“I’m good at it.”

“Besides that.”

She blew out a sigh. He wanted more than her canned answer.

“Same reason you do,” she told him. “I want justice.” She leaned forward. “You get it when you put someone behind bars. They lose their freedom. I get it when I get a judgment or a settlement. They lose their money. Either way, it’s about payback.”

“Money doesn’t cut it,” he said. “I’m a cop. For me, it’s also about getting dangerous people off the street.”

She nodded. “That’s important, too. But I’m a realist. Some of the guys I deal with will never go to jail, no matter how many lives they screw up. But they have to be held accountable. I’ll take what I can get.”

He watched her closely with those sharp brown eyes, as though he sensed there was more to it. Leigh looked out at the crowd. She didn’t want to talk about it. She’d been feeling relaxed, shaking off what had happened earlier, but now her shoulders felt tight again.

The lights dimmed and a hush fell over the room. It was followed by claps and whistles as three shadowy figures took the stage.

The room went silent. A few seconds later, she heard the soft hiss of drums. Then there was a low staccato, followed by the hum of a saxophone as a blue light went up on stage.

Brandon leaned back in his chair. Leigh did, too, letting the music wash over her. The buzz came back as the first song ended with a winding sax solo.

Brandon’s warm hand slid over hers and squeezed. The waitress was back. He lifted his eyebrows in question. Leigh nodded, and he ordered another round.

The next hour spun out in a decadent haze. The meandering, wordless music stirred something inside her. She listened, closing her eyes for long moments, transfixed by the bone-deep vibrations that seemed to reach into her core. She liked the unpredictability of it, the looseness. She liked the sultry twists and turns and the heady feeling of connection that permeated the room.

She and Brandon didn’t talk or touch, but somehow they shifted until she felt surrounded by him. His arm rested on the back of her chair, and she inhaled the tantalizing scent of him that she’d been noticing on and off for days. She wanted to turn her head and nuzzle against his neck. She wanted him to kiss her, right there in the bar. They weren’t even touching, and yet she felt like they’d carved out their own private corner, suffused with sexual tension.