Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [23]
“I manage my companies.”
“What kind of companies?”
“We have a chain of fast-food restaurants that serve only Cajun food. We package Cajun spices. Just in the South and here in New Orleans. We have a meat-packing plant. I more or less inherited the businesses when my father died. Eldest son, only son kind of thing. We have another chain of restaurants in the North. Again, fast food, but only deep-fried fish and chips. They do very well. I’m constantly on the lookout for new recipes. We run contests from time to time for new recipes.”
“And you have no Cajun accent,” Josie said.
“I worked really hard to get rid of it. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do if I wanted to fit in. Later, I was sorry.”
“It must have been hard on you to deny your heritage. I don’t think I could do that.”
“I denied a lot of things back then. Unfortunately, you can’t unring the bell. Everything in life is a learning experience. Sometimes things just can’t be made right.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute,” Josie bristled. “Everyone makes mistakes. I don’t think the person has been born who hasn’t made a mistake. Besides, everyone deserves a second chance. However, if you fluff the second chance, then you deserve whatever you get.”
“And on that profound statement, I believe we will turn this car over to the valet and see what kind of gourmet food we can sink our teeth into. By the way, how were the beignets this morning?”
“Stale.”
He laughed. “We can try it again tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Then we have a date for breakfast. Can I bring Zip?”
“Absolutely.” Oh, you fool. He’s going to palm the dog off on you for the day. I just know it.
“You’re a good sport, Josie Dupré,” Paul said, holding the car door for her. His gaze lingered on the long expanse of her silky leg.
So he’s a leg man. “My mother taught us always to be good sports even if we had to grit out teeth while we were being sporting.”
He laughed again.
She loved the sound. Loved it, loved it, loved it. The ponytail had to go. She didn’t mean to give voice to her thought and was shocked senseless when the words tumbled from her mouth. “Why do you wear a ponytail?”
“Because I like it. My hair is curlier than yours. When I smooth it back, it’s straight. Does it offend you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never gone out with a man whose hair was longer than mine.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Yes, there is,” Josie said smartly.
“I like your honesty. Is that something else your mother taught you?”
“Yes. And to take responsibility for my own actions. I don’t know why it is, but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my mother. You would have liked her. She had the prettiest smile, and she had this one pink dress that was so beautiful. She looked like a movie star in it. She had a little pink hat with a flower on it. She always wore it to church on Sunday. You could always tell which room she was in because it smelled like lilies of the valley. It wasn’t overpowering or anything like that. It was sweet and clean like she was. I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to rattle on like that.”
“It’s all right.”
But it wasn’t all right. She knew somehow she’d struck a wrong nerve. Like he said, you couldn’t unring the bell. “I’m hungry,” she blurted.
“Then I suggest we eat.” His touch sent electric currents up her arm when he cupped her elbow in his hand to lead her into the restaurant.
Four
“Idon’t know about you, Josie, but I need to walk that dinner off. How about a walk down Bourbon Street? The trick will be to find a parking space. Are you up for it?”
“I’d love to walk it. I guess your dinner was all you expected. Was your trout as good as you remembered when Prudhomme was the chef?”
“Not quite, but still good. Sometimes the memories are like anticipation: better left alone.”
There was such sadness in Paul’s voice, and Josie’s head jerked upright. “I’m game for Bourbon Street,” she said lightly.
“Good. We’ll stop for a nightcap. Have you been to Preservation Hall lately?”
“Not for years and years. My mother frowned on Bourbon