Listen To Your Heart by Fern Michaels

feeling, if anything? He looked at her then and smiled. She smiled back. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed his hand.
    â€œI think this is the place,” Paul said as he ushered Josie into the bar. His head snapped to attention when the small band began a new set of tunes. “They’re loud. I might be a little too old for this,” he said, helping her onto a high barstool. “What will you have to drink?”
    â€œBeer’s good. I’m still full from dinner. Kitty says we have to ask them to play ‘Mustang Sally.’”
    Paul shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around her shivering shoulders. “Two Buds,” he said to the hovering waitress. “I can’t hear myself,” he shouted.
    â€œYou aren’t supposed to hear yourself. You’re supposed to listen. They must be good; the place is crowded. I like them,” Josie said, banging the ashtray on the table in time with the music. Paul fished in his pocket and walked over to the band, where he mouthed the words, “Play ‘Mustang Sally.’” She watched as money changed hands.
    They stayed until the band, went on break. The moment Josie yawned, Paul lifted her off the barstool and ushered her out the door. “We’ll come back for Mardi Gras if I’m in town.”
    Josie stepped in a puddle and yelped. “Okay,” he said, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder. “It’s time to go home. It’s been a very interesting evening.”
    â€œIt’s always interesting when you fall in love,” Josie mumbled as she bounced around on Paul’s shoulders.
    Paul grinned as rain beat down on him and the slender girl on his shoulder. “I’m going to run now, so hold on.”
    My rear end is right in his face, Josie realized. Suddenly her head jerked upright, the baseball cap landing in a puddle. What if he heard what she’d just mumbled. “Hey, slow down! Stop! My hat fell off. I want the hat! Put me down.”
    A devil perched itself on Paul’s shoulder as he swung around, searching under the garish neon light for the biggest puddle he could find. He swung around again and dropped her, rear end first, into an ankle-deep puddle.
    Josie winced with the jolt to her posterior but was quick enough to reach out with her right hand to grasp Paul’s ankle. He went down on all fours as rain pelted the two of them. Josie crawled away, laughter bubbling in her throat as her hand snaked out for the baseball cap that was now soaking wet. She plopped it on her head.
    People hurrying to get to their cars joined their laughter as they passed by. No one stopped. This was, after all, the Big Easy, where laissez les bons temp rouler was the rule of the day. “My mother would never approve of this. What about your mother?” Josie managed to gasp as peals of laughter rocked her shoulders. “You look pretty silly, sitting there in that puddle. Your suit is ruined. My dress is ruined. Just like your car. Everything is ruined. Isn’t that funny?”
    The moment was gone as fast as it arrived. Paul was on his feet, his hand stretched out to help her up. “I guess I did look rather silly, and my mother wouldn’t care. It’s late. I need to think about getting you home.”
    â€œWait a minute. Why the switch up? What did I say to put that look on your face? That you look silly? You did look silly, as silly as I looked. Hey, we’re on Bourbon Street. It was a silly moment. It was fun. Now you look and act and sound like a . . . stuffy banker. I guess it is time to go home,” she said, all the fun gone from her voice.
    Later, in her driveway, Paul turned to her and said, “For some reason you rattle me. I don’t understand it. I’m sorry if I took all the fun out of your evening there at the end.”
    â€œYou rattle me, too. Did I do something, say something?”
    â€œNo. It was just the end of a very long