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His Forever Girl
Liz Talley
This forever is off to a rocky start! Meeting Tess Ullo is definitely a sign life's improving for Graham Naquin. After their spectacular night together, he knows there's a lot more to explore between them! Good thing he's aced the interview that will bring him home to New Orleans, his young daughter and Tess. Too bad things don't go the way Graham hoped. That job he lands running a float-building company? Tess thought it was hers so she quits to work for the competition. As they face off in business, he admires her talent...and keeps thinking she's the one for him. Now he has to persuade her!
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 (http://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 (#u91b9120c-0d8f-5d80-b866-b1514f8648c1)
Chapter Two (#u5c51b9b3-ac10-5a74-b252-78a03ee88ec7)
Chapter Three (#u091cc1a9-8838-54f7-aa87-45dc966c6046)
Chapter Four (#u7ef39846-1a5b-5b4d-8c77-d342ab638c5a)
Chapter Five (#uc582fbb5-9627-574f-a67a-c9ad13322db9)
Chapter Six (#uad0d0e0f-894c-5fb2-b8ad-7cfd612d14f5)
Chapter Seven (#u984c7400-5c0c-53e4-9c89-163f64b7effc)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
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—”
