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to us.
    “Wonderful music
tonight.” Ash’s grandmother sparkled at him.
    “We’re having a
grand old time.” He looked it, too. I bet his earnings for this
party covered some nice presents under his tree this Christmas.
    “Would you be so kind
as to let my grandson sing a number?”
    “Yeah, no problem.”
He turned and suddenly seemed to realize who he was standing next to.
“No shit!” he exclaimed, a hand to his forehead. “Sorry.” He
looked back at Gram, realizing he’d cursed.
    “I understand.” She
nodded her forgiveness.
    “Hey, man.” Ash
extended his hand. “You guys sound great.”
    “Wow, what are you
doing here? I didn’t have any idea—”
    “Asher’s my
grandson.” Gram sped things along. “Now, if you’d be so kind.”
    “Yeah, yeah.” The
band leader gave himself a little shake, clearly trying to pull
himself together.
    “Be right back.”
Ash gave me a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. Damn if it didn’t
feel so right.
    “I do hope he’s
treating you well, dear.” Ash’s grandmother kept her attention on
her grandson as she spoke.
    “Sure.” What would
she think of all of this, his elaborate ruse to rehab his image?
Something told me she wouldn’t approve.
    “The trick is to
expect nothing less.”
    “Oh.” I nodded. It
sounded easy when she said it.
    “Never settle.” Now
the dazzling force of her sparkling blue eyes looked directly into my
soul. She tapped me lightly with something on my arm for emphasis. A
small fan, I realized, which she then folded up and discreetly tucked
into the end of her elbow-length glove. So that was where people kept
their fans. Not that I’d ever actually talked to anyone in a ball
gown with a fan before, but I’d seen my share of period films. I
liked my Jane Austen.
    “All right, you guys
and dolls, we’ve got a crazy treat for you.” The leader spoke
into the mic. “Any of you out there ever heard of a cat named Ash
Black?”
    A roar erupted from the
dance floor, along with a few high-pitched squeals. I guessed there
were a few people who were fans, though from what I’d seen they
weren’t his immediate family members. His older brother, in
particular, seemed to give him a frosty reception earlier.
    “Hello, hello.” Ash
took the mic and strut front and center, clearly in his element. He
unbuttoned his jacket. I swallowed in anticipation. “This one goes
out to my favorite girls. You know who you are.” He pointed over to
his grandmother and me, and I think we both glowed a bit at the
dedication.
    Turning to the band, he
snapped his fingers and gave them, “and a one, a two.” The band
magically came to life, playing out the opening chords. A brass
section set the tone, a few guys on trumpets swaying from side to
side. My toes set to tapping.
    With an understated nod
of his head, Ash began. “I’ve got you under my skin.” He was
looking straight at me. “I’ve got you deep in the heart of me.”
    Oh no. I loved this
song. I was pretty sure my older parents had played me Frank Sinatra
in utero, then over and over growing up until it was part of my DNA.
    Ash closed his eyes,
getting into the music, moving to the swing beat. “I’ve tried so,
not to give in. I’ve said to myself this affair, it ain’t gonna
go so well. But why should I try to resist when, baby, I know so
well.” Looking at me again, he broke into a devastatingly sexy
smile. “That I’ve got you under my skin.”
    “He’s quite good,
isn’t he?” his grandmother observed.
    “Wow,” was all I
could manage. I knew if you looked up ‘star struck’ in the
dictionary you’d see a big old picture of me and I should pull
myself together and all that, but not now. Now when Ash Black
strutted around on stage in a tux crooning straight at me. What a
voice! His songs were much harder-driving, with much more snarl and
bite. He was famous for how he could belt it out, then pull it back
into a restrained whisper, but here he just let it all pour