"Last time we did this we were casing a charity gala in hopes of catching a couple of jewel thieves." He turns his hand to cup her palm, lacing their fingers together. The music builds on the backbone of a lazy blue trumpet solo, sliding through the room like a plume of directed smoke.

He fans his fingers over the small of her back, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear. "And I saw that Sade CD, Detective Beckett. I'm on to you."