Longing and Lies

Something hot and sweet moved around in the center of her chest. Slowly she ran her tongue across her mouth, tried to swallow and couldn’t. She reached for her drink and took a short sip.

“Well?”

Her brows rose. “Well, what?”

“You said you can imagine me being a handful. I asked you if you could.”

“Oh—” 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.

“Welcome 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 were partners 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. The moment 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.

“You 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.

“So 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 there.”

“Didn’t want to make a total fool of myself,” he half joked, “especially with you watching.”

“Can I get you anything else from the bar?” the waitress said, snapping the line of tension between them. She picked up the empty plates and looked from one to the other.

Ashley took the reprieve to ease her hand out of Elliot’s warm grasp. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Elliot lifted his half-empty glass. “I’ll have another.”

“Right away.”

Elliot leaned back in his chair and appraised Ashley from beneath lowered lashes.

“What?” she finally said, after his stare began to make her uncomfortable.

He gave a slow, short shake of his head. “Can’t quite figure you out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get twisted out of shape. I’m just saying I can’t figure you out.”

“Funny, I thought the same thing about you.”

The corner of his mouth jerked up into a grin. “Really?”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she lightly teased.

He leaned forward. “It’s late. I should get you home.”

His sudden change in demeanor caught her off guard. Barely seconds ago he was practically in her lap and now he was ready to dismiss her like the final class of the day. She flicked a brow, and picked up her purse from the table.

“Ready when you are.” She stood.