“Don’t worry, Erin. I took a defensive driving course. I drive like a nun these days.”

“You drive like a maniac.”

Cupid-bow lips twitched in restrained laughter. “That’s not very polite. I’ve never heard you not being polite.”

“Teetering on the edge of death can do that to a person,” Erin explained, squeezing her eyes shut as they cut off an angry semi. She pried open one eye, afraid to miss her own demise, and gasped, “Watch it! A streetcar!”

Genevieve gunned the engine and leaped the tracks, barely avoiding a collision. “That was a close one,” she commented as she checked her rearview mirror. The raised fist of the conductor merited a friendly wave.

“Stop the car!” Erin clutched at the door handle. “I’ll walk!”

“Can’t. Gabriel gave me strict instructions. I’m to pick you up and drive you home today. No arguments.”

“I don’t take orders from your brother.”

Genevieve smiled softly. “Neither do I. However, for some reason, he’s worried about you.”

Erin’s lips warmed at the memory of their kiss, of the utter lack of pressure for more. That almost disturbed her more than the killer who stalked her. Which was absurd. “Do you always do what Gabriel wants?”

“If I agree.” Gen tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “I saw the headline on the Ledger this morning: ‘ABC Killer Stalks New Orleans Residents.’”

“Oh.”

The silver car turned into the parking lot for the social science building. Genevieve cut the motor and turned around to look at Erin. “Gabriel told me about as much when I asked him about his sources. In the next breath, though, he asked me to pick you up and take you shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“He’s a guy. They think the mall is the cure for every ill that a woman faces. I agreed because I care about you, Erin. I know we haven’t been close—” Neither had to point out whose fault it was. “But I would like to be your friend.”

Nathan had taken too much from her, Erin thought. Even friendship. Enough was enough. “I hate malls. And I hate shopping.” She talked over Gen’s appalled reaction. “But I would love to learn to drive.”

“You could take classes this summer. Or I could teach you. Though I don’t understand how anyone could reach the age of twenty-nine without learning to drive.”

“I traveled a lot.” Wistfully Erin gazed out at the tree-lined streets that graced the university. The fragrance of wild azaleas mixed with the scent of jasmine.

There’d been a plot of jasmine on the balcony at their pied-à-terre in Paris, right outside her bedroom. That was when her parents had taken her to the Sorbonne.

Sebastian had explained the medicinal uses to her, and she’d tucked sprigs into her suitcase, the evening they left for Amsterdam. Or was it Lisbon?