They went quiet when the waiter arrived with their food, thanking him before he left. Then Taegan said, "Not to sound conceited, but different in a good way?"
"I think so," Henri replied. "You're sophisticated, in control—"
"Meaning bossy?" Taegan broke in, grinning.
"Yes, but I think it's because you need to be, since you own your own business."
"You did too, from what you said yesterday, but you don't come across as controlling," Taegan commented.
"I was when it came to my clients. I had to be, to keep them safe while we were out in the bayou. Some people just don't get that gators aren't overgrown lizards. They want to get up close and personal."
"Sometimes tourists don't seem to have the brains God gave a squirrel, or the sense God gave a goose, from how they act."
Henri laughed. "That's for sure." He finally tasted his jambalaya, then took a bite of his sandwich, deeming them both excellent. "And not because I'm starving."
"Of course they are," Taegan replied. "Would I steer you wrong?"
Henri looked at him, smiling. "No clue, since I've only known you for—"
"A short time. You do keep stressing that."
"Sorry," Henri murmured, returning his attention to his meal.
"There's no reason to be," Taegan assured him. "It's true. It doesn't mean we can't be—attracted to each other and want to know more about one another, does it?"
"No. I suppose not." He looked up again. "I presume… I hope you're not in some sort of relationship."
"No. Henri, there's one thing you have to know about me from the start. I don't mess with people's emotions even though, when I want to, I can easily read them."
"Right. Miranda did say you're empathic."
"I am. I've avoided reading you as best I can, except to pick up on the fact you're very afraid, with good reason. I don't want to be influenced by what you're feeling and make more of it than I should."
Henri nodded. "Good to know. Being manipulated by you because you can is not on the top of my list of what I want to happen."
"I would never do that!" Taegan stated adamantly. "I try to help people when they're hurting—talk to them, get them to let it out and maybe suggest what they can do to make things better. That's the sum extent of it."
"You'd make a good psychologist, I suspect."
Taegan chuckled. "I was a psychotherapist in the eighties. Had a small practice with all that entails. Then, of course, as we all do, I had to move on before my patients realized I wasn't getting any older."
"And became an art dealer instead. That's quite a switch."
"What can I say? I love art. Always have. So why not channel that into something that makes me and my customers happy."
Henri held up his hand, ticking off on his fingers, "Spy, therapist, gallery owner. Any other careers you haven't mentioned?"
"In the late thirties and early forties I was a journalist. It kept me from being drafted." Taegan grinned. "I think the army doctors would have been more than a little shocked when they studied my blood."
"No kidding."
"In the twenties—and don't laugh—I worked on a farm in Nebraska."
"You have definitely lived a varied life."
"I'm sure you must have as well."
Henri shrugged. "Not really. As I said, I stuck to small towns. Sometimes I'd clerk in a store. Other times I'd work for a logging company or the local foresters."
"It gave you the freedom you needed."
"Absolutely. I don't like being stuck indoors if I can help it, even more so now," Henri added dryly. He looked at his meal, surprised to see that he'd managed to eat most of it while they were talking. He finished the last of the muffuletta and gave a contented sigh. "I'm finally full."
"I am as well," Taegan replied. "To the point I think I need to take a walk to work off some on the calories."
Henri tensed, but still responded with, "That would probably be a good idea."
"It should be safe enough," Taegan said, reaching across to grip Henri's hand for a moment. "Xavier isn't likely to try something when the streets are full of tourists."
Stiffening his resolve, Henri nodded and beckoned to the waiter for the check.
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