Pansy made a face, but the anticipation of adventure shone in her friend’s eyes. “Fine. With extra cream.”
“I’m heading over to Blue Rondo. Dez said he’s going to do an impromptu jam today and I want to hear Tre play. Dez said he’s good.”
Pansy nodded, picking up a decorating magazine. “Later, alligator.”
Eleanor pushed out the door, the familiar bell clanging an easy comfort, and headed over to the jazz club. By the time she reached the opposite sidewalk, she could hear the faint sound of music being played. The door was unlocked so she entered just as the horns joined in on the rollicking tune.
For a moment, she felt like Alice down the rabbit hole.
Tre didn’t look like the silent delivery boy any longer. He wagged his head to whatever invisible beat pulsed in him, his cheeks puffed out, his eyes closed and his fingers moving light speed over the keys of the horn.
Strange in a wonderful way to see such transformation.
For a full minute she watched, none of the band noticing her appearance as they wailed, rolled and rocked a song she’d never heard before.
Reggie Carney caught her eye and nodded in acknowledgment as he sat in one chair, feet propped in another, drinking in the sounds emerging from the stage. Eleanor glanced around the club that would open in two weeks’ time.
The place looked good. The sign she’d found for Dez hung above the bar as if the room had been designed around it. Gray walls the exact color of Dez’s eyes were a perfect palette for the cobalt-blue, mustard-yellow and pepper-red of the accessories. The classic black tables were good contrast for the polish-aged bar tricked out with black foot rail and hammered tin tiles tripping visually back to the golden age of jazz. Leafy palms flanked the huge mirrored bar, helping to soften the corners. Eleanor didn’t know how long they’d last in a bar, but they did bring an upscale look to the space.
Overall, the place appeared nearly ready.
And then her eyes found Dez.
The man played the piano exactly as he played her body—with consummate skill, long fingers exacting the perfect response, eyes closed as he pulled from the instrument exactly what he needed.
It freaking turned her on, and for once, she understood Pansy’s initial response all those years ago...though it bothered her to remember it.
Yes, Dez Batiste was sex on the piano—slow, seductive and rising in tempo with hot, naked notes reaching to an intense peak.
Eleanor nearly fanned herself watching him work the instrument.
Finally, after several minutes, the last jangle of the cymbal faded.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout, baby,” the drummer crowed, his drumsticks clacking as he tossed them onto the stand next to him.
Reggie clapped, and Eleanor joined in, drawing the men’s attention. Dez’s smile felt like butter on warm bread, and her stomach flipped in response. Oh, that man could smile something sweet.
“Batiste Blue sounds legit, my friends,” Dez said.
“I like the name of the band,” Eleanor said before turning to to Tre. “You’re amazing. Like a whole ’nother person.”
Ducking his head in true Tre fashion, he nodded. “Thanks, Mrs. Theriot. And thanks for the horn.”
She patted his back, wishing for more ease between them. She’d always been able to foster a decent relationship with the employees who’d come and gone over the years, but not with Tre. He held himself so far from people. She understood—she’d done the same far too long. “I wish I had known you had such a God-given talent. I would have made sure you had a sax before now.”
He pulled away, his eyes briefly showing he didn’t need her pity. Eleanor tucked her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, wishing she didn’t always say the wrong things to her delivery guy.
Dez caught her gaze and his eyes shone with understanding. No misunderstanding there. In fact, for the past few weeks, she and Dez had found an easy existence. When Dez didn’t have a gig in the evening, they watched TV and ate ice cream before retiring to either his bedroom or hers to make love. A few times, they’d not even had sex, just lain beside one another sharing dreams, tales of elementary school and hopes for one another. Falling asleep in Dez’s arms had become habit quickly.
“Mutually exclusive friends with benefits” worked pretty well, yet she knew even as she tried to keep her distance, she fell harder and harder each day for the man who smelled clean as