On the surface, inviting the Masters family to dinner hadn’t been logical. They were barely acquaintances any longer, and had never been friends. Now she mostly felt bad for Chelsea, who plainly struggled with self-confidence.
Suspecting Chelsea wasn’t eager to have too much “alone time” with her brother and sister, Nicole had invited everyone to dinner to “inaugurate” her new barbecue. But her motives weren’t entirely altruistic...she’d mostly done it to ensure she and Jordan had other people around the next time they saw each other. This way they could slide over the awkwardness of a kiss that shouldn’t have happened.
He finished loading the dishwasher while she put spoons and napkins on the tray with everything else. Without a word, Terri picked it up and carried it outside.
Jordan’s forehead was crinkled with tension, his jaw tight.
“Something wrong?” she asked lightly, hoping he had enough sense to avoid mentioning the previous evening.
“No, it just seems strange for us to be here, so far from Los Angeles and so many years since we were kids.”
“Odd things are often the rule, rather than the exception. Once I ran into one of my college professors in London. I had no idea she’d be there, but she had flown in for a conference on international corporate relationships and was sightseeing.”
“That fits. The biographical material said you’d earned your degree in business administration—if they got it right.”
Apparently he remembered what she’d said about inaccurate research.
“That’s right,” she confirmed, “with a minor in finance.”
“Then running a business was always your plan?”
The coffeemaker had finished, so Nicole poured the coffee into an insulated carafe. “No, but I had to choose something to study. Business and finance interested me. Does that seem equally strange to you?”
“I might have expected you to choose the arts or develop a perfume or makeup line. Or perhaps clothing design.”
“Dressed by George, you mean?” she asked lightly.
He grinned. “That would be a catchy label—even better if you were British.”
“My parents came up with it. They suggested I try design as an alternative to a talent agency.” She frowned.
“Something wrong?”
“I still don’t want my mom and dad to be part of the articles. I know I’m the one who mentioned them, but I didn’t invite you to dinner as the reporter writing a story on me. You’re here as Chelsea’s brother.”
Jordan crossed his arms over his chest. “Yet our families form part of who we are and the choices we make.”
“Maybe, but how would you like the spotlight turned on you and how your family has affected your life choices?”
A tight expression crossed his face. “I wouldn’t.”
“And in the average article on a successful businessman, his parents’ influence probably would not be brought up in an interview.”
“You think women are treated differently?”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “You know they are.”
“I’m not claiming that’s how it should be.”
“Then don’t drag things into this that you wouldn’t if I was a man.”
Though the conversation shouldn’t have been provocative, it was becoming that way. The importance of women’s rights and equality didn’t change the reality that they’d kissed the previous night...or that a part of her wanted to repeat the experience.
Jordan followed her onto the deck and Nicole forced herself to breathe normally. Once the PostModern articles were finished, her contact with him would be limited. She doubted he’d come to the agency very often, even with his sister working there. They might cross paths while running, but not much more.
If she had to, she’d put a reminder on the bathroom mirror that Jordan was merely a temporary part of her life.
* * *
JORDAN FELT AS if the evening would never end, even though Terri had relaxed and was joining more normally in the conversation, which had shifted to organic food. It wasn’t a debate since everyone seemed to agree that it might be a good idea.
Nicole leaned back in her chair while she drank from her glass of soda water. She wore a black T-shirt with close-fitting black jeans. Her famous “spun-gold” hair was fastened into a ponytail. There was nothing supermodel-ish about her, although even such casual clothing was clearly from the high end of the fashion world. Or was it the way she wore the clothes that made them seem that way?
The late Northwest evening stretched daylight past eight before it began fading.
Barton glanced at his watch. “Guess I’d better get going. Nicole, thank you for a great evening.”
“My pleasure. I’m glad you could come.”
Chelsea stood also. “It’s been terrific. Can I help clean up?”
“Nope, everything is in good shape. Besides, doesn’t Terri’s plane leave early tomorrow?”
That gave Jordan the excuse he needed to get out of there. “Yes,” he agreed, “I need to have her to the airport by seven.”
“I’m taking her,” Chelsea said.
“I...” He paused, suddenly remembering Nicole’s assertion about not treating Chelsea as a child who couldn’t handle her own life. His sister had made a huge independent step, and he probably wasn’t helping by rushing in to take care of things. “That’s great, but I’d like to see her off, too. May I tag along, and then we could all get breakfast at the airport?”
“That sounds nice.”
“Sure,” Terri said. She was staying with Chelsea for the night and suggested they pick him up in the morning.
A few minutes later he was in his car and Nicole was waving a courteous farewell to all her guests before disappearing inside. He wondered if she was breathing the same sigh of relief as he was.
Chapter Seven
NICOLE ARRIVED AT the agency by 6:00 a.m. on Monday. With the time required to work with Jordan for the PostModern article, she needed extra hours in the office. There wouldn’t be any backup this week, though Rachel was flying in the next weekend for a five-day stint. Having her partners there a portion of the time helped her while giving them more of a feel for the way things were developing.
Fierce concentration should get her through a respectable section of the paperwork that always waited for her. Fortunately, the financial side of the business was in the hands of an expert accounting firm that Kevin McClaskey had used for years. They handled income and payments so all she had to do was review it.
By ten thirty Nicole had finished the previous week’s financial review, set up several photo shoots and go-sees, earmarked three files for interviews as prospective clients, and even scribbled a few thoughts for the blog article Adam had asked her to consider.
Jordan was coming in at eleven and she decided to take a break and run next door for coffee, stopping on the way to see if Chelsea wanted some, too.
“That’s nice, but they filled a thermos for me this morning,” Chelsea told her.
Nicole laughed. “The original plan was to have a pot always going in the lounge area in the back, but the coffee at the Crystal Connection is so good, I usually don’t bother.”
“I could make coffee if you want me to.”
Chelsea’s eagerness to help was sweet, but Nicole didn’t want to take advantage. At any rate, the office manager job was already loaded with gofer duties. “Not right now, but I might take you up on that offer when there’s a lot of activity and we don’t have time to go out for it.”
“Whenever you want.”
The property that Nicole and her partners had bought from Kevin McClaskey was a large converted industrial building. Some of the shop spaces rented out to other businesses were accessed through an attractive atrium, although the Crystal Connection and Moonlight Ventures fronted on the parking lot.<
br />
“Hello,” Penny Parrish greeted Nicole as she walked into the shop. Penny and her husband sold beautiful crystals and polished rocks, but had added a coffee bar to bolster their profit margin.
“Hi,” Nicole replied. “I desperately need caffeine.”
Eric Parrish was already in the coffee bar. “Your usual?”
“Yes.” She handed him the insulated mug she’d brought.
It was amazing how well the Parrishes remembered their regulars’ preferences. Eric was the elder of the couple by sixteen years. Though now eighty, he showed no sign of wanting to retire. While Nicole admired his persistence and hoped to be equally as sharp mentally and physically at his age, it posed a potential issue for the agency. The Parrishes had a long-term lease in the location where she and her partners wanted to expand the agency, but that was something to worry about in the future.
The bell over the door tinkled and Jordan’s voice startled her. “Hey, Nicole.”
She swung around to face him. “Hi.”
“Chelsea told me you’d gone for coffee. I thought I’d pick some up, too.”
“The Crystal Connection has the best around.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Penny said.
Eric handed Nicole the cup filled with her favorite medium roast and she added a small amount of sugar with a larger share of cream. After learning how she liked it, they always left room for her preferences.
“How are things going at the agency?” Penny asked while entering the purchase into the computer register. For regulars, there was a running tab that got paid once a month.
“Great.”
“I met your new office manager. She seems nice.”
“She is.”
Nicole didn’t mention that Jordan was Chelsea’s brother. She waited while he paid for his order and they walked back together.
Chelsea looked up as they came through the door. “The general phone line has done nothing but ring since you left,” she said. “Some of the callers asked for you, but I took messages instead of sending them through to voice mail. Is that okay?”
“Definitely. Callers should be screened for the ones who have a relationship with the agency and for anything you can handle yourself. Besides, it’s faster for me to check written messages. Some of our clients can spend several minutes on voice mail trying to explain what they want without ever getting to the point.”
“The message slips are on your desk. None of them seem urgent, but you’ll want to check in case there’s something I missed.”
“Thanks.”
Leading the way back to her office, Nicole waved Jordan inside. He glanced around the room she’d designed for quiet elegance and functionality.
“Very polished,” he said. “The agency must be doing well.”
“Moonlight Ventures has always been a solid concern, and as I mentioned last week, we are working on expanding the business. Until my partners get here, that part is slow, but it’s part of our plan.”
She saw no reason to discuss the growing profits at the agency.
He sat in one of the comfortable chairs at the end of the office, away from her desk. Nicole recalled a seminar she’d once attended; the leader had talked about taking control of a situation by choosing where to sit in the room. But to protest Jordan’s choice of seat might seem petty, or make it appear she was on the defensive. So she just went to her desk and picked up the messages Chelsea had mentioned. Three were from people pushing to become clients of the agency. Chelsea was correct that nothing was urgent. That was a good sign. Some people thought everything was a crisis and it would be a godsend if Chelsea had enough judgment to tell the difference.
Seating herself on the opposite side of the small circle of chairs, Nicole smiled evenly at Jordan. Luckily she had oodles of practice looking comfortable in the most uncomfortable of circumstances. “Is this our first formal interview?”
“Yes, though I’d also like to see more of what you do in action.”
She’d anticipated that and had a few ideas that might bump him further out of his preconceptions. “That’s fine,” she agreed, “provided it doesn’t violate anyone’s privacy.”
“That’s a given. I realize you’ve only been an agent for five or six months, but what part of the work do you enjoy the least?”
“Having to tell someone the agency isn’t interested in representing them,” Nicole said promptly.
“I wouldn’t like that, either.”
“Some are rather arrogant or wildly ambitious for themselves or their children, and saying ‘no’ can spark an argument from them, so that isn’t pleasant. But the ones I hate turning down the most are the shy hopefuls, the people who long to be recognized as pretty or handsome or talented.”
Jordan’s face seemed carefully devoid of expression and she didn’t know if it was because he was trying to be aloof, or if he’d taken exception to something she’d said.
“It must be hard knowing how to say no tactfully since you’ve never been on the receiving end of that sort of message.”
She chuckled. “Is that what you think? I’ve been turned down my share of times. I even showed up once for a commercial and the director told me flat out that even though the advertiser had requested me, I was completely wrong and could just go home.”
“I can’t imagine why he felt that way.”
“That sounds suspiciously close to a compliment.”
“I’m simply aware that your type seems universally popular.”
“My type?”
“Golden-haired, sexy and classically beautiful. I’m not saying that to be flattering. You know what you look like.”
Nicole sat back in her chair. She wasn’t flattered. Jordan was right about how she’d been marketed and it would be hypocritical to pretend otherwise.
“So what does that have to do with this interview?” she asked.
“I wonder what it’s like to shift out of a career where you were in demand for your beauty. You’re behind the camera now, in a sense. That’s a wholly different dynamic.”
He’d led up to that question quite neatly.
* * *
JORDAN WATCHED VARIOUS expressions flitting across Nicole’s face. Assumptions were tricky. Until a week ago, he might have assumed she was having trouble being out of the limelight. But that wouldn’t make sense. She wasn’t a fading beauty, desperately longing to stay the center of attention. She’d left the field while she was still stunning and demand for her image was high; leaving had been her choice.
After a few moments her head tilted to an angle he’d seen in a dozen advertisements. “In a way, it’s a relief. There is a sense of loss, though I think that’s natural when someone is adjusting to change. I’m still sorting it out.”
The answer seemed straightforward, if not overly informative.
“Can you tell me what led you to make such a big change?”
“I couldn’t be a model forever, could I?”
“Some have done it much longer. Look at Christie Brinkley and Cheryl Tiegs. They’ve redefined how the world looks at women past a certain age, along with actresses such as Meryl Streep and Helen Mirren.”
“I know, but doing it now means I have more time to explore new possibilities. Helping other people succeed appeals to me. I’ve been lucky to have people help me and hope to do the same for others. Seems like a great way to make a living.”
“So you want to do something noble?” he asked. He was trying to restrain his skepticism, not wanting to be influenced by years of sour comments from his mother.
The memory of his discussion with Nicole on Saturday returned with ironic force. She’d wanted to know whether he’d like revealing how his family experiences had affected him. He definitely wouldn’t. On the other hand, everyone was affected by their past. Surely it was a legitimate line of question
ing. Or was it? She could be right claiming a man in her position wouldn’t be asked about parental influence.
“Becoming an agent isn’t about being noble,” Nicole said firmly. “I liked modeling and wanted a second career that would be equally interesting and mean something. This is what I chose.”
Jordan thought there was more she wasn’t saying, but he had plenty of time to get at the truth. If necessary, he’d just keep asking the same questions in different ways until he got the information.
“Planning a second career is common these days,” he said. “But usually not by someone who’s only thirty. That’s pretty young, especially if you still enjoyed modeling. Other models in your shoes have started businesses and run them at the same time they’ve remained in front of the camera.”
“Don’t forget that I’d been modeling since I was a baby,” she reminded him. “Three decades is a long career.”
“It was also a line of work you didn’t choose,” he said, avoiding pointing out that her parents were the ones who’d put her in front of the camera. “Did having a personal choice about running an agency influence your decision-making process? You said yourself that you modeled from infancy. It isn’t as if a baby says, ‘Yeah, sign me up.’”
Instead of immediately replying, Nicole took several sips of coffee. Unsure if she was road-blocking him or simply thinking, he drank from his own cup. Chelsea had been right, the Crystal Connection’s product was excellent. He hadn’t expected much from a coffee bar run out of a new age shop selling rocks and crystals.
Nicole had made it clear that she wanted her parents left out of the article. But his question was pertinent. He also didn’t think she’d mind as much if someone else was asking it.
Finally Nicole put down her cup. “Sorting out the motives for any decision can be complicated...and don’t think I didn’t notice that this is about my parents again and you’ve already asked about that. Although I had an agent, my folks made the final decisions for a long time. When I turned nineteen I took control of my career, which was a difficult adjustment for them. If I’d simply wanted to feel empowered, that would have been more than enough.”
Moonlight Over Seattle Page 11
