Her glance locked on his lean, graceful fingers stroking the shiny raven strands. Musician's hands that had caressed her body, evoking a symphony of hot, shimmery pleasure. Goose bumps prickled on her skin, and her stomach flip-flopped. She sucked in a breath. Her eyes lifted to his.
He stared at her for a long space of heartbeats. His eyes darkened, reflecting back her own raw, aching need. Then he lowered his lashes. "Do I have spinach stuck between my teeth or what?"
She gulped, jerking her gaze away. There he went, backpedaling fast and furiously. She'd be smart to do the same.
He started the car. "Tell me about the Blue Moon Club."
Not only did Gabe dodge personal questions, he ran from emotion. But he had a huge capacity for caring when he let himself. She'd experienced his tenderness firsthand. It must be tough for such a naturally outgoing man to keep his feelings under tight rein all the time. He had to have a very compelling reason. A reason he didn't want to divulge. Or couldn't divulge.
"Hey, where are you?"
In your arms. She forced her mind back to business. "Sorry, just thinking. I've heard the club is nice, though it's in a rough part of town. Somebody bought the building two years ago and renovated."
Morning traffic began to thin as he negotiated a series of one-way streets. "I see what you mean about the neighborhood." He made another turn, and pointed to a two-story building painted the same silvery blue as the ink pen. A neon sign in front read Blue Moon Club.
He circled the block. "No one around. They probably don't open until evening. I'd say a little recon is safe."
He parked the Pinto two blocks from the club. They strolled past the entrance. "Nobody's home."
"No," she whispered. She studied the neon pink help wanted flyers posted in the front window. "Everything is dark."
"Why are you whispering?" He shot her a grin.
"Probably the laryngitis," she snapped in her normal voice.
His low chuckle spilled out. "I wonder what's around back?"
She followed him down a deserted alley strewn with garbage. Two battered gray Dumpsters emanating a sour stench loomed side by side against grimy brick walls, lending a sinister cast. A shiver trailed up her spine and she moved closer to Gabe.
Though he couldn't have seen her shiver, he reached back and grabbed her hand. "Here's your chance. Sure you don't want to go Dumpster diving?"
The spooky feeling retreated, and she smiled. "I'll pass."
He stopped in front of a metal door and peered into a thick, wire-reinforced window. "Everything is dark." His glance ricocheted left, then right before he tried the knob.
"What are you doing? Breaking into Trask's office was one thing, but—"
"You can go back to whispering now. This would be more effective if you didn't announce our presence to the entire neighborhood."
"What if somebody is in there?"
"I'll have to shoot them, I guess." He took in her appalled expression and laughed. "Relax, honey, I was kidding. The place is deserted."
"Can I help you?" A gravelly male voice rasped behind them.
She whirled. Instinctively she stepped in front of Gabe, blocking the stranger's view. In back of her, she felt Gabe's careful movement. Drawing his gun? Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears.
"I said, can I help you?" the man repeated. He was a few inches shorter than Gabe, but had at least a twenty-pound advantage. Rock-hard biceps bulged under the sleeves of his white T-shirt. His red-blond hair was buzz-cut. A jagged white scar bisected his right eyebrow, and his nose sported a distinct bump, as though it had been broken. Probably more than once. He regarded them with the cold stare of a wary Rottweiler.
"We were just leaving," Gabe replied. His fingers squeezed her shoulder. When he stepped in front of her and started forward, she was relieved to see both his hands were empty.
The Rottweiler blocked their escape. "Why are you nosing around?"
Gabe's body went rigid. "Look, Bubba—"
Her mind spun. No telling what Gabe would do if this man wouldn't let them past. "It's about the job," she heard herself blurt out.
"Job?" the stranger growled.
She willed her voice not to quiver. "Your flyers in the front window said you need a singer. I'm here to audition." She waved a hand at Gabe who had turned and was staring at her like she'd grown another head. "This is my … manager. No one answered the front door, so we came around back."