the front door. “In fact, why don’t you escort Eleanor? It’s not dressy or anything.”
Before he could answer, Eleanor’s assistant disappeared out the door.
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “She’s been trying to fix me up with any man who walks through the door.”
“Lucky I’m the last one through for the day,” he said, walking over and flipping the Open sign to Closed. He turned around. “Just in case there’s some other man thinking he’ll get to do the honors.”
The ever-present attraction fired between them. A flicker of pleasure played at her mouth. Ah, sweet lips he wanted to taste again. No...needed to taste again. Her eyes slid to his lips as if she’d maybe had the same naughty thoughts. Then she jerked her gaze away. “Who said I wanted to go with you anyway?”
Eleanor turned from him and busied herself with something at the register. He got it. The thing they had going between them—a wisp of something new and exciting—was scary, almost too much to take in. Eleanor wasn’t anything silly as a nervous mare or a skittish virgin, but somehow she felt close to one of those ancient depictions. She was a woman who teetered on a decision, torn between what she wanted and what was expected.
And maybe needed a little convincing...
He set a few flyers on the desk, longing to reach out and slide a hand along her stubborn jawline, wanting to trace his tongue along the delicate shell of her ear, bury his nose in hair that smelled seductive, like mandarin and vanilla.
In his head, music started.
Dez froze as the almost-forgotten feeling came back. Words, desire, music. Was he getting his muse back? Years upon years, the little inner voice inside him, his guide who brought forth the perfect lyrics, had been defiantly silent. The loss of his album had weighed him down, unyielding and tainting his creative consciousness.
But just now—those realizations about Eleanor and wanting to kiss her—had appeared to him like music. He could hear the notes to accompany the words.
Hope sprang loose inside him. Maybe it wasn’t merely being back in New Orleans...maybe it was in the curve of Eleanor’s cheek, in the slight dimple in her chin, the hollow at the base of her neck, or the depths of those mysterious eyes so full of uncertainty.
She stared at him, her eyebrows arched. She waited for him to speak.
“So will you hand these out to interested customers?”
She eyed the stack he’d set down. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m as conflicted about Blue Rondo as I am about you.”
“About me?”
Pushing her hair behind her ear, she swallowed. “This thing we’ve got between us, whatever it is, I think we better stop it before it gets out of hand, you know?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” She grabbed the cash from the register, shoved it in a bank bag and slammed the drawer shut, twisting a key and pocketing it in the fuzzy cardigan she wore. Ignoring him and the stack of flyers, Eleanor took the bank bag and disappeared into her office.
He followed.
She closed the safe in the wall as he walked in. He went to her, not giving her room to maneuver. “Why are you putting definitions on flirtation? On the possibility of what could happen?”
“Because we need them. I need them.” She turned to him, her eyes pleading. “I’m not used to doing this. It’s like I’m parking my ass in foul-ball territory, knowing I’m going to get smacked in the head.”
“Or maybe it’s like knowing that the dance will end but enjoying the time on the dance floor. If you want comparisons I can do this all day. Ultimately what it boils down to is you’re one of two things—either embarrassed because I’m a little younger and my skin’s a little darker, or still in love with your cheatin’-ass husband.”
Her eyes widened but she didn’t respond.
“So which is it?”
“Neither one of those and a smidge of both,” she said, rubbing her fingers against her eyes with a huge sigh.
“So that means...what?”
“I don’t know. I’m ready to start over again, but I’m not sure my debut can be with you. We’re not even remotely from the same world and—”
“You can’t handle someone who’s not white and younger than you?” He couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice.
She stepped toward him, her eyes deepening. “You’re almost too beautiful to be human, but I’m afraid of you.”
“Afraid?”
“Of this turning into something I can’t handle. I’ve got shaky