Temptation. Donna Hill

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.”

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