His Forever Girl

Was this a good idea?

Tess wondered if she really should extend this impromptu date with another drink. It was Monday and she needed to be at work early. But, even though Graham had a kid and felt not so much her normal type, she had this crazy, weird connection with him. She couldn’t not stay.

And it had been a long time since she had no-strings-attached fun with a hot guy.

When their round of drinks arrived, Graham clinked his glass against hers. “I’m glad you stayed. Feels as though we’re dancing around—”

“Hooking up?”

He gave her a serious look. “Is this what we’re doing? Hooking up?”

Heck, she didn’t know. But this night with Graham felt right. It felt like something more than just fun. It felt like magic. Like Graham was her perfect match. “Maybe.”

Moving slowly he lightly brushed her lips with his. Her pulse sped at the first touch, and she leaned in for more. She knew with absolute clarity that she didn’t want just one night with Graham.

His Forever Girl

Liz Talley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A 2009 Golden Heart Award finalist in Regency romance, LIZ TALLEY has since found a home writing sassy Southern stories. In her current books, she’s visiting one of her favorite cities—New Orleans. Liz lives in north Louisiana with her hero, two beautiful boys and a large number of animals. She enjoys laundry, paying bills and creating masterful dinners for her family. She also lies in her biography to make herself look like the perfect housewife. What she really likes is new shoes, lemon-drop martinis and fishing off the pier at her camp. You can visit her at www.liztalleybooks.com to learn more about the lies she tells herself, and about her upcoming books.

Special thanks to the Elsensohns at Mardi Gras Decorators for sharing the business aspects of Mardi Gras.

This book is dedicated to my nieces and nephews— Audrey, Ava, Sam, Davey, Mikayla, Byron, Christian and Devvin. I don’t always see you, but I carry you in my heart.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

TESS ULLO SLID ONTO a stool and knocked her knuckles against the weathered bar. “The usual, Ron. Stat.”

The bartender with ripped biceps and a sweet smile sauntered over. “That kind a day, hon?”

“God, yes.” Taking Granny B to the doctor and running all the errands the older woman had piled up on her list wasn’t for the faint of heart. Tess’s Italian grandmother wasn’t of the sweet variety—more like the salty-with-a-side-of-vinegar kind. For seven hours, Tess had “helped” her grandmother find a bath mat the perfect shade of periwinkle. All that running around came after hearing Granny B tell the technician doing the mammogram about her sex life with Tess’s long-departed grandfather. Tess would never look at the picture of the stern-faced man dressed in his Navy uniform in quite the same way. Scarred wasn’t even the word for what she felt. “Took Granny B out today.”

“Yikes. I’ll make it a double,” Ron said with a twinkle in his eye.

Tess gave a wave to Petra Ostrav who worked in the paint department at Tess’s family company. The diminutive woman sat close to her lover, Paola, a beautiful Chilean dancer who headlined at a top-notch gentleman’s club. Otherwise there were not many patrons on this late Monday afternoon. Maybe it was the weather—misty rain fell outside the open plantation windows of the bar located not far from the French Quarter in the Marigny district. Or maybe the small crowd was because it was Lent and the devout were being, well, devout.

Two-Legged Pete’s was a regular joint for the employees of Frank Ullo Float Builders—owned and operated by Tess’s father—so she usually knew someone when she dropped by. Of course, she’d been a more frequent patron at Pete’s recently since Mardi Gras was over and she’d stopped seeing her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Nick. She’d caught him with Merri Wynn right after Christmas. Nick had defended himself by claiming they weren’t exclusive, but Tess didn’t care. Still felt like a slap after they’d spent the previous weekend talking about a possible future together.

Her phone buzzed and she slid it from her purse. The text was from Gigi Vastola, her best friend.

Can’t get away from the office. Sorry, babe.

Damn it.

Tess had wanted some girl time with her bestie, but she understood. Gigi worked with a law firm on Canal Street, climbing the ladder toward partnership, which meant her friend often got trapped after hours preparing cases. No biggie. They’d catch up later. Tess would have one drink then maybe head to spinning class...or home to watch The Bachelor.

The door opened and Tess caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. She cocked her head and looked—like everyone else in Two-Legged Pete’s—at the man in a raincoat shouldering his way in. A navy suit and a conservative tie showed beneath the black trench. He sported a fresh haircut and had a jaw of granite.

Nice.

But very out of place for a casual joint like Pete’s.

Tess snuck a peek at her middle-of-the-week jeans and long-sleeved sweater. Although the sweater had a pinprick dot of bleach on the hem, the bright green made her eyes look deeper. And she’d worn her UGG boots so she didn’t look totally sloppy.

Jeez. Why was she taking stock of herself? Because a good-looking dude walked in? Or maybe it was because Granny B had pointed out she needed to do something with her hair and wear more flattering shoes.

She glanced at the table of women who looked like bank tellers. Every woman stared at the guy, too. One woman tucked a curl behind her ear, and another wiped the mascara shadow from under her eyes.

Even Ron sucked in his gut.

The stranger nodded at the bartender, who in turn gave him a quite charming smile. The man slid onto a stool three down from Tess as Ron flew toward him like a magnet toward a metal pole.

“Hello, there,” Ron said, showing his dimples.

Good Lord.

“Hey,” the man said, reaching into the open coat for what she presumed was a wallet. “I’ll take a J.B. and Coke, easy on the ice.”

Ron lifted an eyebrow. “J.B., huh? My kind of man.”

Tess snorted. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t seen that kind of bad flirting since Gigi got drunk and tried a top-ten list of bad pickup lines on every man at the Columns on Valentine’s Day. Okay, that was only a month ago, but still Ron not only took the cake...he’d already licked the spoon.

Typical Ron.

“Hush,” her friend said, slinging an arm her way, but not daring to take his eyes off tall, dark and hewn-from-granite.

Tess giggled. Yes, she actually giggled.

Damn it.

The man looked over at her and smiled.

Oh, hell, no. She’d pull out dimples, too...if she had any to use. She smiled as if they all shared one big joke.

“Ron’s a consummate flirt,” she said, jabbing a finger at her bartender bud. “You’ll fall prey if you stand too close.”

“Oh, please. You stand closer than anyone, mon amie. You love my flirting.” Ron grabbed a bottle of the amber liquid from the back shelf and held a glass to the light.

The stranger laughed and the sound tickled Tess’s stomach.

Whoa, girl. Down.

“True,” she said, pulling her own drink toward her. Ron made her gin gimlet just as she liked it—simple syrup, muddled cucumber, tarragon and Hendrick’s. Delish. “When it comes to flirting, you’re the don.”

“Ron the Don? Sounds like a wrestler.” The stranger quirked an eyebrow. He turned toward her allowing his gaze to travel lightly over her. A shiver ran through her. Dear Bessie, he had the prettiest blue eyes that would exactly match the bathroom rug her Granny B had spent eons searching for. Good humor twinkled in the periwinkle depths, and Tess felt more than the warmth of the gin in her girl parts.

Dang, he looked good enough to sop up a biscuit with, and Tess didn’t even eat biscuits. Carbs were the enemy, after all, but this man made her want to change her mind.

“What brings you to Pete’s? We don’t get much tourist traffic,” Ron asked, pouring a generous amount of whiskey into the tumbler then topping it with soda.

“Job interview. Someone at the company mentioned this place when I said I wanted a local pub.” The man pulled the drink to him, sipped and nodded in satisfaction.

“Really?” Ron said, swiping at the bar with a towel and sliding a surprised look at Tess, keeping her in the conversation. “Good to know we’re getting recommendations around here.”

The stranger made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like an agreement, and Tess sipped her drink, trying not to out-and-out stare at the hotness mere feet from her. She had to be ovulating because her hormones had shifted into overdrive and clamored for her to put on some lipstick and sidle closer.

She ignored her hormones because they made bad decisions. In fact, last time they’d led her to a strange bed, overly polite note and a cold cup of coffee the morning after. Tess had stopped letting her girl parts dictate her love life.

The man glanced at the TV that was broadcasting something with racing dirt bikes. “Any way I can talk you into turning to the Rangers game? Wanna check the score.”

Ron looked like someone had farted. “Hockey?”

“Nah, baseball. Preseason.”

Despite her declaration to keep her distance, Tess slid onto the next stool. “Feliz is pitching. They’re checking out his arm after rehab.”

The man smiled at her.

God, his smile was good.

No, not good. Sexy. And not just sexy but up-against-a-wall-naked sexy. Tess was certain she’d seen such a smile only twice...and the aftereffects had resulted in its moniker. Though up-against-the-wall-naked sex wasn’t as hot as it sounded. Required a lot of balance.

“Ugh, baseball?” Ron groaned but lifted the remote. “The only thing good about baseball is the way the players look in those tight pants.”

“I’ll concede that point,” Tess said, dragging her purse over, telling herself she moved closer to the man only because it gave her a better view of the TV.

“That’s what all the ladies say,” the stranger said. So was that a message to Ron? Or to her? “And, uh, I guess some guys.”

Ron found the right station. Texas was up 5–2 in the third inning. The Rangers’ designated hitter was at the plate, swinging and missing at low and inside.

“Shamburg’s gonna throw that pitch at him all night,” Tess said.

“A lady who knows baseball.” The man looked pleased at the revelation. But, really, there were lots of girls who liked baseball. Okay, maybe not lots. But others.

“I’m not obsessed but I watch.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, she keeps stats.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I like the Astros best,” she said, tugging a notebook out of her purse. “I’ve gotten into a habit of studying batting averages and making predictions. My brother was a bookie during his college years and paid me to help him. Old habits die hard...and now I like the whole challenge of dissecting the game.”

“Bookie? Does he still—”

“Nah, he’s a priest.”

The man’s laughter made her stomach twitch. He looked even better laughing and the bar lights caught the rain droplets in his dark hair. Her hand rose to wipe them away, but she caught herself in time and instead lifted the pen, jotting down the starting pitcher and his ERA.

“I’m Graham.” Hotness extended a hand.

“Tess.” She tucked the pen and pad into her purse and took his hand. It was damp but warm. “Nice to meet you.”

Now that they’d introduced themselves she definitely wanted to keep the conversation flowing, but couldn’t come up with a topic. Maybe more baseball?

“Hey, there. I’m Angela,” a woman drawled from behind Tess.

Graham spun on his stool. “Oh, hi.”

The woman who’d earlier tucked her hair and put on lip gloss stood behind them with a gleam in her eye. Like a predator.

Graham pulled at his tie.

“Would you like to join me and my friends? We’re celebrating a promotion, and we’ve ordered stuffed mushrooms and smoked oysters.” Angela gave Graham a come-hither gaze that made Tess shift on her stool. Jeez, the woman was good.

Graham looked ambushed and his eyebrows lowered a fraction. Tess could almost hear the wheels creaking, turning, churning, trying to figure out how to respond to the overt invite.

“Well, I’ll take some of those stuffed mushrooms,” Tess joked.

Angela shot her “the look”—the one that said something needed to be stuffed, and it wasn’t the mushrooms.

Graham looked like a man who had swallowed a lemon. Okay, maybe not that uncomfortable or sour, but Tess could tell he didn’t want to go with Angela and couldn’t say so without being rude.

Aw...he was a sweet guy. Tess should help him.

“Actually Graham and I have been catching up,” Tess said.

A few seconds tripped by and finally her handsome stranger nodded. “Yeah, it’s crazy and such a coincidence, but Tess was my blind date to Sadie Hawkins back in ’97.”

Tess rolled her eyes. She had been eleven years old in ’97, but she wouldn’t correct him. If Graham said they went to Sadie Hawkins together, they went to Sadie’s together. “Small world, huh? All because he asked Ron to turn to the Rangers’ game.”

Graham gave Angela a small regretful shrug and then gave his attention to Tess. “You know, stuffed mushrooms would be good before we go to dinner.”

Dinner?

Well, all righty then.

“Perfect,” Tess said, with a sunny smile.

Angela stood there for a moment, looking unconvinced. Graham turned back to her. “Thanks for the offer, Angela, but I don’t want to crash your girls’ night out. Go celebrate, and I’ll send a round of drinks for you and your friends.”

Angela gave a shrug and fake smile. “That’s sweet of you.”

“The least I can do after that nice invite.”

“Send the waitress. She’s been on break for fifteen minutes and we’re empty,” she said to Ron before sashaying to her friends.

“You’re the nice guy my mom’s been begging me to find,” Tess cracked, admiring the way Graham’s dark hair brushed the collar of his white dress shirt. The tugging at his throat had loosened the striped power tie and he’d unbuttoned the top button showing gorgeous tanned skin at his throat. His five o’clock shadow gave him a rakish air. “But you don’t have to feel obliged to take me to dinner.”

“Of course I don’t. But come to think of it, you do remind me of Ainsley Braddock, my Sadie’s date.”

Huh. What did that mean? He wasn’t taking her to dinner?

Disappointment stung her. Which was crazy. She didn’t know this man from Adam. Which she always thought a stupid saying because she didn’t know Adam. Okay, she had a cousin named Adam, but—

“I would love to take you to dinner. That is, if you’re free.”

Tess nodded, wondering if it was a mistake to look so eager. Her stomach growled and she decided dinner was dinner. And if it were with a handsome stranger, she’d have news to share with Gigi when she called her later. There was something appealing about being spontaneous, something exciting about having dinner with Graham of the power tie and wing tips. “A friend was supposed to meet me after work but couldn’t get off. I haven’t eaten yet so...that sounds fun.”

Graham lifted his glass and clinked it against the one she held in her hand. “Then it’s a date.”

They both drank and Ron shook his head. “How do you do it? Any time I go to a bar, I go home with a tab and that’s it.”

Tess laughed. “Joanne would be pissed if you came home with anything other than a bar tab.”

“Pregnant women are such downers. She used to be fun,” Ron grumbled.

A perplexed expression gathered on Graham’s face.

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 herself—and 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

GRAHAM NAQUIN 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 apples—sort 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?”