Longing and Lies

“The lounge is on the next block,” he said, changing subjects to one in which he could control. “Hopefully I can find a parking space.”

Ashley instantly noticed the shift in attitude and the sudden cool breeze in the car. She flicked a brow in dismissal and folded her arms. Just like I said in the beginning, she mused to herself, a pain in the ass. This was going to be a long night.

Chapter 5

They spent the next few minutes of the drive in an unspoken truce of silence. Ashley zeroed in on the passing traffic and pedestrians as if they were creations of the great Da Vinci and she had been commissioned to unlock the mysteries of the swaths of color and movement. In reality she didn’t see a thing, blinded by flashes of red as her temper continued to boil. Her body curled into a tighter and tighter knot of tension as the minutes ticktocked in her head.

Why was it so easy for him to irritate her to the point of distraction? She’d had her share of relationships. She knew how to handle men—both casual and serious. Elliot Morgan was a new breed, however. Her lips tightened into a line so thin as to be almost invisible.

She was so intent on her ire that she didn’t realize they’d come to a stop until her door was pulled open and Elliot’s large hand was extended for her to take. She blinked and looked up into his face. Whatever it was that had her coiled tight enough to snap, slowly began to unwind, and she felt the slow thud of her heart against her chest. The veil of red that had descended in front of her eyes was lifted, and even in the twilight of evening she could see sunshine.

She made herself breathe as she placed her hand in his and felt the strength of his grasp pull her to her feet. He didn’t bother to step back. When she stood there was a mere breath that separated them. For a moment they faced each other and she sank into the depth of his dark eyes and traveled to exotic places along the planes of his face.

“It’s right up the street,” he said, his voice low, stroking her below her waist as surely as if he actually touched her there.

She bobbed her head and muttered, “Okay.”

He moved back to give her room and she felt as if a chasm had opened in front of her and she longed for the security of his warmth and closeness. Somehow he managed to reach around her to close the car door, having her momentarily encircled in his warmth. He gave her a half smile and extended his hand in the direction of the club. Ashley fell in step beside him doubling her pace to keep up with his long stride.

The half-block-long line signaled that they had arrived.

“Wow, it must be packed,” Ashley said. “We’ll never get in.” She peered around the line of bodies.

“Not a problem.” He took her hand and walked her past the crowd, right up to the front door. “Hey, Lou,” he greeted the muscled man at the door. When Lou’s tight gaze and even tighter expression landed on Elliot, he actually smiled.

“Oh, man! Good to see you, brother. You have a lovely guest, I see.” He stepped aside to let them pass.

Ashley smiled.

“Be sure to see Gina,” Lou continued. “She’ll hook you up with some good seats.”

Elliot clapped Lou on the back. “Thanks, man.”

“For you…anytime. Don’t be a stranger.”

Elliot had yet to let go of Ashley’s hand, and the longer he held it the more she liked it.

“I take it you’ve been here before,” she teased.

Elliot chuckled. “Yeah, the owners are friends of mine. Nick Hunter and Sam Blackstone. If they’re around I’ll be sure to introduce you…in case you and your friends want to stop by sometime.” He guided her to the hostess podium. “Gina,” he cooed at the modelesque woman, who was at least six feet tall with sharp Ethiopian features—voluminous dark eyes, sweeping forehead and high cheekbones. Her long, slender neck gave her an even more regal appearance. Her ruby-red lips spread into a slow smile as her long lashes lowered over her eyes. She leaned forward taking Elliot’s face in her hands and kissing each cheek.

“You bad boy,” she scolded. “Where have you been? It’s been much too long.” Her accent was unrecognizable, a combination of nations that melded into something unique.

Elliot chuckled from deep in his chest. He looked deep into her eyes, lowered his voice. “Now, Gina, you know if I told you, I’d have to make you disappear.”

Gina tossed her head back on her long stem of a neck and laughed an almost musical melody. “You and your secret games.” She finally turned her attention to Ashley. “Welcome to Rhythms. Do not let this man charm you into doing anything naughty. He can be very persuasive.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ashley said, not sure if the quickening in her stomach was from being let in on some private joke or the fact that Gina may have been a willing recipient of Elliot’s charms.

“I’ll show you to your table.” She took two menus from the stand and led them to the center of the club with a table in front of the stage.

Elliot helped Ashley into her seat.

“Nick is playing tonight,” Gina said, placing the menus in front of them. “You’re in luck. Maybe you can sit in on a set.”

Elliot chuckled and shook his head. “I’m too rusty to get up there with the boys. It’s been a while.” He leaned casually back in his chair, his thighs spread and his arm draped across the top of the seat.

“Your server will be along to get your drink order.” She focused on Ashley. “You should convince him to play tonight.” Gina squeezed his shoulder and gave him a quick wink before walking away.

Elliot lowered his head for a moment and shook it as he chuckled softly.

Ashley rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward. “So what is it that I should be convincing you to play?”

“Naw. Don’t even go there.” He waved off her question and almost looked embarrassed, his usual swagger momentarily gone.

“Why? Got something to hide?”

His gaze connected with hers. “No.”

“Do you play some kind of weird instrument?”

“No.”

“Tuba?”

“No,” he sputtered.

“Harp?”

“Very funny.”

“Banjo!”

He cracked a smile.

“I got it. The recorder!” Her eyes widened in delight.

Elliot laughed. “Not since I was about six,” he confessed.

“I knew it,” she teased and sat back, waiting expectantly.

“Trumpet,” he finally admitted.

She tipped her head to the side in appreciation. “Really? Wow. That’s Miles Davis’s instrument of choice.”

“So you know a little something about music. I should have figured as much with that collection you have at your place.”

She grinned. “One of my passions.” She paused. “So, how long has it been since you’ve played?”