He sighed. “I don’t mean to be a hard ass, but you have to be so careful.”

“I know that now. Thank you, Ashton. I have a dollar right here with your name on it.”

“Jeez, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He exhaled a long deep breath. “Why don’t we grab some dinner later. Are you free?”

“I have rehearsal with the band until seven, but I could meet you after.”

“F. Scott’s at eight?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be there. And thank you for the advice.”

“Any time. Remember what I said about talking to people in the business, Kate. I mean it.”

“After what happened today, you won’t have to tell me again.”

F. Scott’s was hopping when Kate arrived five minutes late to meet Ashton. She crossed the fancy black and white-tiled floor to find him waiting for her at the bar. Since he wore a suit and tie, she assumed he had come right from work.

“Hi,” he said with a kiss to her cheek. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” she said, embarrassed by the way his eyes skipped over her face with obvious interest. “So do you.”

“Our table will be ready in a minute. Want something to drink?”

“Some water would be great. I’m always so parched after practice.”

He asked the bartender for the water and got up to offer her his seat at the crowded bar. A jazz trio played on the small stage across the room.

Ashton’s body formed a protective barrier around her from behind. A queasy feeling went through Kate as she came to an unsettling conclusion: this felt an awful lot like a date.

“Do you have something for me?” He held out his hand with an expectant expression.

“Oh, yes. I almost forgot.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and retrieved the dollar she’d stashed there earlier.

“Thank you. I’m now officially your attorney. Use me and abuse me,” he said with a raunchy grin, his words rife with double meaning.

Kate took a deep breath. “Ashton.”

“What, darlin’?”

“We need to talk.”

The maitre d’ picked that moment to tap Ashton on the shoulder to tell him their table was ready. They followed him to a secluded corner. When they were seated, Ashton ordered a glass of red wine. Kate stuck with water.

“What’s wrong, Kate?”

He was so adorable and so genuinely concerned about her that she couldn’t help but love him, just not in the way she suspected he wanted her to. “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course we are. Why would you ask that?”

“Um, well, I don’t want to presume anything, but—”

He reached across the table for her hand. “Spit it out, darlin’.”

“I want us to be friends.” She swallowed hard. “Just friends.”