she wondered, once again, why Gina had chosen the hotel industry as a career. With her exquisite streamlined looks and penchant for top of the line clothing, she could have easily been a success in the world of high fashion. Nonetheless, her credentials were above reproach.

Gina’s auburn head snapped up from her paperwork when she sensed a presence above her.

“Oh. Good morning, Mrs. Maxwell,” Gina beamed. She quickly rose and smoothed her mauve skirt. Gina felt honored to be asked to hold the highest position at Liaisons. Gina’s years of work in the hotel industry, working as her father’s aide at the embassy of Ghana and her multilingual skills had served her well in vying for this job. But all of her experience could not have prepared her for the mystique of Liaisons. It was something out of the most vivid imagination. She’d lost count of the celebrities and public figures that had graced the building the previous night. To think that many of them would become regular patrons was almost too much for Gina to comprehend.

Gina wished that she could tell her friends and family about everyone that she’d seen. But all employees were bound by legal contract never to divulge that information. That along with her uncompromising professionalism would never allow her to breach a trust.

Anonymity was the big draw of Liaisons. Each and every guest was secure in the knowledge that their identities and their dalliances would remain secret. Hence the name Liaisons. That and the $2,500.00 per night fee and the exclusion of any media, effectively deterred the foolhardy.

Even with that knowledge she was still stunned to be holding a cashier’s check for $75,000.00 for the new arrival, Cole Richards.

“How is everything Gina?” Noelle inquired, briefly scanning the guests as they milled about.

“So far, so good, Mrs. Maxwell.” She took a peek at the occupancy list that indicated, only, which suites were in use. “We have a total of ten guests. There are two vacant suites on level two, a vacancy on level one and one suite available on the penthouse floor.”

Noelle nodded. Satisfied. She allowed herself a brief moment of relief. “Let me take a look at the private register.”

Gina retrieved the leather-bound journal from the safe and handed it to Noelle.

Noelle scanned the names, nodding at each familiar one, until she reached the name Cole Richards. She frowned. “Who is this?” She pointed to the last entry.

Gina peered across the desk to the line that Noelle indicated with a French manicured finger.

“I’m sure I saw him last night, Mrs. Maxwell,” she assured with confidence. “He checked in about an hour ago. He’s on level three. He gave me this.” She showed Noelle the check.

Noelle’s brown eyes briefly widened in surprise. “$75,000.00?” She did a quick mental calculation. “He intends to stay for an entire month?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Did he provide the required references?”

“Yes. I filed them away. Would you like to see them?”

“Please.”

Gina exited through the door directly behind her desk into the back office. Momentarily she returned with a sealed folder. She handed it to Noelle.

“I’ll just take this to my office. I’ll be sure to return it before the end of the day.”

“Of course.” Gina started to feel uneasy. A tiny spot just beneath her left eye began to twitch—a sure sign. Her father always said that she was psychic, and her feelings were generally on target. She only hoped that this time her intuition was off.

Noelle turned to leave.

“Mrs. Maxwell?”

Noelle came around looking at Gina quizzically.

“Didn’t everyone who was here last night receive a personal invitation?”

“Yes. Unless they were the guest of someone who did. Why do you ask?”

“Then Mr. Richards must be a friend or the guest of someone that you know.”

“That remains to be seen.” She smiled briefly and headed in the direction of her office.

Gina swallowed back her trepidations. As she marked Noelle’s departure, she had the unsettling sensation that trouble was on the horizon. But she had her own secret to concern herself with, and it would take all of her diplomatic skills to keep it under wraps. If Noelle were ever to find out, she would surely lose this fabulous job.

Noelle took the short ride on the glass elevator to the lower level where her office was housed.

Within moments she’d broken open the plastic seal and had methodically run over the details that it contained.

There was a personal letter from her friend Senator Richard Thomas of California. He described Cole Richards in glowing terms, saying that they had been associates for several years and he was very familiar with Mr. Richards’ entrepreneurial skills in the aeronautical industry.

Planes. The thought evoked painful memories. She shoved them to the back of her mind. She set the letter aside and looked over the brief personal profile.

He was 35 years old, preferred privacy, home state New York. He would be staying for one month in suite number 9. He listed his occupation as an Aeronautical Consultant. No guests were expected.

Pensively she looked across the room and focused on the Picasso abstract, absently replacing the pages and closing the folder.

Suite number 9. That was on the east wing, set off by itself, she recalled. Braxton had designed it specifically for those that wanted the utmost privacy.

For some reason, Cole Richards had sparked her curiosity. She leaned back in her leather seat and Jordan’s words of wisdom echoed in her mind. Never leave anything to chance. You always stay ahead of your opponent by already knowing what they’re trying to find out.

Slowly she pushed herself away from her desk. Perhaps she’d pay a personal visit to her special guest. Just to satisfy her curiosity, of course.

Hesitantly, Noelle stood in front of suite number 9. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. After all, the profile did indicate that Mr. Richards wanted his privacy. Then again, she reasoned, as owner of Liaisons it was her responsibility to be assured that her guests’ anonymity was not compromised by any unscrupulous individual, which this Cole Richards very well could be. She felt mildly justified.

Inhaling deeply she knocked on the door, then waited for what seemed like an eternity. She was beginning to truly feel ridiculous. She turned to leave just as the door was snatched open.

“Yes?”

The familiar voice vibrated down her spine and momentarily held her in place. As she turned around to face him, her eyes locked on the bare, wet chest then drifted down to the white towel that scarcely covered his middle. Her mouth went dry and her face felt flushed, and for the life of her she couldn’t think of anything logical to explain her appearance. Standing before him she, once again, felt like the young inexperienced waitress instead of the twenty-eight-year-old businesswoman.

He merely stared at her, seeming totally nonplussed by his half-naked appearance. His cavalier attitude snapped her to her senses.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Monsieur Richards. It seems that I’ve come at a bad time.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Now why would you say that, Mrs. Maxwell?”

She quickly realized from his tone that he was teasing her, apparently taking great pleasure from their encounter.

“Would you like to come in while I—uh—put something on? I was expecting room service.”

Noelle straightened her shoulders and forced her gaze up from below his waist to focus on his eyes. She quickly discovered that wasn’t much better.

“I want to make a practice of visiting all of my guests,” she replied. “Especially those that intend to stay with us for a while.”

The smooth cadence of her voice reminded him of hot nights on sandy beaches with a full moon glowing above. Sensual.

“But I think I should come at another time. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” She made a move to leave.

He reached out and touched her shoulder and she swore that must be what an electric shock felt like.

His voice was low, throbbing. “I hope it’s not a problem that I’ll be staying for a while.” His fingers began to burn with the contact. Reluctantly he removed his hand. “I need the rest.” His smile held an invitation.

“I didn’t mean to give the impression that your stay was a problem.” She touched her hand to her chest. “I apologize.”

“None needed.” His eyes held hers.

Noelle was the first to look away.

“I—I must be going. If there’s anything you need…”

“I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Noelle gave him one last fleeting look, turned on her heel and walked quickly down the carpeted corridor.

Trent leaned casually against the door frame watching her hasty departure. The cool mint green linen dress just barely skimmed her knees. Last night he thought he’d had the perfect view of those luscious legs. Now he knew what had been left to the imagination.

He surprised himself with the control he exerted while she stood in front of him. It had taken every ounce of self-restraint to still the urges that pulsed through his loins, while she stood there looking so flustered, assured and delectable all at once.

Now that she knew he was there, the next phase of his plan had to be executed.

He shut the door. In a little more than ninety days, the notes would be called in. Everything that Jordan worked for would come tumbling down. The only person who could salvage his empire was Noelle. And the one she needed to learn the ropes from was him. The last man on earth she’d have anything to do with. He had to get her to trust him. Or at least trust Cole Richards.