Authors: Liz Talley
Tess helped him out. “Ron isn't gay. He's just an indiscriminate flirt. Always chasing that tip.”
Ron lifted a shoulder. “I never said I was gay.”
“You implied it,” Graham said.
“No, you made an assumption based on my comment regarding men in baseball pants.” Ron's eyes danced with laughter. He loved flipping stereotypes.
“Ron has a twisted sense of humor,” Tess said, finishing off her gimlet. The crisp taste and slight buzz made her feel invincible. Or maybe that was due to the fact she'd picked up a hot guy in a bar. Okay, only for dinner, but even so, she felt better about her crap day with Granny B who had ended it by declaring Tess would never see a single piece of jewelry in her will. “Do you want to order stuffed mushrooms? If so, we better put in an order. Daryl's slow.”
“Hey, good food requires patience,” Ron said.
Graham centered his attention on her. “Let's roll. I'm hungry for more than an appetizer.”
“Meow,” Ron purred, before moseying toward a customer at the other end of the bar.
Tess's cheeks blistered even though she knew it was a joke.
Graham's gaze slid over her, lingering particularly on her mouth. Tess licked her lips before she could catch herselfâand he definitely noted the movement. “I'm not familiar with the Marigny area so I don't know any restaurants close by.”
“I'm not dressed overly nice, so we better stick to casual.” Tess glanced outside. “Looks like the rain is gone and the stars are out. Why don't we walk toward the Quarter? It's not far and you know there's something there to tickle the fancy.”
Tess hopped off the stool, tossing a ten and five on the bar to cover her drink and give Ron a decent tip. Joanne had only a month to go until she delivered their first child, and money was tight for the couple.
“I'll defer to the local.” Graham withdrew a credit card and drummed his fingers on the bar while Ron slid the card through the machine. Then he stood, lifting an attaché case. “Let me lock this in my rental and we'll head out.”
“Have fun, you two,” Ron called holding up his bar towel and giving it a wave.
And so Tess walked out of Two-Legged Pete's with a good-looking man and the expectation for good food, good wine...and maybe something more.
Or maybe she wanted it to be more than what it was.
Either way, it was better than watching
The Bachelor.
CHAPTER TWO
G
RAHAM
N
AQUIN
POPPED
the trunk of the Chevy Malibu and placed his briefcase inside, slamming the lid with finality.
So...he'd picked up a random chick in a bar.
Outside his current comfort zone in a huge way. In fact, it was something he'd vowed not to do for a while. His focus was on getting his crap together.
In the past couple of months, he'd abandoned the impulsive, carefree Graham, electing to play everything safe. Hadn't worked all that well for him so far, but he liked thinking he was a man who considered every decision thoroughly before moving forward. But tonight he hadn't even tried to apply the brakes. Nope. He'd tossed out that white lie about Sadie Hawkins and backed it up with re-extending the offer for dinner.
He almost felt like himself again...like lady luck winked at him and dealt him a winning hand. Like things were going his way finally.
Smiling at Tess, trying like hell to convince himself an impulsive dinner date was a good idea, he waved an arm in the direction of the French Quarter. “Lead on.”
In the damp air, Tess's beach-streaked hair had curled around cheeks scattered with freckles. Her eyes were the color of wet moss, and not much about her implied overt sexiness. More like friendly puppy or kid sister.
Okay. Not exactly friendly puppy. Or sister.
Tess also had full lips and a stubborn chin. Her perfectly-proportioned breasts were nicely outlined in her sweater and her caboose was tight. She wore those weird brown boots all the teenagers wore and jeans that looked comfy and trendy at the same time. She smelled like applesâsort of fresh and fruity. She had an all-American vibe, but there lay a promise in the sway of her hips, a hint of mystery in her smile. Tess reminded him of that one Christmas he'd found a forgotten present beneath the tree.
She'd sucked him in, stretched him outside his intentions...and damned if he wasn't intrigued by the connection between them. It felt like something he'd never felt before. Or maybe he was on a high from nailing his interview.
“Wish I were dressed nicer so we could go somewhere swanky,” she said as they fell in step on the deserted sidewalk.
“I see how you roll,” he said, laughing when her eyes widened.
“No, I'll totally pay for my own dinner. It's just you're dressed nice and if it's been a while since you've been to New Orleans...”
“I come to New Orleans often enough...just not since November. Besides, New Orleans is a city where even the cheap eats are good.” Graham looked back toward the edge of the Marigny District, spotting the huge warehouse he'd toured that afternoon in the distance. Something warm and right settled in his gut at the thought of returning to his first love. The sound of tugboats blowing their horns on the Mississippi echoed the certainty in his soul.
“So a job interview brings you to the Big Easy?” Tess asked. The puddles along the worn streets tossed back reflections of the buildings. Occasionally someone rode by on a bike or a cab passed as the rhythm of the city reestablished itself after the early spring rain. The squeal of brakes, the rev of engines and the occasional shout of laughter accompanied the music spilling into the streets. The earthy smell of New Orleans which had once been like bacon and eggs to him filled his nose.
“Yeah, I worked for NASA for six years, but with all the federal cuts, my project was canned. Since I have to relocate, I wanted to come home. Something called me.”
“That's almost romantic,” she said.
“Except it was an actual phone call,” he said, with a wry smile. No one had ever accused him of being romantic.
Her laughter tightened something within him. He glanced at her profile. Her nose tilted up, button cute. He liked that. Cute. Like he could drop kisses on it all night. Then and there, he revised his earlier impression. There
was
something sexy about Tess.
“Did you get the job?”
“Not yet, but I have a good shot because I have experience in the field. Years ago I started a company doing what this guy does, plus I got my MBA on top of my engineering degree. But who knows? Felt like the interview went well and the guy's pressed to find someone soon.”
“Good for you,” she said, tossing him a smile. “Where do you live now?”
“Houston.”
“So you'll be transferring here?”
He nodded. “I have some job leads in Houston, but my family lives here. Well, my brother lives on the Northshore, but that's essentially here. You originally a New Orleans's girl?”
“Born and raised. Can't you hear the accent?”
Each region of the Crescent City had its own dialect. “Not from the Westbank or New Orleans East. Uptown?”
“Close enough. My parents still live in Old Metairie.”
“I went to Jesuit. You?”
“Country Day.” Whoa, swanky, yet Tess didn't give off that vibe.
“Class of '93.”
Tess whipped her head around. Obviously the woman excelled in math. “Then why did you tell Angela you took me to Sadie Hawkins in '97?”
He laughed. “Because you didn't look old enough to have gone in 1993.”
“So you thought you looked young enough for 1997?” She laughed again. Her laugh was low and raspy. Another thing he liked about her.
“Touché,” he conceded as they turned on Decatur Street, skirting the edge of the eclectic, high-rent neighborhood. “So where shall we eat?”
“You have a favorite?”
“I have lots of favorites.” And he did. Galatoire's. Dickie Brennan's. Elizabeth's. Irene's. GW Fins. And on and on and on. “Somewhere with a good po'boy? Haven't had good Nawlins bread in forever.”
“Central Grocery is closed but we can try Maspero.”
“Let's go for it.”
She turned her head again and he wondered if she thought he'd meant on some level other than dinner. Maybe he did mean it that way. Things had been so stressful lately with being out of work, depleting his savings and dealing with Monique's demands he'd pulled out of the dating scene months ago. He hadn't been to dinner with a woman in a while...not counting his brother's girlfriend the night before.
What would it hurt?
Tess had nice curves, a good sense of humor and kept baseball stats. Not to mention she'd agreed to go to dinner with a stranger. Many would think her actions dangerous, and maybe to an extent they were, but something about her spontaneity and her self-assurance struck admiration in him. He liked a woman who knew what she wanted, who didn't shrink from the fray, but waded in bold and in control of herself.
She reminded him of his ex-girlfriend Monique in that wayâdecisive and thoroughly modern. But that's where the comparison ended. Tess had a sweetness and honesty Monique lacked. He patted his breast pocket where he usually put his phone. Thinking of Monique reminded him of their daughterâhe needed to call Emily before nine o'clock.
As they got closer to Maspero which sat across from Jackson Brewery, almost on the corner of infamous Jackson Square, the crowds thickened. Tourism reigned supreme in New Orleans. Here and there tourists gawked at street performers while others swigged beers in foam cups and eyed the open storefronts selling offensive T-shirts and Mardi Gras beads.
When they arrived at the restaurant, they found a short line. Graham gave the hostess his name and then motioned to the bar with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Yeah. Abita Amber,” Tess shouted, a warm smile curving her mouth.
That smile made him forget all his troubles. He needed to recapture his previous mood. He'd nailed the interviewâhe'd read that much in the old man's face. Graham had been in the zone, dressed to impress with the knowledge to back up his proposals. Everything in New Orleans was falling in place. Including getting his social life on track.
Stop overthinking and walk toward good things in life, Graham.
He paid and went outside, handing the icy beer to Tess, clinking the bottle with his. “To new beginnings.”
“And to your new job.”
“I'll drink to that,” he said, lifting the bottle to his lips. In that instant he felt something swell in him he hadn't felt in so long, not since he'd left New Orleans six years ago. Maybe it was joy. Or freedom. Or both. He wasn't sure which it was, but he embraced the warmth, that feeling of possibility. All that lay withered inside him revived, swelling to life with sweetness.
After cashing out his 401K last month so Emily could continue going to the Montessori school she'd been attending for the past two years, he needed to feel good about something. To chase hope of a better future and pin it down.
Ten minutes later his name was called and they slid into wooden chairs at a table facing the floor-to-ceiling doors looking out on Toulouse Street. Passersby strolled, collars up against the wind sweeping in with the cool front. A slight draft wafted in but it wasn't enough to keep them from picking up the menu.
“I already know I'm blowing my diet on a shrimp po'boy,” Tess said licking her lips, a move that heated his blood.
What would she taste like?
Apples?
Or something spicier perhaps?
“And maybe some gumbo, too. Suddenly I'm starving.” She looked up at him.
Yeah. Him, too.
He cleared his throat and tried to tame his desire for her. This wasn't a date...or maybe it was. He wasn't sure what they were doing.
“You don't have to buy my dinner,” Tess said, with a little shake of her head. “This isn't really a date.”
“It's not?” he asked.
“I don't think so. Maybe it is.” She gave a wry twist of her lips. “In all honestly, I don't know why I said I'd go to dinner with you. You're a total stranger.”
“It's not that different than meeting someone from a dating website if you think about it. In fact, it's almost like an old-fashioned date. Two people meet, they're attracted to one another, and then theyâ”
“You're attracted to me?” she asked. A faint pink bloomed in her cheeks and the refreshingly honest question made him like her even more. And he already had a healthy like for her. “Yeah, that sounded sort of middle-schoolish. Been hanging out with my nephews too much.”
“Actually I thought it was understood I'm attracted to you. Otherwise I'd be sharing stuffed mushrooms and wings with Angela and the girls.”
“Well, good to know. I'm pretty hungry but I'd hate to think this was a mercy date.”
“Far from it,” he said, unable to contain the desire he had for her.
His salacious gaze didn't put her off. In fact she smiled wider before turning to the waitress.
After they ordered po'boys and a cup of gumbo, a comfortable silence descended. He took the time to study her. Her eyes weren't really the color of moss so much as the color of a magnolia leaf: rich, fertile green. The freckles weren't overly pronounced, merely sprinkled across her rounded cheekbones. She had delicate eyebrows and small earlobes from which winked simple solitaire diamonds.
Tess cleared her throat. “So if this is a
date,
you should tell me more about yourself. I know you went to Jesuit, grew up here and worked for NASA, but what about your...hobbies?”
“Hobbies?”
Tess made a face. “That lame, huh? Guess I have issues with uncomfortable silence.”
“Felt like a comfortable silence to me.”
“Really? Hmm...” She smiled, opening a package of crackers from the bowl on the table. “Sorry. Should have taken Angela up on the appetizers. I'm starving.”
He'd been eyeing the crackers himself, so he mimicked her. “Me, too, but I didn't want to look like I had no self-control.”
“No sense in standing on ceremony. As my nephews say,
YOLO.
”
He crooked an eyebrow.
“You Only Live Once,” she clarified.
Perfect reason to ignore the flicker of logic edging in on his good time with Tess. YOLO. He liked that. “Okay, a little about me. I read the newspaper every morning, don't have a Facebook account, like dogs over cats, have a seven-year-old daughter and I'm a Scorpio.”
“You have a daughter?”
“Somehow I knew that would stand out to you. Yeah, Emily. She's beautiful, smart and can tie her own shoes. Big accomplishment. She lives here in New Orleans with her mother and I don't see her often. Another reason I want to move back.”
“Wow, a kid, huh?”
“Deal breaker for you?”
“No, I've just never dated a guy with a kid. Not that we're dating. This is a special circumstance. Or something.”
“Or something. But we're going with it, right?”
“Definitely. I'm having fun.”
The waitress arrived with their gumbo, and with unspoken agreement they dug in. The gumbo was decent and minutes later both cups were empty.
Graham pushed his bowl to the side. “So tell me about you.”
“Nothing special. Graduated from Carnegie-Mellon in industrial art design, work for my dad's company and live in a loft in the Warehouse district. I ride a bike to work most days and I do the
New York Times
crossword puzzle every Sunday even if it takes me until lunch. I don't have children, pets or a lactose intolerance. Big Italian family, no ties to mafia, though my brother likes to infer it.”
“The priest?”
“No, the surgeon.”
“Accomplished family,” he murmured.
“Exactly what my father expects. I'm the baby of the family and the only girl. I have three older brothers who excel at their careers, but I'm the only one who followed in my father's footsteps.”
“
Three
older brothers?” He feigned loosening his collar.
She laughed as the waitress set huge po'boys in front of them. “You don't have to worry. They're all my size and busy with families. I see them only at Sunday dinner. Now Granny B, she's the one you should worry about. She once accosted the mailman for being cheeky.”