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imagine me being a handful. I asked you if you could.”
    â€œOh—” she glanced at the table “—You give the impression that you would do all the things that little boys do.”
    He eased closer across the table. “And what do you imagine us little boys doing?”
    Her eyes crinkled with laughter. “Chasing dogs, tugging little girls' ponytails.”
    He slowly spun his glass on the table. “When little boys grow up they stop tugging ponytails and chasing puppies. They’d rather—”
    Before he could finish, their food arrived and the lights dimmed on the stage as the band took their places.
    â€œWelcome to Rhythms!” Nick said, taking the microphone. The room erupted into applause. “We have a full night of entertainment for you, and I want you to put your hands together for my man Elliot Morgan who will be joining us tonight on trumpet.”
    Ashley applauded with all the others, her hands clapping high above her head. “Whoo-hooo,” she shouted, laughing heartily.
    He wagged a warning finger at her that only made her laugh harder.
    The band began with an original composition then segued to several standards, which all had the rapt audience bobbing their head and popping their fingers. From her perfect position at the table, Ashley could watch Elliot’s every move, catch every nuance and expression. What she saw was a man who was comfortable in his own skin, who could easily transition from gentleman to lethal weapon in the blink of an eye, thoughtful, funny, talented and heartbreakingly sexy all rolled up into one fine package. It could be so easy for her to succumb to his obvious charms, but the reality was they werepartners in the investigation of a serious crime. Taking it beyond business was inappropriate, not to mention that he simply rubbed her the wrong way.
    Her musings were interrupted when Nick took the mic and announced to the crowd that Elliot would be joining them for the rest of their set. Whoops and hollers of approval, along with the house spotlight followed Elliot’s reluctant progression from his seat to his place on the stage, where Sammy handed him his instrument of choice. “We’ve been keeping it warm for ya,” Sammy whispered, as Elliot removed his trumpet from the case.
    For a moment he looked at it with a mixture of awe and reverence. He’d left it in Nick’s care when he took off months ago for Europe. A smile moved slowly across his mouth as the gold valves glistened against the muted light almost like a beacon.
    Elliot lifted the trumpet out of the case, reached for a reed and fixed it to the lip of the instrument. Slowly he brought it to his mouth, shut his eyes and blew out several notes to test the quality, range and his rusty skills. Satisfied, he turned to Nick and gave him a short nod of his head.
    Nick eased into Miles Davis’s “The Man with the Horn,” and Elliot picked up on the melody as if he’d never been away from his trumpet.
    Ashley was mesmerized by this new Elliot that was on the stage. He was a chameleon, ever changing. Themoment she thought she had him pegged, he’d switch up on her, leaving her to question her instincts.
    He finished out the set with the band to jubilant applause before hopping down off stage and returning to his table. Ashley was still applauding, a smile beaming across her face.
    â€œYou were fantastic!” she enthused, grabbing his hand before she could stop herself.
    The spontaneous moment stunned them both. Elliot’s gaze fell to the hand that covered his. Embarrassed, she pulled her hand away but not before Elliot caught it. He looked into her eyes as his fingers grazed hers.
    â€œSo you liked it?” he said, his voice low and intimate. He ran his thumb across her knuckles.
    Ashley’s pulse throbbed. “I don’t know why you doubted yourself,” she managed to say. “You were right at home up