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?”
He thought about the last time he performed. It was before his last assignment in Europe, which lasted nearly ten months, before everything got so dark and ugly and he couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad, right from wrong. He glanced away. “A while,” he said, his voice distant and detached, almost wistful, Ashley thought.
She watched his profile in the light and shadows of the club and the parade of emotions that loosened and tightened his jaw. “I hear it’s like bike riding. You never forget, you just have to get back on.”
He ran his tongue across his lips. His eyes settled on her mouth for a moment and Ashley felt a sudden pulse beat between her legs. She adjusted herself in the seat.
“That’s what you heard, huh? Just get back on?” His gaze bore into hers.
A warm flush rose up from the pit of her stomach and settled in the center of her chest. She drew in a breath. Her taunting challenges of only moments ago, having dissipated under his smoldering gaze and innuendo.
The waitress appeared to take their drink orders and the momentary spell was broken.
Elliot lifted his chin toward Ashley. “What would you like?”
You! Her body shouted, even as her mind remained in disagreement. I want to find out if everything is as hard as those biceps and thighs. She cleared her throat. “Hmm, apple martini, please. Frozen.”
The waitress nodded. “And you, sir?”
“Courvoisier on the rocks.”
“I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
The momentary reprieve gave Ashley the opportunity to pull herself together, take her eyes, mind and body off of Elliot and take in the surroundings.
The club gave off a feeling of back-in-the-day night spots of Harlem, dark, cozy, low music playing in the background, the smell of food wafting in the air.
“This place seems really nice,” she said. “I don’t know how I missed it.”
“Nick had been negotiating to get it opened for a while. The building was abandoned and in pretty bad shape from what he told me. And not in the choicest of neighborhoods at the time.”
“The neighborhood has definitely changed. There was a time when most folks wouldn’t come over here at night.”
Elliot nodded his agreement. “It’s like that all over the city, Harlem in particular.”
The waitress returned with their drinks and set them on the table. “Are you ready to order or do you need a few minutes?” She looked from one to the other.
“Any suggestions?” Ashley asked.
“The seared salmon is excellent,” she said. “Or if you prefer we have stuffed chicken breast, hot wings, crab cakes, salads…”
Ashley turned her attention to Elliot and lifted her brows in question.
“You can’t go wrong with the crab cakes,” he said.
Ashley nodded with a smile. “I’ll have the crab cakes and wild rice with a small side salad.”
“Make that two,” Elliot said.
“Great.” She collected the menus and walked off.
Just as they turned their attention toward each other, the contact was broken once again.
“E!”