Chapter 15

Back at her apartment, Lori stared into her closet in a panic, while she fluffed her hair to speed the drying process and gnawed on her lower lip. What on Earth was she supposed to wear? She had no idea what sort of a dinner Eric had planned.

Standing there in her towel, she had a sudden, terrible thought. She'd never told Eric where she lived. How was he supposed to pick her up? Maybe he hadn't been serious about this date idea after all. After worrying about that for a moment, she managed to reassure herself. Eric certainly hadn't been faking his arousal down in that basement. She remembered all too well the feel of him pressed against her abdomen.

Tightening the turquoise bath sheet she had wrapped around herself, she plodded out into the living room of her small upstairs apartment and rummaged under an end table for a copy of the university faculty directory. She found Eric's home number, thanking the powers that be that he was listed. As she reached for her phone, it rang, startling her so much that she lost her grip on both the directory and her towel, both of which fell to her feet and landed on her toes. Stark naked, hopping on one foot and swearing under her breath, she answered the phone.

"Hello, Lori? This is Eric," he said in his warm, baritone. Yum! "Eric Gordon."

"Hi," she replied breathlessly. "I was just about to call you."

"You were?" he queried. "What for?"

God, this is awkward, Lori thought. "I wanted to know what to wear," she explained. "Then I realized that we hadn't exchanged phone numbers. Thank God for the faculty directory, huh?"

"Uh yeah," he answered. "The faculty directory."

"So what should I wear?" she asked again, patiently. It was obvious that he was almost as nervous as she was, which was such a relief after dealing with Warren, who was never nervous about anything. Lori's former fiancé had always simply assumed that everything would go the way he expected it to and the people around him generally seemed to fall right into line, just like Lori had at first.

"I don't know," Eric replied, sounding almost flustered. "Wear whatever you want."

"Where are we going?" she asked. "Is it someplace dressy, or is it casual?"

"Oh," he sighed. "Dressy, I guess." He named a restaurant in a nearby town that had an excellent reputation.

Lori had been there several times with Warren. She didn't particularly care for its pretentious atmosphere, but at least they weren't likely to be surrounded by their students. "Okay," she replied. "I'll see you at six?"

"Sure," he answered. "Umm, where do you live?"

A slight giggle escaped her. "Oops," she said. "I guess that would be kind of useful." She gave him directions to the Victorian house she shared, in the old downtown section of Kilkenny. "I'm on the upper floor, but it's an outside entrance. Just come on up the side stairs and knock."

She had barely half an hour to get ready, but the choice of restaurants pretty much decided on her outfit for her. There were only a few items in her wardrobe that Warren had considered suitable for such a respectable establishment. Quickly, she threw on the little black dress that Warren had picked out and shoved her mostly-dry hair up into a semblance of a French twist, held in place with a mother-of-pearl comb. Simple pearl earrings and staid black pumps completed the outfit and she was just putting the final touches on her subtle make up when she heard a knock at her kitchen door. Hastily grabbing her black coat and clutch bag, she dashed out into the kitchen.

He didn't look at all like a computer geek, was her first thought. He was clad in neatly pressed tan chinos, a chocolate turtleneck and a heathery brown tweed blazer. He looked like some British country lord out to view the estate. In a word, delicious.

Eric mounted the steep flight of wooden steps that led to Lori's second-floor balcony and suddenly wondered if he should have brought flowers. Oh well, too late now. The porch was mostly empty, except for a peeling white rocking chair and a stack of empty flowerpots. White slatted blinds blocked the interior of her apartment from his view. A fanciful brass doorknocker in the shape of a turtle was mounted on the heavy wooden door, so he knocked firmly, then waited impatiently till he heard the click of high heels on the other side of the barrier. Moments later, the door was open and he stepped inside.

The apartment was much as he'd expected, warm, cluttered and cheerful. Lori, however, was not. What had happened to the youthful, perky adventurer from last night? The woman who stood before him now was dressed in a prim little black number that totally hid her voluptuous curves and turned her porcelain complexion to wax. Her soft silky hair was yanked to her scalp and lacquered firmly in place. There was absolutely no hint of the exuberant personality he'd encountered the night before.

"Shall we go?" she asked calmly, slipping her keys into her small black purse. Her plain black shoes tapped loudly on the black-and-white tiled floor.

"Of course," he responded just as formally. He opened the door and remembering his manners, gestured for her to lead the way. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked out over the array of vehicles parked on the street. "It's the Element," he told her, striding toward his bright yellow Pontiac and opening the passenger door. He handed her in politely, then walked around and climbed in himself. His car might look like a box on wheels, as his officemate David had so kindly put it, but the interior was comfortable and he'd spent a good chunk of the afternoon making sure it was clean.

"Nice car," she offered quietly. "I've never been inside one before."

"Yeah, well, I like it," he returned lamely, wishing he had any idea what to say. "My old pick-up finally gave up the ghost last year, so I had to get something new." So much for conversation. They were mostly silent for the rest of the twenty minute drive.

Dinner didn't progress much better. Eric's one pound pork chop was probably excellent, but to him, it tasted like sawdust and Lori only picked at her grilled swordfish. The pricey bottle of wine he'd ordered might as well have been so much kerosene for all he enjoyed it.