“After you,” Elliot said as they left Jasmine’s office

Ashley looked up at him and caught the half grin on his lips. She brushed past him. “Don’t play the gentleman for my benefit,” she snapped.

“Still testy,” he murmured as he followed her up the stairs to the first floor exit.

She stopped in her tracks and spun around, nearly colliding into hard-muscled chest. The heady scent of his cologne clouded her thoughts. For a moment she forgot her retort, then her good sense returned. “Look, the less we have to say to each other the better. Just do your job and I’ll do mine. How’s that?” She didn’t wait for a response but turned and strutted out, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.

Elliot stepped outside and watched her as she walked down the street with her head high, looking neither left nor right. He leaned against the fence, took out his pack of cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth. He lit the tip and watched a curl of smoke float into the air. He’d been in enemy territory before.

Ashley Temple would be a walk in the park.

DONNA HILL

began writing novels in 1987. Since then she has published more than forty titles, which include full-length novels and novellas. She easily moves from romance to erotica, horror, comedy and women’s fiction. Two of her novels and one novella were adapted for television.

Donna has received numerous awards for her body of work including the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award, and she is the first recipient of the Trailblazer Award. She currently teaches writing at the Frederick Douglass Creative Arts Center. Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her Web site at www.donnahill.com.

Longing and Lies
Donna Hill

ESSENCE BESTSELLING Author

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I sincerely have to thank my editor Glenda Howard who has the patience of a saint! Many thanks to the readers who have embraced the TLC series and shared their enthusiasm with their friends.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to my latest novel in The Ladies Cartel series. Hopefully, you’ve already met Savannah, Danielle and Mia, fierce sisters. This time I will introduce you to my most complex character, Ashley Temple.

You may remember her from Temptation and Lies as Mia’s assistant. Now she has her own story, one that is timely and ripped right out the pages of today’s headlines. But what is a romance without the hero? Have I got a hero for you! Elliott Morgan. Tall, dark, mysterious, handsome and wickedly sexy. Of course he has his flaws. But we can work with him!

I’m a little sad to part with my ladies as Longing and Lies is the last book in the series. Hopefully, Savannah, Danielle, Mia and Ashley will turn up on the pages of some of my other romances, keeping readers up to date on what’s happening with them. I do hope that you have enjoyed each one: Sex and Lies, Seduction and Lies and Temptation and Lies.

I want to thank you for picking up this book, trying it out and hopefully enjoying it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It is because of your support that I have been able to bring book after book to readers for the past twenty years! Amazing.

Thank you for all that you do for me. Happy reading.

Donna

Chapter 1

The month of April had definitely lived up to its reputation. For a solid week, it rained in every variety from bad-hair-day mist to outright downpours complete with thunder and lightning.

Ashley Temple sent up a prayer of thanks as she pulled back her bedroom curtains to usher in the first rays of sun in a week. She stretched catlike, raising her face to the warm rays that beamed through the window.

The previous week had been difficult for more reasons than bad weather. She’d recently finished up an assignment where she’d had to pose as a college coed to break up a drug-trafficking operation on campus. She developed friendships with some of the girls that she ultimately had to turn in. She could still see their faces, the looks of betrayal, the hurt and terror in their eyes.

She sighed heavily and turned away from the new day. There were times when she wished that The Cartel was not part of her life. As a member of the secret organization, she could never have a real life, because part of who she was and what she did could never be revealed to anyone outside of The Cartel’s inner circle. That fact alone limited forming any long-lasting intimate relationships. And as she crept past the age of thirty, the desire to find someone and something permanent was beginning to fill her thoughts more each day.

However, there were some wonderful benefits. She’d met some of the most incredible women through The Cartel and forged unbreakable friendships. Savannah, Mia, Danielle and more recently Traci, were the savviest sisters she’d ever met. Somehow they’d all managed to maintain the man in their lives, get married or engaged, have kids and still kick major butt when duty called. So there was definitely hope for her at the end of the “espionage rainbow.”

She was closest to Mia, having worked as her assistant at MT Management—Mia’s event-planning firm—for the past year and being a shadow on Mia’s last assignment that involved an elite illegal escort service. That assignment had been harrowing at best, testing the ladies on many levels, but it had been nothing compared to MT Management’s crème de la crème affair, the coordination of the triple wedding ceremony for three of The Cartel members: Claudia and Bernard, Mia and Steven and Danielle and Nick. Although they’d all returned back to work, they were still gooey-eyed and bubbly. If she didn’t like them all so much, it might just turn her stomach.

Ashley turned away from the window, sat down on the side of the bed and put on her sneakers. She wasn’t expected at the office until ten, and she wanted to get in her morning run before the streets grew too crowded with the mad dashers en route to work in bustling Manhattan.

She loved the city, she thought, stepping outside and taking a deep breath of rain-washed air, particularly the eclectic atmosphere of lower Manhattan where she’d lived for the past five years. It was a mixture of young and old, exciting and sublime, from mom-and-pop stops to reservations-only restaurants. The aroma of foods from around the world wafted through the air, giving the city its own unique, and often mouth-watering scent.

Ashley did a few stretches on the front steps of her four-story apartment building before slowly taking off down Avenue A. She waved to Herbie as she jogged by his newsstand, making a mental note to pick up a paper on her way back and a lottery ticket. She was no more than three blocks from her apartment when the vibration went off on her hip. She glanced down at the illuminated screen of her BlackBerry. “Anonymous.” She knew exactly who it was.

Ashley circled the block in her tan 2000 Honda Accord before finding a parking space on 126th Street, across the intersection from TLC’s headquarters.

As she walked down the street, she was continually amazed at the gentrification that had taken place in Harlem over the last decade and even more so in the past two years. It was almost unrecognizable except for the tree-lined blocks that still embraced the stately brownstones, many of which had been restored to their former glory, when Harlem was in vogue and the salons were frequented by Langston Hughes, Adam Clayton Powell and the like discussing the “Negro condition.”

Ashley reached her destination and spotted several well-toned guys entering a brownstone, which was actually the Pause for Men Day Spa, owned by four women. She’d had the opportunity to meet them and visit the spa on several occasions and was totally impressed with what they had accomplished. And with The Ladies Cartel headquarters tucked unobtrusively across the street, it was a testament to the power of women on this stretch of street in Harlem.

Ashley approached the brownstone. To the casual observer, TLC headquarters was simply another restored brownstone that ran the Tender Loving Care body products business, which would account for the traffic of women and the often large, all-female gatherings. However, it was anything but that.

She rang the bell and moments later Claudia answered the door. Claudia was Jean’s right hand and long-time TLC operative. What was most intriguing was that she was Savannah’s mother, and it had been Claudia who recruited her own daughter into the organization, and in turn Savannah brought in Mia and Danielle.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Claudia greeted, clasping Ashley’s shoulders and kissing her cheek. “You look stunning and stylish as always,” she said, taking in Ashley’s wild, spiral afro, knee-high brown suede boots over a pair of very tight jeans, layered T-shirts and a thick, brown leather belt hanging low on her slender hips.

Ashley grinned. “Thanks.” She stepped in. “How’s married life?”

Claudia beamed. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Don’t wear Bernard out with your bad self,” Ashley teased.

Claudia made a face. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

They both laughed.

“Jean is waiting for you,” she said as they approached the stairs. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

Ashley looked at Claudia over her shoulder. Her brow creased. “Proud of myself? Why?”

“Jean rarely picks the same operative for assignments back-to-back.” She smiled slowly. “She thinks very highly of you.”

For an instant Ashley’s stomach tensed. The corner of her mouth flickered. “I guess that’s a good thing. Huh?”

Claudia merely smiled and turned away.

Ashley drew in a breath, turned and headed up the stairs to Jean’s office on the second floor. As she went up she passed the Hall of Fame that held the pictures of many of the TLC operatives on the wall, hers included. She made a mental note to give them an updated photo. One of the most recent additions was Brenda’s picture—the prodigal daughter—who’d returned to the fold during Mia’s last assignment.

She went up the next flight and down the hall, tapped lightly on Jean’s partially opened door.

“Come in.”

Ashley stepped inside and was surprised to see Bernard sitting in the office, as well. Bernard Hassell, Claudia’s husband, was Jean’s connection to Homeland Security, the FBI and CIA. Bernard’s influence ran so deep into that side of government that it was a little scary. None of the TLC members wanted to know what he really did. It was simply better not to. Other than that, he was a great guy and a dead ringer for Billie Dee Williams.

“Please have a seat,” Jean instructed as she took off her signature red-framed glasses.

Jean Wallington-Armstrong—although she rarely used her married name—was at that magic point in her life where she could have been thirty or fifty. She was in excellent physical shape, known to jog four miles a day and workout in the gym three times a week. Her skin was still smooth with a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Her arresting green eyes didn’t miss a trick and her lustrous red hair glowed with vitality. She could easily be mistaken for the actress that played Addison on Grey’s Anatomy before moving on to star in Private Practice. But most of all it was the power that Jean exuded, from her commanding presence to her no-nonsense attitude that mesmerized everyone who met her, which was why it was so hard to believe that any man could have gotten away with hurting her emotionally—like her ex-husband did. At least that was the urban legend that circulated around The Cartel. No one spoke about it outright, but there were whisperings, especially when Brenda returned. But that was another story.

“Bernard, good to see you.”

He nodded his head. “You, too. Congratulations on the high school case. Great job.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. She took a seat opposite Jean.

Jean opened a folder then looked across the wide oak desk at Ashley. “The reason I asked Bernard to join us is that he is going to be involved from the beginning.”

Ashley rested her oversized purse on her lap, crossed her ankles and waited. That was an interesting twist, she thought. Bernard usually brought up the rear or came on board when things got a bit dicey. So to have him involved from day one put her on alert.

“There has been a rash of children that have gone missing. Babies, infants. Some of them from their homes or right from the hospital never to be seen again. The government is keenly aware of this.” She flashed Bernard a look.

“But with a war on two fronts, the weak economy and a host of other national and world issues, they don’t have the manpower to tackle this the way it needs to be tackled,” Bernard said.

As they talked, explaining her assignment, Ashley fought down the nausea that brewed in her stomach. Her temples pounded and she felt the beads of perspiration lining her forehead and trickling down the center of her spine. She took in short breaths to steady her stomach as her heart thundered in her chest. Why her? Why did they pick her for this? Oh, God. Her throat clenched.

“We will need you to infiltrate several of these agencies,” Jean was saying, cutting into Ashley’s twisting emotions. “We think that is the best starting place. These agencies serve as the conduit from the places of abduction to the buyers. We’re just hoping that these children have not been taken out of the country.”

Ashley rubbed her damp palms along her thighs.

“Are you all right, Ashley?” Jean asked.

Ashley’s gaze snapped toward Jean. She swallowed. “Yes. I’m fine. Just thinking…how horrible it must be for the parents.”

Jean looked at her for a moment before continuing. “We decided that the best cover for this assignment is for you to have a partner.”

“A partner?” she echoed.

Bernard cleared his throat. He turned to Jean. “May I?” Jean nodded for him to go ahead. He leaned backward and folded his arms. “We need to ensure from the onset that your cover is tight. To do that we decided that it was best that you be part of a couple.”

“A couple?” she repeated for lack of something concrete to say.

“Yes.”

Jean opened a folder and adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her aquiline nose. “The FBI is part of this operation. I asked Bernard to go through the files and select the agent that would be best suited for this. His name is Elliot Morgan. He’s just returned from an operation overseas.”

“I’ve already briefed him on what needs to be done,” Bernard added. “And he’s agreed.”

Ashley adjusted herself in her seat.

“He should be here shortly, but we wanted to speak with you first. So if you have any reservations, now is the time to let me know,” Jean said.

Ashley cleared her throat. “I’ve just never worked with a male operative before,” she said, looking from one to the other.

“Under normal circumstances we try to tailor all of our assignments for Cartel members only. But this is a highly sensitive case. In addition to which, the FBI wants to be involved.”

Ashley nodded. The knot of tension tightened in her stomach. Did Jean know about that dark, painful part of her life? Is that why she was selected for this assignment?

There was a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” Jean called out.

All heads turned in the direction of the opening door.

Chapter 2

Elliot Morgan’s trained dark eyes took in the room and its occupants all at once. He was still tense and edgy from his undercover assignment in London where he was on the trail of a serial bomber. His senses remained on high alert, expecting the unexpected at any moment. In his shady world where no one was who they claimed to be, everyone was suspect. He’d seen more in his thirty-six years than most people had in a lifetime.

Ashley’s breath stopped somewhere in her chest and wouldn’t budge. The new arrival had virtually sucked up all the air in the room. Tall, dark, athletically muscular, he brought to mind the sleekness and danger of a predatory panther. His features were hard and chiseled with deep probing eyes and full lips. His closely shaven hair was more of a shadow than anything else. But it was more than his physical presence that was breathtaking. It was clear by the way he moved, the way he looked at each of them that he wouldn’t hesitate to make them a distant memory without hesitation. His body and demeanor was as much a weapon as anything that could be put in his large hands.

“Elliot.” Bernard stood. “Come on in.”

Elliot closed the door behind him and came fully into the room. His expression was unreadable as he approached the trio.

“Elliot Morgan, Jean Wallington and Ashley Temple.”

Jean extended her hand, which he shook. “Ashley is one of our most skilled Cartel members,” she said.

He turned slightly to his right. His jaw clenched. He extended his hand. “Pleasure,” he murmured taking her hand.

Ashley offered a tight-lipped smile and a short nod of her head.

Elliot pulled up an available seat.

“We were briefing Ashley on the situation and the plan that we’ve designed. I want you both to know that we understand perfectly that this assignment is out of the norm for you. I know you had your reservations, Elliot about working with someone.”

“It’s not what I do,” he said tersely. He turned to Ashley. “No offense, but I work alone.” His hard gaze dared her to refute him.

Ashley lifted her chin. “I feel the same way,” she tossed back ready to go toe-to-toe.

“But as you both know,” Jean cut in, “in this business it’s what’s best for the operation and not our personal preferences.” Her stern green gaze went from one tight face to the other.

“If we didn’t think the two of you were the right ones for this assignment we could have easily gotten someone else,” Bernard firmly stated. “Your expertise with uncovering information and taking on whatever persona necessary is going to be an asset,” he said to Elliot. Then he turned to Ashley. “You have an excellent record of getting suspects to trust you. That was apparent on your last assignment. Those are some of the skills we need,” he added, addressing them both.

“And we needed two operatives who didn’t have any personal attachments that would hamper the assignments,” Jean said.

“You mean, ‘Who didn’t have a life,’” Elliot said, his tone sarcastic as he tossed a meaningful look at Ashley.

Her eyes flashed. She pushed up from her seat. “Look, I’m sorry that you went to all of this trouble, but I’m not the one for this job.” She snatched up her purse.

Bernard caught her wrist. “Wait. Please, sit down.”

She drew in a long breath, cutting her eyes at Elliot before returning to her seat.

“Short temper is a hazard in the field,” Elliot said in that low-key timbre, as he fingered the stud in his ear.

“Elliot,” Bernard said, the one word more a warning than a salutation.

“I don’t see how this is going to work,” Ashley said, crossing her long legs. “It’s clear that we won’t be able to get along.”

“You’re going to have to find a way to work it out,” Jean admonished. “This can’t be about the two of you. This is about saving families from tragedy and young children from a life of misery or worse. So put your personal differences aside and keep your eyes on the prize—finding out who is behind the black-market baby operation in New York City. Are we clear?”

Silence enveloped the room.

“Well?”

“Fine,” Elliot conceded.

Ashley smiled inwardly over the fact that he caved first. “Of course.”

“You’re both professionals. You’ll work it out,” Bernard said. “You’re going to have to, especially since you will not only be working together, but living together as well.”

“What!” they yelled in harmony, simultaneously leaping up out of their seats. Their choreography was so perfect, if the situation weren’t so absurd it would be funny. They glared at each other.

“Sit down!” Jean slapped her palm against the desk. She snatched her glasses off and pinned them both with a withering gaze. “Enough. If the two of you thought this was some sort of democracy, you’re wrong. It’s not. You are a federal agent, Mr. Morgan. You don’t get to pick and choose. Ashley on the other hand is not.” She looked at Ashley. “So if you think you can’t handle this assignment, leave now.”

Ashley was so furious that her insides shook. He was an arrogant bastard! And it was clear from everything he’d said and the way he’d addressed her that he didn’t think much of her or her abilities. How in the world were they going to live under the same roof? But she wouldn’t let him get the best of her. And she certainly didn’t want Jean to think that she couldn’t handle the likes of Elliot Morgan. If she did, it would compromise anything she was assigned in the future.

“Two separate bedrooms,” Ashley demanded more than stated.

“Fine with me,” Elliot said, a twinkle in his dark eyes.

“Of course,” Jean said. “Now, can we get back to the business at hand without any more outbursts?”

Ashley and Elliot settled back in their seats and listened to the plan.

More than an hour later the meeting ended. Ashley and Elliot each had a folder of information that they had to commit to memory, because once they opened the envelope the contents would evaporate from the page after more than an hour in the open air. It detailed their cover—who they were pretending to be until the case was solved—and several possible scenarios to gain access to the list of fertility clinics and adoption centers around the city.

Before they left they were told to stop in and see Jasmine, The Cartel’s techno whiz. She would provide them with their new identification, and the dummy bank account they would share. Jean was making arrangements for the apartment that they would move into within the week. Everything was falling into step except Elliot and Ashley.

“After you,” Elliot said as they left Jasmine’s office.

Ashley looked up at him and caught the half grin on his lips. She brushed passed him. “Don’t play the gentleman for my benefit,” she snapped.

“Still testy,” he murmured as he followed her up the stairs to the first-floor exit.

She stopped in her tracks and spun around nearly colliding into his hard-muscled chest. The heady scent of his cologne clouded her thoughts. For a moment she forgot her retort then her good sense returned. “Look, the less we have to say to each other the better. Just do your job and I’ll do mine. How’s that?” She didn’t wait for a response but turned and strutted out leaving the door swinging on its hinges.

Elliot stepped outside and watched her as she walked down the street with her head high, looking neither left nor right. He leaned against the fence, took out his pack of cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth. He lit the tip and watched a curl of smoke float into the air. He’d been in enemy territory before. Ashley Temple would be a walk in the park. He strode off in the opposite direction.

Ashley gripped the steering wheel so hard her palms began to sting. She couldn’t get the smug image of Elliot Morgan out of her head. The way he looked at her. The way he moved. The way he…smelled. Her heart thudded and she frowned in annoyance.

But if she was honest with herself, it was more than Elliot that had her mind spinning. It was the assignment: missing children. Did Jean know the truth? The nightmare was still as fresh in her spirit today as it was more than two decades ago. Her throat clenched as those horrible days bloomed anew.

Chapter 3

Ashley found a parking space a block away from the office. She took the time walking to compose herself before Mia read the anxiety all over her face. Living with a man she didn’t know! Even for The Cartel that was asking a bit much. What made them think that she and Mr. Arrogance could ever in this lifetime work together?

She was going to have to do some serious meditating in order to ready herself for the assignment. Even if it was the highest of compliments to be chosen by Jean for two assignments in a row, she wasn’t sure that she was cut out for this one.

Ashley pushed open the door to MT Management, Mia Turner’s event-planning business and was pleased to see Savannah and her baby daughter, Mikayla.

“Hey! This is a surprise.” Ashley dropped her purse on one of the desks and went straight to Mikayla and scooped her up for a kiss. “How’s my girl? Look at you, looking all beautiful.” She nuzzled her neck to squeals of delight.

“Can’t a sister get some love?” Savannah asked in mock hurt.

Ashley waved her hand in dismissal. “Later.” She went on kissing and hugging the baby before finally setting her back down in the stroller. “What brings you here? Off today?” She kissed Savannah’s cheek.

“Took an R&R day. My boss was working me to the bone.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Plus I needed to spend some time with my pumpkin,” she added, stroking her daughter’s curly head. “Thought we could do lunch. Danielle is on her way.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I hear you got another assignment.”

“Word travels fast in this town.” She plopped down into the seat opposite Savannah and stretched her legs out in front of her.

Savannah giggled. “What’s a little espionage between friends.”

“Yeah,” she said halfheartedly.

Savannah tilted her head to the side. “Problem?”

Ashley blew out a breath of frustration. “Something like that.”

“Hey, Ash,” Mia said breezing into the waiting area from her back office. “How’d it go with Jean?”

“Since we’re doing lunch today, why don’t I wait until we’re all together.”

As if on cue, Danielle came sailing in, fashionable as always and dramatically swept off her sunglasses. “Hey all.” She looked from one face to another. “Gee, I feel like I walked into an intervention. What’s up?”

“Ashley said she’d tell us over lunch,” Mia offered.

Danielle arched a brow. “Sounds serious.”

“Not that bad, but bad enough,” Ashley said.

“So why are we all sitting around,” Danielle said. “I want to hear this.”

The stunning quartet, gathered purses, keys, cell phones and stroller and headed out.

They arrived at their favorite eatery, The Shop. They’d been coming as a group for so long, they had their own booth and the waitstaff knew them by name.

The quartet settled down in their seats and flipped open their menus.

“Does this little gathering call for drinks?” Danielle asked.

“I could sure use one,” Ashley said. “But it’s still early. Oh, what the heck. Let’s order a round.”

“That serious, huh?” Savannah asked.

Ashley sighed and leaned back against the worn brown leather seat. “I’m probably making more out of this than necessary, but the whole thing just rubs me the wrong way.”

Phyllis, the waitress, came to take their orders. It was a round of their favorite, grilled salmon salad with tahini dressing and mojitos. With that out of the way, all eyes were on Ashley.

She told them about her meeting with Jean and Bernard.

“So far so good,” Mia said.

“Then in walks Elliot Morgan.”

Three pairs of eyes widened as Ashley described their meeting and the not-very-subtle animosity that flashed between them.

“He’s pompous, arrogant and so full of himself,” Ashley groaned. “And they want us to live together!” She folded her arms and pouted like a three-year-old.

The women broke out into laughter.

“Girl, your problem is you haven’t had a man in your air space in so long you don’t know how to handle it.” Savannah chuckled.

“For real,” Danielle concurred.

Ashley was visibly appalled at the lack of support from her girls. They were supposed to be on her side. Sure, she hadn’t had a real relationship in longer than she cared to admit. She knew she had commitment issues, deep-seated fears of loss. Loss that she hadn’t shared with anyone, not even her girls. There was a part of her that believed she didn’t deserve someone to care about her and her about them. The guilt of all those years ago still haunted her.

They all nodded, biting back smirks. Even little Mikayla was laughing and kicking her feet in her stroller.

Mia leaned forward, schooling her expression. “Look, sis, no one knows better than me how weird it can be living with a man. When Steven and I got together it was tough at first.”

“Yeah, but he’s your man. Now your husband. That’s something completely different. I don’t know this jerk from a hole in the wall.”

“You did say he looked like Idris Elba, didn’t you?” Danielle said, egging her on.

Ashley rolled her eyes.

“Look, it’s just an assignment. You’ll have separate rooms and separate lives outside of the case,” Savannah said, always the practical one. “Just worry about the job.”

That was just it, Ashley thought. The job. But maybe Savannah was right. Focus on the assignment. It may well lead her to what she’d been searching for over the past twenty years—answers.

Elliot turned the key in the door of his third-floor walk-up on West Eighth Street in the Village. He’d found the place after a less-than-exhaustive search, but fell for it right away. His apartment was in a prewar building, with vaulted ceilings and enormous rooms. His one-bedroom apartment in any other neighborhood in Manhattan would go for three times the amount with the rooms cut down to bite-sized pieces. The neighborhood was an eclectic blend of class, culture, language and age, from seedy to high end and everything in between. It was a mecca for the artsy and a paradise for lovers of music, avante-garde shops and cozy cafès. The perfect place to blend in, able to see and go unseen.

He locked the door behind him and began tugging his fitted T-shirt over his head as he strolled from the front hallway, through the mostly unfurnished living room to his bedroom located in the back, facing the park. He tossed his shirt on the bed and absently rubbed the raised, circular scar on his shoulder, the result of a gunshot wound from a man who wished he’d been a better shot. Elliot clenched his teeth. He’d been distracted that afternoon in the alley, by memories of the argument he’d had with Lynn the night before.

It’s the first rule in his line of work; relationships are a distraction. Hit It and Quit It, was the slogan among the guys. He should have listened. Then what happened later would not have mattered as much, wouldn’t have hurt him so much. It changed him. Now he was a poster child for the boy’s club mantra.

Elliot pulled the envelope he’d gotten from Jean out of his back pocket. He unfolded it and tried to flatten it out on the bed by running his fist over it. It refused to succumb to his manipulations and curled back up.

“Figures,” he groused, flopping spread-eagle across the bed. He tossed a thick, muscled arm across his eyes and a crystal clear image of Ashley popped behind his lids with such preciseness, the near-reality shot a jolt of denied longing to his groin. He felt his shaft throb and jump against the zipper of his jeans. “Down boy,” he grumbled, and forced his mind to the issue at hand—a new, unwanted assignment. He was a field operative. His specialty search and dispose. As a former Navy Seal he’d been trained for combat, for dealing swiftly and with stealth against the unseen enemy before he joined the FBI and worked as a part-time handyman for the CIA in their even shadier operations. This assignment was a slap in the face. Missing babies! He didn’t even like kids. They were a nuisance. Not to mention messy and noisy.

He ran through a laundry list of higher-ups that he may have pissed off to get saddled with this assignment and couldn’t come up with anyone. He lurched forward and sat up, snatched the envelope and opened it.

It pretty much laid out what Jean and Bernard explained earlier. But in reading the documents, he got a sudden chill when he went over some of the painfilled stories of the parents whose infants went missing. Included in the envelope was a list of adoption centers, fertility clinics and local hospitals.

A deep frown creased his brow. What kind of person would steal a baby from its parents? But he knew the answer. Money and greed were great motivators, and combined with persons of no conscience made for ugly scenarios. He released a heavy sigh as the ink began to fade on the pages.

These parents deserved some justice, he concluded. So he’d just suck it up and bring a clean and quick end to this madness. A half grin lifted the side of his full mouth. As a minor benefit he’d get to play hubby with the very sexy Ashley Temple, whether she liked it or not. He chuckled at the thought.

Chapter 4

“So are you feeling a little better about things?” Mia asked once she and Ashley had returned to the office.

Ashley gave a slight shrug of her shoulder. “I suppose.” She turned to Mia, her hand planted on her slender hips. “I’ve never lived with a man. Let alone a perfect stranger.” She frowned. “I like my independence.”

Mia dropped her oversized purse on the desk and looked at her friend. “Is that all that’s really bothering you?”

Ashley glanced away for an instant then looked at Mia. She almost smiled. “He is kinda fine in a pain-in-the-ass sort of way.”

They both giggled.

Ashley dropped her tense shoulders. “I guess it will be all right. The main thing is finding out who is behind the stealing and selling of babies.” A shiver ran through her.

“Exactly.”

Ashley pushed a smile onto her face, highlighting her prominent cheekbones. “So,” she said on a breath, “what’s on the agenda for today?”

But even as Mia ran down the list of upcoming events they had to take care of, Ashley’s mind was elsewhere. Elliot Morgan. Babies. Twenty years. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

Ashley walked through her small one-bedroom apartment, which she’d worked diligently on to transform from the drab place she’d originally rented into her cozy abode. Being an R&B music buff, she had one wall in her living room dedicated to some of her favorite artists: Smokey Robinson, Stevie, Luther, Gladys, Anita Baker, The Temps, James Brown, Michael Jackson, Jazmine Sullivan, Earth, Wind & Fire, Frankie Beverly and Maze, and Maxwell to name a few. Her collection was extensive, going back to some classic 45s and collector’s items album covers.

The sparkling wood floors were dotted with oversized pillows, low tables and standing plants. Rather than curtains or blinds in the windows, they were covered with hanging philodendrons.

But her bedroom was truly her sanctuary. Her queensized bed with its downy pillow-top mattress took up much of the small space. But it was truly fit for a queen. To conserve room, she had her flat screen television mounted on the wall. The one great amenity was the walk-in closet that housed her extensive wardrobe, another one of her addictions—clothes.

That brought to mind these new living arrangements. How was she going to get along without her music and all of her clothes and shoes? Sighing she tugged off her cropped sweater and put it in the bag for the cleaner.

She sat down on the foot of the bed and pulled off her ankle boots, just as her cell phone began to ring. She pulled it from the case on her hip and frowned at the unfamiliar number. She pressed the talk icon.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Ashley?”

The low timbre shimmied up her spine. “Who is this?”

“Sorry. It’s E—uh, Elliot Morgan.”

Her heart bumped against her chest. She cleared her throat. “Oh,” was all she could sputter as she tried to get her brain to catch up with the fact that he was on the phone.

“Look, I know I was being a jerk earlier today. And we, uh, probably got off on the wrong foot.”

Her brows rose in surprise. “Probably,” she teased and could almost see a smile on his face. She crossed her legs.

“So I was thinking that before we do this live-in thing maybe we should try to get to know each other…first.”

“Meaning?”

“Have you had dinner?”

“No, I haven’t.” She swallowed over the sudden knot in her throat.

“Can I interest you in dinner?”

What the hell! Was he asking her out on a date? Her pulsed pounded and her thoughts short-circuited.

“Hey, maybe that was a bad idea. Guess I’ll see you on moving—”

“No. I’m sorry. You just caught me off guard. Dinner. Sure.”

“I can pick you up in about an hour. Is that enough time?”

Her eyes widened even further. A real date. “Okay.” She started to give him her address.

“I already have it. In the file,” he added by way of explanation.

“If Jean is nothing else, she’s thorough. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Right.” He hung up.

Ashley sat with the phone in her hand for a good two minutes mesmerized by what had transpired. Maybe the “real” Elliot Morgan would show up at dinner. She shook her head, her spiral curls and twists dancing on her head. Taking a quick look at her watch, she hopped up from her bed and began peeling off her clothes as she darted for the shower.

After numerous wardrobe changes, she’d finally settled on elegantly casual. She selected a pair of black straight-legged jeans, a pearl-gray blouse that shimmered in the right light, with a black silk button-up sweater. She was only five foot six in bare feet and Elliot was well over six foot, so she opted for her Ferragamo black ankle boots that oozed comfort even after long hours on your feet. She captured her hair carefree away from her face with a sparkling gray head band, pulling it into a halo around her face. Minimal makeup, a dab of African musk behind her ears and on her wrists and she was ready just as the doorbell rang.

Her stomach wobbled for a second and heat popped in her ears. She took a quick look in the mirror, left her bedroom and scanned the living room en route to the door, confident that everything was in its place. She went to the intercom, confirmed that it was Elliot and buzzed him in. Her heart pounded. Moments later her front doorbell rang. Straightening, she grasped the knob, turned it and opened the door.

The air stopped in her lungs. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but seeing him again did something to her that she couldn’t explain if you paid her. Everything about him was more intense, more magnified, bigger and brighter than when she’d seen him for the first time.

Was it the dark, searing eyes that seemed to peek into her soul from beneath half-lowered lids and silky lashes, or the cool chocolate of his complexion that blended seamlessly with his shirt, slacks and hip-length suede jacket? The combination so enticing and perfectly matched that his attire was more second skin than a cover-up. Perhaps it was the half smile that moved like a lazy river across his full lips giving just a hint of beautiful teeth.

“Hey,” he said, his low, almost gritty voice snapping her out of her momentary trance.

“Hi. Come on in. I need to get my jacket and purse.” She turned and commanded her lungs to inhale and exhale as she crossed the space on shaky legs, knew he was watching the sway of her hips and prayed that not only did he like what he saw, but that she didn’t trip.

Miraculously she made it to her bedroom. She drew in long, calming breaths of air. Blinking several times she focused on what she needed to do. She took her purse from the top of her dresser, checked for her cell phone, ID, house keys and wallet. She took her jacket from the back of the overstuffed armchair that sat like a Buddha near her window then went back out front.

She entered the room and watched him for an instant. He was turned halfway away from her, running his finger along the frame of a photograph that rested on a table in the short hall. His body was fluid almost as if it moved to some sultry beat in his head, so different from the tightly coiled man of earlier in the day. “All ready,” she announced.

He only turned his head in her direction, let his eyes run over her for a hot flash of an instant. “Cool. Let’s go.”

Elliot opened the door for her and as she passed him she caught the faintest hint of something manly, a clean and seductive scent that was more him than off the shelf. She liked it. She locked the door behind them.

“Did you have someplace in mind?” she asked as they walked down the stairs to the outside door. She felt his heat as he walked inches from her on the wide staircase.

“Why don’t I surprise you?”

She glanced up at him as he reached around her to open the door. His arm brushed her shoulder and she was certain she felt a jolt of heat race down to the pads of her fingers.

“I like surprises,” she said. “Most of the time.”

“We’ll hope for the best.”

They stepped outside into the cool spring night. He pointed to a midnight blue Jaguar parked across the street.

“You’re getting paid too much, or I’m in the wrong business,” she teased him as he opened the door of the lush automobile, its interior still carrying the scent of brand-new leather.

“Every now and then you have to treat yourself, especially in this business,” he said, as they settled in the car. “Unfortunately, I’m out of the country so much I rarely get a chance to drive it.”

Ashley fastened her seat belt. “How often do you…travel?”

He put the car in gear and she felt the gentle hum of the motor vibrate beneath her. Or was it more than the car that had her vibrating?

His jaw tightened. “I’m usually out of the country eight to ten months a year.” A hardness settled over his face, sending his prominent features into sharp relief.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s obvious that’s not something you want to talk about.”

He turned his head in her direction as he pulled up to a red light. For a moment he took in her profile, the slight jut of her chin, the long lashes that shadowed her eyes, the pert nose and firm set of her glossy lips. Everything about the way she stared straight ahead to the line of her shoulders indicated that he’d done it again—went on the attack for no good reason. At least none that anyone other than himself would understand. It was complicated, too complicated to explain the kind of limbo life that he lived. His constant sense of disconnection, waking up day after day not knowing where he was or who he was pretending to be.

“Sorry,” he offered. “Tough topic. Let’s talk about something else.” He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as her intoxicating scent wafted beneath his nose.

“Have you ever lived with a woman before?” she boldly asked.

Elliot tossed his head back and laughed from the pit of his gut. “You’re definitely direct,” he said, still chuckling.

A tiny smile teased the corners of her mouth. “So I’ve been told,” she tossed back. She angled her gaze in his direction. “Well?”

He drew in a breath and relaxed against the smooth leather interior. “Actually, no. This will be a first for me.” He turned to look at her and their gazes bumped against each other for what felt like a blissful eternity.

A car horn blared behind them. They both jerked away from the thing that held them in place. Elliot pressed down on the gas and took them across the intersection.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what about you?”

“No.” She paused. “Guess it’ll be the first time for the both of us.”

His mind went racing off in a million directions at once, all of them forcing him to adjust his position in his seat. Was this the same uptight, headstrong woman he’d met earlier? He knew there was fire beneath her she-warrior armor, but this was the kind of fire that burned from the inside out. Then his years of dealing with adversaries and those pretending to be something that they weren’t kicked in.

“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?”

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!”

A tall, dark and extremely handsome man came up and clapped Elliot on the back. Elliot looked up and his expression beamed with pleasure. He pushed back from his seat and stood and the two Adonises—one more gorgeous than the other—did that hearty man-hug thing.

“Wow, my brother, when did you get back in town and why didn’t you call me?”

Elliot chuckled deep in his gut. “Look, man I just got back day before yesterday. Getting my legs back under me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teased, throwing his arm around Elliot’s broad shoulder, and turned to Ashley. “And who is this beautiful lady?”

Elliot extended his hand toward Ashley. “Ashley Temple, this is Nick Hunter, the coowner of this joint.”

Nick cut him a look, then shot Ashley with a smile that could melt a glacier. “My pleasure.” He came around to Ashley’s side of the table and shook her hand. “Welcome to Rhythms.”

“Thank you. You have a great place.”

Nick straightened and tugged in a deep breath. “It took some work,” he said with obvious pleasure, “but we did it.” He turned back to Elliot. “You guys have everything you need?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Elliot said.

“Tonight is on the house. A welcome-back gift,” he said to Elliot, “and a welcome, too,” he said to Ashley. He started backing up. “Gotta get ready for my set. You know you’re playing tonight so get your lips together.”

“Man, come on,” Elliot said.

“Forget it. Not taking no for an answer.” He walked off, grinning.

Elliot flopped back against the cushion of the chair. Ashley giggled.

“The only way out is to leave now. And I have no intention on missing out on those crab cakes.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and challenged him with her steady gaze.

A slow smile crept across his mouth. “Must be some kind of conspiracy,” he groused good-naturedly, hiding his soul by lowering his lids over his dark eyes.

“How long have you been playing trumpet?”

“Since high school. Played in the school band.”

“You!” she said, delight shining in her eyes and lifting her voice.

He chuckled. “Yeah, go figure. My folks thought it would keep me out of trouble.”

“Did it?”

He shrugged. “Not according to them.”

“I can imagine you must have been a handful.”

His voice lowered, his eyes lifted and settled on her face. “Can you?”

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.

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