Донна Хилл – Temptation (страница 3)

Noelle’s voice quivered. “He’s only been gone a year. I…I just couldn’t…He was my life, my world. He…”

“He was just a man, Noelle,” Tempest said gently. “Just a man. Not the god that everyone, including you, made him out to be. I can’t believe that Jordan would want you to remain alone for the rest of your life. He groomed you to be a part of the world, not just the world that he created.”

Noelle lowered her eyes, struggling to fight back the tears that burned her eyes and seared her throat.

Her life had changed irrevocably. It was due to Jordan. Everything that she had, what she was, what she thought, was because of Jordan. He’d rescued her, brought new meaning to her life, gave her reason to want to get up everyday.

He’d turned her life around and now he was gone. He’d left her to deal with this evil, hungry world alone. To face his enemies that would just as soon help her as stab her in the back.

Five years ago, sweating in her aunt Chantal’s tiny café, darting the grubby hands of the male customers she would have never imagined that her life could have ever been any different. Not until the moment that Jordan Maxwell walked into her life. Since that day nothing in her life had ever been the same.

Forever would she recall the way he looked at her when he walked through those doors….

Chapter 2

“Noelle! Stop daydreaming,” her aunt Chantal ordered. “We have customers.”

Chantal wiped her hands on the once-white apron, and shook her head in annoyance.

“For a woman of eighteen, you sometimes act like an enfant,” she sputtered, tossing up her hands. “Get your head out of the clouds. There’s no knight waiting to rescue a poor orphan girl like you. This is your life, chère.”

Chantal marched off toward the kitchen, demanding and instructing all who came in her path.

Noelle sighed deeply, knowing all too well that her aunt was right. This was her life. Here in the bayou of New Orleans, forever at the disposal of someone else.

She knew her aunt meant well, even when her words were harsh. Chantal had immediately taken in Noelle when her mother, Vivian, had died. And Chantal had given her a home. With her father’s whereabouts unknown, Chantal became the only family Noelle had. Being Vivian’s older sister, Chantal felt it her duty to take in her niece. But not without a price.

Noelle had to drop out of school in order to work in Chantal’s café. Her aunt felt that an education was a waste of time. Once a person knew how to add, subtract and read the alphabet, school was useless. Common sense and a strong back would be how Noelle would make her way in the world.

Noelle had missed her school years. She missed her friends, she missed her youth. She felt doomed to a life of hard work and poverty.

Many nights she’d lie awake imagining beautiful clothes, a house that didn’t always smell of gumbo, and a wonderful husband who adored her. Dreams. But her aunt was right. Who would want her? She had nothing and would never be anything more than a poor, orphaned waitress.

She pulled her shoulder-length hair behind her ears and walked out of the supply room into the small café.

As usual, the dinner crowd had packed the café. Although, Chantal’s was on the outskirts of the city, patrons came from far and wide to sample the renowned cuisine.

Noelle put on her trained smile and began her routine of checking on customers and seating the incoming diners.

After seating one of her regular customers, she returned to her station at the door, and there stood Jordan Maxwell.

Immediately she knew that this man was different from all of the others. His clothing spoke of wealth, his posture indicated confidence and his smile was warm and inviting, not like the leers that she was used to.

“Bon soir, monsieur. May I help you?”

“I hope so,” he answered in a voice that vibrated through her like currents on the shore.

She felt suddenly nervous, and childlike under his steady gaze. She lowered her eyes, focusing them on her notepad.

“Will you be dining alone?” Irrationally she hoped that he was.

“Fortunately.”

Her head snapped up in question. Her face was hot with embarrassment, as if he’d read her mind. “Pardon?”

Jordan chuckled at her discomfiture while enjoying the lilt of her creole accent. “Fortunately, because I hope that you may be able to join me.”

“Oh, no, monsieur,” she mumbled, both flattered and afraid. Nervously she looked around for her aunt. “That is not possible.”

“Maybe not now. But you will. Perhaps next time,” he said, fully confident that it would be a reality.

Jordan looked at the lovely young woman and smiled. He was used to having what he wanted and from the moment he set eyes on Noelle, and saw the spark of eager intelligence in her eyes and the pride with which she wore her stained uniform, he determined that she would be his.

“In the meantime, I’d like a table and a bottle of your best wine—to toast the occasion of our meeting.”

Noelle felt her heart flutter. She didn’t know which way to look. Instead she turned and quickly guided him to a vacant table near the piano.

For the balance of the evening, she consciously avoided going near Jordan’s table. But it didn’t stop him from following her with his eyes.

Throughout the night, each time that Noelle dared to look in his direction, he raised his glass in a toast. Then, in an instant, without warning, he was gone.

Several months passed and Noelle didn’t see Jordan again. But she couldn’t seem to forget him or the way he’d made her young heart feel. Special. No one had ever done that before. Each time that she strolled through the teeming New Orleans streets, she thought she spotted him in the crowd. At night she dreamed of his face. The strong caramel features, wide dark eyes and hair that reminded her of the first sprinklings of snow.

Then, when she was beginning to believe that seeing him again was an impossibility, he reappeared one steamy night in August.

Noelle saw him standing in the doorway. A flood of heat swept through her and for several moments she stood immobile, unwilling to believe that he had returned. She willed her legs to move.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember,” he said, his deep timbre thrilling her.

No one like him had ever called her beautiful. She smiled in response.

Her heart raced. “What brings you back after so long, monsieur?”

He took her hand in his. “I thought you’d be ready to have dinner with me now.”

Noelle felt her body tremble. She quickly looked around the café. She spotted her aunt scowling at her from the rear.

She looked up at him, her eyes begging him to understand. “Please, monsieur, my aunt…” She looked over her shoulder.

Jordan looked beyond Noelle and spotted Chantal.

“Let’s tell your aunt that you’ll be leaving.” Gently, he pulled Noelle behind him and walked up to Chantal.

That was the last day that Noelle worked in the café. Jordan had smoothly convinced Chantal that her niece had the potential to achieve wonderful things, and he was going to be sure that she did. In exchange for Noelle’s services, Jordan dutifully sent a very large check to Chantal each month, which seemed to appease her. However, it was difficult for Chantal to believe that a man like Jordan Maxwell could see any value in her meek, little niece. But if he was willing to pay for Noelle’s absence, who was she to argue? Perhaps Jordan saw something in Noelle that she, herself, had missed all of these years. She could only hope that Noelle would be happy in her new life.

For a man who had conquered every obstacle in his life, Noelle was a new challenge for Jordan. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his soul, Jordan saw in her a part of him that was missing. Her naïveté intrigued him. She didn’t have a greedy, or pretentious bone in her body. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known. But he knew that in order to fit into his world she would have to be molded as a sculptor models clay into a work of art.

Noelle was instantly caught up in Jordan’s vision of what he wanted for her. His dream became hers. She was overwhelmed by his expectations, thrilled at the possibilities yet frightened of the doors that he intended to open for her.

“You have talents that you have yet to discover,” he’d said to her. “I intend to bring them to the forefront for all of the world to see.”

The first step in her transformation was her education. Jordan hired private tutors to help refine her speech and catch up on her studies. Studies that were conducted in the cozy apartment that he’d selected for Noelle. With that completed, he sent her to the University of Virginia, where she’d met Tempest and Braxton. Her graduate work took place in Europe, Africa, the Orient. She purchased her leather from Italy, her jewels from Africa, her silks from Hong Kong. She visited the finest haute couture houses in Paris.

Noelle didn’t have time to think about what was happening to her. She felt as though she were in some magical dream world where Jordan was the magician who could make anything happen. But Jordan was a hard taskmaster. “Can’t” was not in his vocabulary. He demanded perfection from everyone around him, and accepted no excuses for anything less. He readily used ridicule as a weapon to propel you. Ultimately you produced, if for no other reason than to prove him wrong. In the end, you achieved what you thought was impossible, and secretly you thanked Jordan. He, in turn, received your loyalty.