Liz Talley - His Uptown Girl

Life doesn’t follow rules

Jazz pianist Dez Batiste knows this all too well. It’s taken him years to return to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina swept away what mattered most. His musician’s soul is still lost in the wreckage, but he’s after a brand-new future by opening an Uptown jazz club. Too bad the distractingly sexy Eleanor Theriot is getting in his way. Sure, she may be protecting her community, but there’s passion underneath that upper-class exterior of hers.

With a little seduction from Dez, that passion sizzles to life and soon they’re enjoying an exclusive friends-with-benefits arrangement. The intensity between them reawakens his music and Dez knows they’re more than temporary. Now to convince Eleanor to bend those rules she lives by…

“You know I want you.”

Eleanor took a step toward Dez. “You’re almost too beautiful to be human, but you’re like a doughnut. I love doughnuts and I want to eat them every day, but I can’t because I’ll get fat.”

“Yeah, but what would life be without the occasional nibble on a doughnut? Maybe just a taste.” He wanted her to say yes, wanted her to toss away those crazy inhibitions that held her back.

“I could so easily, you know.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“That’s what they all say,” she whispered.

“Let’s make a deal.” Dez cupped her jaw, studying those delicious lips. “If things feel too much, too serious, we walk away.”

Eleanor closed her eyes with a harsh laugh. “You can’t walk away when the heart gets involved.”

“You’re thinking too damn much,” he said.

Then he slid his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. He was tired of talking. There were better ways of convincing Eleanor this thing between them was worth exploring.

Dear Reader,

In a city crumbling, weathered by time and the waters surrounding it, music is a living, breathing entity. If you’ve ever visited New Orleans, you know exactly of what I speak. The melding of Spanish, French and African cultures creates an essence unique from any other place, a gumbo of food, music and a way of living that’s slower…and yet full of energy. It’s easy to fall in love with New Orleans.

This book is a Hurricane Katrina book, yet not. His Uptown Girl is about healing, forgiveness and finding courage…discovering beauty among ruin. These characters grabbed hold of who they were and ran with it—they’re likely the most complex and interesting ones I’ve written.

So come with me to New Orleans—to Uptown Magazine Street and Downtown Frenchmen Street. Listen to the rat-a-tat beat of jazz, blues and soul mixed with a hint of bounce. Taste the stuffed crab and andouille sausage…and don’t forget a cocktail. It’s the Crescent City, the Big Easy and the place where Eleanor will learn to love again, Dez will find his mojo and a young sax player will discover dreams don’t fade…even when you bury them in your soul.

I hope you enjoy His Uptown Girl. For more information on my books and to contact me, visit www.liztalleybooks.comor write to P.O. Box 5418, Bossier City, Louisiana 71171.

Happy reading!

Liz Talley

His Uptown Girl

Liz Talley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

From devouring the Harlequin Superromance novels on the shelf of her aunt’s used bookstore to swiping her grandmother’s medical romances, Liz Talley has always loved a good romance. So it was no surprise to anyone when she started writing a book one day while her infant napped. She soon found writing more exciting than scrubbing hardened cereal off the love seat. Underneath Liz’s baby-food-stained clothes, a dream stirred. She followed that dream, and after a foray into historical romance and a Golden Heart final, she started her first contemporary romance on the same day she met her editor. Coincidence? She prefers to call it fate.

Currently Liz lives in north Louisiana with her high-school sweetheart, two beautiful children and a passel of animals. Liz loves watching her boys play baseball, shopping for bargains and going out for lunch. When not writing contemporary romances for the Harlequin Superromance line, she can be found doing laundry, feeding kids or playing on Facebook.

To two of my favorite uptown girls:

Phylis Caskey and Cindy Lott.

You’ve taught me about the finer things in life, but most importantly you’ve taught me the value of friendship. So glad to have both you classy ladies in my life.

And to the city that never gives up, that continues to find the beauty beyond the destruction.

I know what it means to miss New Orleans.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Uptown New Orleans, September 1, 2005

LOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER, Tre Jackson ducked between the buildings and then slid behind an abandoned car. For several seconds, he focused on gulping down the soggy air pressing in around him. Okay. Just breathe, Tre. In. Out.

Breathe.

His heart galloped, slamming hard against his ribs. Shadows enveloped him, but he worried his grubby white T-shirt stood out too much. He crouched to make himself smaller, peeking out from behind the grille of the Honda. The street before him looked empty, but Tre knew eyes were everywhere—eyes belonging to desperate people who could grab him, shake him down and leave him for dead.

Crazy white folks with guns.

Effed-up brothers with guns.

Police with guns.

Made an eleven-year-old kid holding shit he stole feel like he couldn’t breathe too good. After all, what was one more dead black kid?

Fear washed over Tre, hard and fast, but he beat it back with the baseball bat he kept in his head. No time for thinking too much. Had to act. His mama and brother, Devontay, counted on him to be cool.

He clutched the junk he’d taken tighter to his chest, wishing he’d been brave enough to break the window of the grocery store—the place had looked empty, but Tre knew some store owners sat inside with shotguns. So he’d passed it and rooted around in a store with windows already busted. Not much anyone would want left—bunch of junk—but he’d found a weird box filled with junk wrapped inside an old shirt. It had been hidden on a high shelf. He’d grabbed it, and climbed back out into darkness. Tre had no clue if any of the stuff would score food and water in a trade, but he’d find out.

Stepping softly, he crept around the side of the old Honda, its gaping windows reminding him of the man he’d seen several blocks back. Vacant. Abandoned. Dead.

A rat ran across his grave, but Tre ignored the shiver creeping up his back. He didn’t have time for no rats or dead men lying like trash in the gutter where black ribbons of sludge trailed into the clogged sewers. The water had gone down in some places, but that made it even more dangerous. Like a war zone he’d seen on TV once.

Yeah. Tre was livin’ in a war zone. But he always had. Magnolia Projects ain’t no cakewalk. He’d seen dudes shot. Seen bitches beat down. Kids ignored. Ain’t easy living in ’Nolia. But outside the projects, there had been order.

Until four days ago.

Tre searched around for something he could use to hit somebody...if they got the idea they could mess with him. He was afraid to look in the car. He’d seen other dead people. Old folks who thought they’d be all right, but found out quick the storm wasn’t like all the others.