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 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.
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 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?”
“Close enough. My parents