Temptation. Donna Hill

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.

      Chapter 4

      En route to her office, Noelle made good on her statement to Cole Richards. She took a short stroll through the gardens, the three dining rooms, the pool and the exercise room. She made a point to speak to each guest personally. Everyone that she met confirmed that the service and accommodations surpassed all expectations.

      She should be elated, but instead she felt more under the microscope than ever. All eyes would be on Liaisons and her for the next few months. Everything had to be better than perfect.

      The fact that Cole Richards was to be a long-term guest, mildly complicated matters. He made her feel things, think things, want things. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by him or anyone. Not now.

      Arriving in her office, Noelle sorted through the mail and reviewed the bills that required her signature for payment. She casually flicked through the stack until she came across a plain white envelope addressed to her from Jordan’s attorney in Los Angeles.

      Curious, she tore it open. As she read the unbelievable contents the words began to blur and her hands trembled.

      Screaming denial rang in her brain. This must be some macabre joke. But as she continued to read the familiar scrawl she knew that it was true.

      The light knocking on the door, nearly caused her to cry out. She cleared her throat and swallowed back the tears. The knock came again. She pushed control into her voice.

      “Yes? Come in.”

      The door swung open. “Well. Good afternoon.” Tempest whisked in closing the door behind her. She took a seat on the low sleek, leather couch. “Whew. I’m exhausted. What a night.”

      “I know. It was better than I expected,” Noelle answered absently.

      Tempest frowned. “You don’t sound like you’re too pleased.”

      Noelle briefly shook her head. “Of course I’m pleased. Why shouldn’t I be? Liaisons’s opening surpassed everything that I ever dreamed,” she concluded, pointedly avoiding Tempest’s steady gaze.

      Tempest pursed her full red lips and crossed her legs.

      “How long have we been friends, Noelle?”

      The question caught Noelle off guard. She forced a laugh. “For more than eight years. Why?”

      “We’ve always been honest with each other, right?”

      “Of