Tell Me Something Good Page 3

  “But I could help with Laurence and the others. I’m sure the board will support you if I—”

  “You don’t think I can handle it?” Noel squinted at her over the rim of his cup.

  “Don’t be ridiculous! You’ve taken hold of this company and put it back on the right track.” Miss Georgina leaned against the soft leather. “Willie was so stuck in the past. I would have had to orchestrate his ouster if he hadn’t retired.”

  Noel knew she would have done it, too. His grand-mother never flinched from tough decisions. Especially when it came to saving the St. Denis family reputation and fortune. They both gazed over at the large oil portrait on the opposite wall. A younger Miss Georgina sat in a chair. Her hair then was black and waved in the style popular in the forties. Noel’s grandfather stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder. He was a light-skinned man with gray eyes and thick black hair. His expression was staid, yet there was a soft light of kindness behind it.

  “Ten years and I can still hear his voice,” Noel said quietly.

  “Yes.” Miss Georgina stared at her late husband a moment longer then turned to Noel again. “Now, back to the present.”

  “The board meets again in one month. I’ll be more than ready by then,” Noel said in firm tone.

  “In other words, butt out,” Miss Georgina said dryly.

  Noel grinned at her. “Something like that.”

  There was another knock at the door, and then it opened. Carlton came in. He kissed Miss Georgina’s forehead. “Hello, Grandmother. You’re looking well. Noel.” He gave Noel a curt nod.

  “Good morning, Carlton,” Noel said mildly. “By the way, thanks for getting that report to Eddie for me.”

  “I could have gotten the figures from all four quarters if I’d had more time,” Carlton said with a tight smile. “I’m sure the meeting would have gone better.”

  Miss Georgina stopped in the act of reaching for a muffin. “What meeting?” she asked sharply and glanced at Noel.

  Noel pushed down a spurt of irritation. “I met with Larry Hardison about the mortgage on the Crowder Boulevard strip mall.”

  Miss Georgina put down her coffee cup. “Why? What’s wrong with Crowder Plaza Mall?”

  “The place is dying a slow death since that Super Discount Mart opened in the new mall,” Carlton spoke up. “I never thought we should have renovated that dinosaur.” “We’re talking a lot of jobs, Carlton. Crowder Plaza is in a poor neighborhood. They need that grocery store and the Dollar General. Not to mention the beauty shop,” Noel said, repeating the same arguments he’d used with his cousin before.

  “If we lose money, then we’ll have to make a decision to unload the least profitable assets. Crowder Plaza certainly fits that description,” Carlton said.

  “I agree with you. But I won’t make that decision unless I have to,” Noel said with an edge to his tone. “Meanwhile, the red ink flows,” Carlton tossed back. “The city council is working on making that area a free enterprise zone. West Services, Inc. is close to opening a customer service call center nearby.”

  Carlton spoke directly to Miss Georgina as though they were alone. “Both could be months, maybe even a year or more away, if either happens, Grandmother.”

  Noel struggled not to lose his temper. He glanced at his watch. “Aren’t you meeting with Julie and Andre in fifteen minutes about the Algiers properties?”

  His cousin faced him with a cold expression. “Thanks for reminding me. The new tenants I signed will make the warehouse and business park very profitable.”

  “Good. See you at three for our staff meeting.” Noel stared at him steadily.

  Carlton’s frozen expression cracked into a rigid smile. “Right,” he said, and then turned to Miss Georgina. “I’ll see you Sunday, Grandmother.” He gave her another kiss goodbye, looked at Noel once more, and then strolled out.

  Noel slapped the arm of his chair. “Arrogant little—”

  “He has a good point about the Plaza, son,” Miss Georgina cut in.

  “I know!” Noel admitted with a sour expression as though agreeing with Carlton hurt.

  “We’re a business, not a charity,” she went on firmly.

  “Businesses have a responsibility to the community, Grandmother.”

  “The St. Denis family has done more than its share for this parish.” She went on about the charities they contributed to.

  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 parkin
g 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 lettuc
e, 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.