His Uptown Girl

Then she opened the door and slid inside. Dez stared at the streetlight festooned with a Mardi Gras mask, grappling with that tidbit of information. Eleanor had been married to a man who had cheated on her and then been killed by his mistress. Heavy shit.

So did she still love her husband? Was she grieving? Or maybe mad as hell at the bastard? He couldn’t read her enough to guess.

Leaning over, she peered up at him from inside the car. “Are you coming or not...? ’Cause I really do need a drink.”

He climbed in. “Think I need one, too.”

Pulling away from the curb, Eleanor performed a perfect U-turn and drove down Magazine toward the Business District. Silence reigned as she kept her eyes straight ahead and chewed on her bottom lip. Finally, she pulled into a vacant spot in front of the Bulldog Bar and Grill.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” she said with a heavy sigh. “This is weird.”

She sat, hands dangling on the steering wheel, lips glistening from the constant attention she’d given them as they drove. Again, it struck him how soft she looked, like a Monet painting, slightly out of focus but begging for contemplation. Pink lips, delicate throat, velvet skin. She made him want to breathe her in, explore the feminine curve of her neck. Relish her essence. “I thought we were going to have a drink. Get to know each other better.”

“Yeah, but why? So you can change my mind?”

“Actually I hadn’t had lunch and I figured any bar in New Orleans worth its salt has a burger on the menu.”

She shook her head. “Don’t play games. I’m too old for you. Too—”

“Too old for me? What? You’re thirty-three, thirty-four tops?”

The groove between her eyes deepened. “No, I’m thirty-nine.”

“Really? Don’t look it.”

“Yeah, really.” Eleanor seemed put out. “This is stupid.”

Dez tried not to laugh. He really did. But she looked so adorable, so flummoxed at the thought of admitting her age.

“What are you laughing at? This is serious. I’m too old for you, and you’re too...too—” she waved a hand at him “—sculpted and hip.”

“Sculpted and hip?” He leaned his head against the seat, a deep belly laugh welling up within. “That’s the strangest word combination ever.”

“Stop,” she said, punching him on the arm. “You know what I mean. We’re from two different worlds. This is a Volvo.”

Dez couldn’t stop laughing. Her reasons were so funny. He was sculpted and she drove a Volvo?

“Dez,” she said, her eyes plaintive.

He stopped, pressing his lips closed. “Huh?”

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re funny...and beautiful...and I really want to kiss you.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “You do?”

He clasped the back of her neck, drawing her to him. Her hair was silk, her neck small. She came to him willingly, breathing notched up. With his right hand, he brushed an errant strand of hair from where it stuck to her lip gloss. Wild horses couldn’t drag him from kissing Eleanor.

With his lips hovering close to hers, he stared her straight in the eye. “I wanna kiss you ’cause I totally dig old ladies.”

Her mouth fell open just as he intended and he took full advantage.

“Mmm,” she said, struggling for only a moment before succumbing. Desire, hot and heavy, raised its head in his belly. She tasted like spring rain, healing and fresh. Cupping her jaw, he drank from her, thrilling when her tongue met his. Pulling her closer, he embraced the essence of Eleanor...and wanted more.

She broke the kiss, pulling back, her breath quick and her eyes clouded with passion.

“I’m not an old lady,” she breathed, her eyes crackling. “And if this is some crazy ‘needing a mother’ thing, climb out, buddy.”

“You think I’d kiss my mother like that?”

“God, I hope not,” she said, swallowing hard and looking out the window, avoiding his gaze. She pressed a hand to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“You didn’t. I kissed you.”

Her eyes met his. “But—”

“I kissed you because you’re all I’ve been thinking about since last night, because you’re beautiful, desirable and sexy...even if you are a few years ahead of me. You think age matters that much?”

She searched his gaze. “It should.”

“Age is a number.”

She gave a wry chuckle. “Spoken like a man who brushes convention aside.”

“I brush aside what doesn’t make sense. You’re a woman. I’m a thirty-year-old man. Not a kid.”

“God, this is silly. Let’s go get that drink and slow this down a little.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m thirsty,” she said, tugging on the door handle. “By the way, I hope you have your fake ID.”

He opened his door. “What?”

Her teasing gaze met his over the top of the car roof and he caught a taste of a mischievous Eleanor. “I’m not contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

“If you’re going to contribute to the delinquency of a minor, I’d rather it be for something more exciting than a tequila shot.”

“Yeah?” She arched one eyebrow.

“Oh, lady, you’re so in trouble.”

Eleanor shook her head. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He gave her his best charming smile. “We’re just having a drink. Relax, okay?”

“Feels dangerous, Dez. Like we should stop this right now.”