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chest rose and fell against my cheek.
    “ It keeps you on your toes. If you want me, you have to figure out how to deal with me.” I chuckled.
     

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    Two days later , I stood in front of my floor-length mirror and admired the white eyelet camisole and long skirt that Alec had ordered from one of my favorite shops. The flowing skirt was burnt orange, like fall leaves, but made of cotton, so it was lightweight enough to handle the Louisiana heat. I straightened my hair and pinned the sides up to keep them out of my face. Goosebumps rose on my arms when I thought about going out with Eric.
    “ You know, if you'd rather have our date in front of your mirror we can.” Eric's smoldering gaze sent a shiver down my back.
    I fisted my han ds on my hips and turned to him. “I think that sounds like a fantastic idea.”
    “What is your fascination with the mirror? I've never understood how you—or any girl—can spend so much time looking at themselves. I mean, don't get me wrong. You look...” He gave me an appraising look before continuing, “You look amazing. But I'd be willing to bet you've spent at least forty-five minutes standing there.”
    A huff rushed out from between my lips. “Thirty minutes, not forty-five.” I averted my gaze from his face. “It's an old habit.” I straightened my shirt and messed with my hair, settling flyaway strands. “By the way, how did you get in?”
    Eric flicked his hand over his shoulder. “Your roomie let me in. Are you ready to go?”
    “ Yep.” I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and pulled him into the living room. On the way to the door I grabbed my purse off the key hook and waved to my roommate.
    It wasn’t until we were in the car and driving that Eric gave a hint as to where we were headed. “So...umm, I made reservations.”
    “ Where?”
    “Have you had oysters before?”
    “ No, and I don't have the desire to try them. My parents love them. When we had a party for new clients of my dad's, Mom made sure oysters began the meal. The sight of them makes me gag.”
    Eric took one hand off the steering wheel then wrapped his fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled. After a deep breath he regained his calm and pu t his hands back on the wheel—precisely at ten and two.
    “ You're nervous. What's going on?”
    “ I'm not nervous.”
    “Bullshit. You're fidgeting and haven't said more than a five-word sentence since we got in the car. What gives?”
    Eric sighed. “You.”
    “Sweet little 'ol me? Now why would I make you nervous?” My voice rose as I attempted a Southern Belle accent.
    “ Forget it. So you really don't like oysters?”
    He was too wound up. The more I got to know him , the more I thought the only time he relaxed was while on stage dancing. Then again, I didn't know that for sure. He said we weren’t allowed to see him perform.
    Eric cleared his throat to pull my attention back to him.
    “Sorry, no. I don't like them. Well, I guess I can't say I don't like them. Like I said, I've never actually tried them.”
    “ Well if you're with me, you're trying them.”
    “ Eric...”
    “ No arguments.”
    “ And if I puke on your nice pants?”
    “ Then I'll change.”
    I slumped in my seat. I suppose d it wouldn't kill me to give them a shot. What was the saying? You never know unless you try.
    “ Fine.”
    He smiled at my defeat .
    I held up my hand. “But you have to try one thing from the menu I pick. No questions asked.”
    While we drove toward the French Quarter, I took in the details of the buildings and people. All the color combinations and sharp edges brought out the artist in me. I admired the curves and details used in decorations to counterbalance the sharp edges of the homes. Like the buildings, the people of New Orleans were eclectic. Over the years I’d spent hours people watching. You could find all shapes, sizes, colors, and personalities.
    “ Do we have a deal?” I asked as we walked