Another collision was on her. Another accident caused by her tendency to keep her head down. She wanted to hurry away from this man who stirred her senses, but once again, she found herself too intrigued to leave.

Gabriel spoke first. “Perhaps you should consider wearing warning bells or a turn signal,” he teased.

She grumbled good-naturedly, “Maybe you could stay out of my way.”

Gabriel raised a single sable brow. “We might have to split the difference.”

“Perhaps.” Erin heard Detective Iberville shuffling around behind her. The thought of another one of her pitying looks, particularly at her sodden appearance, spurred Erin into action. “Thank you. Again. I’ll launder your handkerchief and return it to you.” She sidled to the right of him, eager to escape. “And I swear I will do my best to stay out of your way from now on.”

But Gabriel wasn’t quite ready to let her go. It was becoming a habit, he thought. “You know we are superstitious down here, right?”

“About?”

“Everything. May I see your hand, Erin?”

Raising a brow, she asked suspiciously, “Why?”

“I just want to check something.”

Despite her better judgment, she offered her free hand to him. He closed his fingers gently around her hand, tilted her palm up into the light. Slowly, he traced the lines that curved across the surface. “Says here that we are destined to collide. It’s inevitable. And that you agree to have dinner with me.”

“Balderdash,” she muttered, an unwilling smile tugging at her lips. “I’d get a better reading from a street corner psychic.”

“You don’t believe me? I’m wounded.”

“You’re ridiculous, Mr. Moss.”

“You’re lovely.” Her hand stiffened in his, so he teased, “Call me Gabriel. Since you’re a friend of the family.”

“I’m a colleague of Genevieve’s,” Erin corrected. “And I have every intention of limiting my acquaintance to her alone.” She pulled her hand free. Which was a mistake. The slide of skin made her pulse leap.

Feeling her reaction, Gabriel bent closer and shook his head in mock disappointment. “Not very hospitable of you, Dr. Abbott. We’re a friendly sort in the South.”

“Well, I’m not from here,” she retorted, wondering miserably how long her palm would tingle from his touch.

Cops wandered past, nodding in casual greeting. Gabriel responded, but his attention stayed on Erin and how her fingers curled in the hand he’d released. “Where are you from, Dr. Abbott?”

The tingling dulled instantly. He was the second person to inquire about her past. Two people that she didn’t know anything about except that one was a detective and the other was a journalist. Her natural enemies. Avoiding his question, she said quietly, “My apologies. Again.”