by Emery, Lynn
Lyrissa was sitting on a stone bench in the shade of a large magnolia tree. She stared across the park deep in thought. Her thick hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The black frames of her dark sunglasses gave her a look of casual elegance. Light glinted from her silver hoop earrings. Noel stopped to admire her from afar. She wore a crisp white cotton shirt tucked into a dark red skirt. The short sleeves left her bare arms exposed. A short red jacket was neatly folded across her lap. Sunlight gave her brown skin a golden glow.
“Wow,” he mumbled to himself. He’d been with beautiful women before, but none as delectable as Lyrissa Rideau.
A tall man seemed to come from nowhere. He held a basset hound on a leash. He started to walk by, but doubled back. Lyrissa seemed to notice him about the same time. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she smiled up at him. Their laughter drifted on the breeze as they talked. Noel strode forward to drive out the intruder.
“Hi, Lyrissa,” he said with forced cheer. “Sorry I’m a little late.”
Lyrissa looked at him through the opaque dark lenses. “Only about ten minutes. No problem.”
“I’m Noel St Denis.” He stuck out his hand.
“Tony Tate,” the man said, as he shook hands with him.
“So ...” Noel looked at Lyrissa with a questioning expression.
“Tony’s an old pal from college.” She smiled at Tony fondly.
“Nice to meet you. We should go,” Noel said.
Tony stood. “Yeah, same here. Root Beer is ready to move on anyway.” He held on to the leash that strained as the dog tried to wander off.
“Bye, Root Beer. You’re still a cutie,” Lyrissa called out. “I’ll give you a call,” Tony said in a low tone and kissed her cheek. “Nice meeting you.”
“Same here,” Noel lied. He watched the man stroll away, and then turned his attention to Lyrissa. “I brought a delicious lunch.”
She watched the man walk away. “Thanks.”
Noel sat next to her with an unpleasant, and unfamiliar, knot of jealousy in his gut. “Seems like a nice guy.”
“He is. You want to eat first and then go into the museum gallery?” Lyrissa nodded toward the gray stone building nearby.
“Yes. Uh, you take classes with him?” Noel said in a casual tone.
“Tony is a high-powered businessman. He’s in the MBA program at Tulane. He’s not into the ‘artsy stuff,’ as he calls it.” Lyrissa laughed and shook her head. She gazed in the direction the man had gone.
“Kind of short-sighted, I’d say.” Noel didn’t like the man. Tony had made Lyrissa laugh the way she’d never laughed with him.
“Takes all kinds, as they say. Tony is a real success story. You know, came out of the most notorious housing project and excelled in school. He’s going places. I really admire him.” Lyrissa accepted the sandwich wrapped in waxed paper he handed her.
“Impressive,” Noel said, his throat tight. “Not like me, you mean, born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Had everything handed to me?”
“I didn’t mean that at all.”
“Right,” he replied shortly. “Here’s a Barq’s cream soda.”
“Thanks. Tony gives back to the community. He could have just made his escape and not looked back.”
“Unlike spoiled rich kids who spend their time and money with expensive toys?” Noel said.
Lyrissa glanced at him sideways. “You seem kinda irritable. Having a bad day, or something?”
“I’m fine. Just wonderful.”
“Okay.” Lyrissa shrugged.
Noel tore into the pita sandwich, even though his appetite was gone. What the hell did Tony Tate have that was so magical? Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Birds sang, people passing by talked, but the only sound between them was the rustle of paper as they unwrapped the food. Noel swallowed hard to move the lump in his throat. What had just happened? He didn’t like this new set of feelings at all.
“Pretty good,” Lyrissa said.
“What?” He blinked at her. It was not good at all, he thought.
“Aladdin’s has the best Lebanese food around.” She patted her mouth with a paper napkin.
“Oh yeah, the food.” Noel put his half-eaten sandwich in the bag.
Lyrissa craned her neck to peek at his food. “You didn’t eat much.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Noel mumbled.
“Well, if you don’t want those chips, give ’em to me.”
She took the yellow bag without waiting for an answer.
“Oh please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He frowned at her.
She munched on a crunchy chip for several seconds. “I know you will. You’re Noel St. Denis.”
“Which means?” He used aggressive swipes to wipe his hands with a napkin.
“You’re rich, part of a powerful family—and, some would say, handsome.” Lyrissa glanced at him and shrugged.
“Matter of opinion, huh?” Noel had never been insecure, but her attitude was disconcerting.
The game wasn’t going according to plan. Her words stung him like dozens of tiny wasps. In the past he would have brushed them off and changed tactics. This time his emotions seemed to be involved. Bad sign.
“Sorry, but you do have a certain rep, you know.”
“I accept that moving apology,” he retorted.
“No, I really mean it. I’m sorry.” Lyrissa put a hand out. “Truce?”
He took it and the warmth from her satin soft skin made his body hum. “Truce.” They ate in silence for a while longer before Noel cleared his throat. “So you’re dating this guy?”
“We dated for a while. Then he moved to Atlanta and the long distance thing didn’t work. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Noel ignored the swipe. “So you’re not dating now.” “Not for a while. But we might in the future,” Lyrissa added quickly with a look at him.
Noel’s sour mood began to lift. She wasn’t telling the truth, he could hear it in her tone. The sunshine that had dimmed was now bright again. They were back on familiar ground now. She was playing his game, pretending an old boyfriend meant more than he did. He tried to ignore just how happy that thought made him feel. His joy was deeper than he wanted to examine at the moment.
“I got ya.” He beamed at her. “You ready to go inside?” He nodded toward the gallery.
Lyrissa eyed him with suspicion, but gave him an answering nod. “Sure.”
They tossed their litter in a nearby trashcan, and then entered the cool interior of the building. Large paintings were arranged along the wall in the main gallery. A few art lovers milled around. Some were seated on cushioned benches.
“The figurines are this way.” Noel led her to another room with glass display cases arranged around the floor.
Lyrissa drew in her breath as they approached the first one. “It’s fabulous.”
“Yes, it is.”
The first figurine was of a Black woman and child. They were dressed in Sunday finery. The little boy wore a blue suit with short pants. The woman wore a pale pink dress and a wide brimmed hat. The hand painted clay had been glazed to make it look like fine china.
“The artist seems to have breathed life into them.” Lyrissa circled the case. “Look at the expression on the mother’s face. So tender.”
Noel had seen pictures of them before, but he’d never really looked at them. Her excitement was contagious. Lyrissa wandered from case to case.
“Jean-Claude Atier is the artist. He was the son of a wealthy white planter and a placage, his mulatto mistress. Their father was said to have doted on them all, especially Jean-Claude.” Lyrissa lectured as she walked.
“He was obviously very talented.” Noel followed her, content to let her lead. He enjoyed seeing the gleam in her eyes.
“Look at the detail, the warmth in these figures.”
Noel laughed. “You sound like he was an old friend of yours.”
“I feel like I know him. He put so mu
ch of himself into his creations.”
Noel’s heart toned over. “I see what you mean,” he mumbled in a thick voice. Cold air rushed in when she went to another display case. He followed, eager to recapture her warmth.
“This figure is actually as much a political statement.” She admired a sculpture of a small Black boy dressed in ragged clothes.
“I don’t see anything more than a kid playing in the dirt.”
“This piece was done in 1839, during slavery. He’s got a tiny book hidden under his shirt. Jean-Claude protested laws preventing Blacks from receiving a decent education.”
He leaned closer to peer at the child. “Hey, you’re right.”
“In fact, a lot of Jean-Claude’s figures make a statement about his values and beliefs. Take this figure of a blacksmith...”
Lyrissa went through each of the twenty-six figures. She examined them with an eye toward history as well as aesthetics. Noel was content to trail after her as a willing student. Illogical as it seemed, he was happy to be an indirect source of her enjoyment. It occurred to him that he could spend hours watching her eyes light up with discovery.
Lyrissa sighed with satisfaction after they’d finished their tour. They took a seat on a bench in the gallery. Their vantage point gave them a view of the entire room.
“Congratulations, Mr. St Denis. Every one of these is a wonderful example of Jean-Claude’s best work.”
“I can’t take credit. I just happen to be born into the right family.” Noel grinned. “The truth is I never appreciated it all until you came along.”
“Oh, the privileges of the rich and famous.” Lyrissa lifted her nose in the air and imitated an upper-class snooty tone. “So many treasures, how can one take it seriously?”
“Cut it out I don’t walk around like that.”
“I was thinking of Julie. ‘Noel, pick me up in the Lexus 400 next time. The Mercedes is so out of style.’ ” Lyrissa pitched her voice in a whiny tone.
“Meow, your claws are showing!”
She batted her eyelashes in the same way Julie did. Noel laughed at her antics. Then his expression softened. The skin on her face looked like creamy caramel. He caressed her cheek with his forefinger. Surprise, then fascination, flitted across her face as she stared back at him. Lyrissa leaned forward in a clear invitation. At least, he took it as one. Noel met her halfway and brushed his lips against hers. It was a delicious appetizer that sharpened his hunger for more. Their surroundings faded into the background. Her mouth was like a warm marshmallow, sweet and pliant. Lyrissa rested both hands on his chest. Noel pulled her into his arms completely. The tender kiss became urgent as need pounded him like a hammer. He planted small kisses along her jaw line, and then moved to her neck.
Noel wanted to get out of his clothes. Better yet, he wanted to get into hers. One kiss had sent him right over the edge. Hard as a rock, he shook like a hormone-crazed teenage boy. Desire twirled him up into a whirlwind that took his breath away.
“Ah-ah-hem!”
“Young folks grope each other anywhere these days, Mabel!”
Noel and Lyrissa jumped apart and looked around. Two elderly women stood in the doorway. Lyrissa put a hand over her eyes. Noel forced a weak smile. The women shook their heads in unison and walked around the display cases. Yet they glanced over their shoulders at Lyrissa and Noel.
“I think we’ve made their day,” Noel whispered, close to Lyrissa’s ear.
Lyrissa sprang from the bench like a pretty bird taking flight. Noel almost had to run to catch her. He tried to pull her against him again.
“No, let me go.” Lyrissa seemed frantic to escape.
“Those two ladies got a cheap thrill. So what?” Noel smiled softly. Still she struggled to get away.
“Cheap is exactly how I feel.” Lyrissa yanked free and strode out of the museum.
Noel went after her. She stood underneath an oak with her back to him. He approached but did not try to touch her again, much as he wanted to.
“What are you talking about, Lyrissa?” he said quietly.
She closed her eyes. “I know about you and I still fell for it.”
“What do you think you know about me?”
“This city is littered with women you’ve dumped.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“Is it?” Lyrissa wore a hard expression as she stared at him.
Noel had never thought of his romantic life as a whole. It seemed to flash before his eyes in an instant. Women’s faces whizzed by at high speed. He’d done his share of dating over the years. Yet he hadn’t thought of himself as callous. He considered himself honest, straight up. There were no whispered declarations of love or promises made in the dark to haunt him.
“Yes, I’ve broken up with women before. Sometimes it was mutual.” Noel shoved both hands in his pants pockets. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Pleading guilty, huh?” Lyrissa folded her arms.
“You didn’t seem to mind that kiss,” Noel said.
She visibly relaxed. “Well, I—you caught me off guard.”
“Come on, Lyrissa. Tell the truth.” Noel leaned closer to her.
“It shouldn’t have happened.” She moved away from him. “This is strictly business.”
“Not anymore,” he said promptly.
“Yes, it is.” She put more space between them.
“Okay, okay. It was my fault for giving in to temptation. I apologize.” Noel ignored a raging need to taste her again.
“We’re not going there again. Got that?”
“Listen, Lyrissa—”
“No.” Lyrissa shook her head.
“Why?”
“Because.” She wore a stubborn expression.
“Can you be a bit more specific?” Noel tilted his head to one side.
“There are a lot of reasons.”
“Name one.” He smiled at her.
“We’re too different. That kiss was a mistake, a silly impulse.” Her lovely eyes narrowed. “You set the whole thing up when you asked me to meet you here. I should have known.”
“No, I didn’t—honestly,” he added, when she gave a skeptical snort. “I was just as surprised as you.”
“Planned or not, it won’t happen again.”
“We’re not that different.” Noel gazed at her.
“Tell your family that,” she tossed back.
“My family doesn’t have anything to do with it, okay?’ Noel said quietly. “Have dinner with me.” The words were the second time he’d surprised himself today.
Lyrissa returned his gaze. “That would be another mistake,” she replied just as softly.
Noel sighed with pleasure at the enticing sound o her voice. She hadn’t said no outright. He got up and walked to her until they were only inches apart. “I’ll pick you up tonight around seven. I’ve got a late meeting. Please?”
“I don’t think—”
“We’ll talk about art, if that makes you feel better,” h teased with a half-smile. He touched her hand lightly. “What’s your address?”
She didn’t look away from his eyes. For what seemed forever they stared at each other. Noel held his breath. All sounds around them seemed muffled as he waited for her answer.
“Six sixty-seven Erato Avenue,” Lyrissa murmured.
Noel started to steal another kiss, but the anxiety in her eyes stopped him. “Okay,” he said.
They parted and he walked back to his car. Noel wanted to believe his happiness came from the thrill of victory. He’d melted her resistance. Still, he had never experienced such intense anticipation of a first date. The shadow of her alluring smile followed him for the rest of the afternoon.
Julie sat across from Carlton with both elbows propped on the arms of her chair. She tapped the toe of her Ferragamo pump on the floor. “Noel is spending way too much time chasing this art thing.”
“Humm, did you go over the report from Andre yet?” Carlton was engrossed in a memo on his des
k.
“I’ve read it twice. You know the art sale should be handled correctly. We talked about that, remember?” Julie shifted in her seat.
“I’ve got the claims projections. I assume you talked to our accountant.”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Carlton nodded.
“I don’t like it.” Julie said.
“The claims report?”
“The way Noel is following that Rideau woman around like a puppy,” Julie said.
“Let Noel waste his time on some flighty scheme. At least it will keep him out of my hair for a while.”
“It’s not a flighty scheme. A lot of large corporations buy art and sell it. It’s totally legitimate to use art as an asset,” she said defensively.
“You stick up for him no matter what.” Carlton gazed it her over steepled fingers.
“Noel isn’t plotting to cut you out of the company,
Carlton. He’s only doing what he thinks is best.” Julie lifted her chin.
“I suppose that’s your totally objective assessment.” Carlton grunted to emphasize his cynicism.
“Stop being paranoid. Noel hasn’t made any kind of move against you. The three of us can take this place to the top again.” Julie leaned forward with an intense expression
“I feel so secure knowing you two are behind me,’ Carlton retorted.
“This childish rivalry is a waste of energy. The board made him CEO. Deal with it like a grown-up.”
“He’s CEO for now,” Carlton said bitterly.
“Dream on. Noel has added the right color to this place, black ink on the balance sheets and lots of green in the bank. Compete with that!” Julie said with pride.
“He’s not exactly the golden boy. He’s made mistakes, Carlton complained.
“You’re no shining example. I know about that stun you pulled with the board.”
“Julie, you don’t know anything about me.” Carlton lip curled, making his wide face even less appealing.
“Don’t I? You wanted to have Miss Georgina declare incompetent.” Julie smiled at the effect of her words. “O yes, somebody squealed.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Anyone will talk if the right amount of pressure is applied. You didn’t even wait a good twenty-four hours after she was admitted to the hospital last year.” She crossed her shapely legs.