“We’ll leave as soon as you get there. The game starts after seven, but earlier is better for parking.”
“I wouldn’t want to hold you up or anything, so go without me if that’s best.”
“We’ll make it work. Don’t eat anything. Safeco has great food for dinner.”
“I’ve heard about the garlic fries.”
“They’re terrific.” Barton began relaxing. Chelsea was treating this like two friends going to a game. He’d once taken a woman on a first date to Safeco and she’d acted as if even suggesting garlic fries was death to romance. At least he’d found out right away that they weren’t compatible. As for Chelsea’s views? There was no way of knowing, but he was ready to let a friendship develop without pushing another agenda.
“I’ll get out of here so I don’t interfere with your work,” he said. “I come this way from the school, so I took a chance on dropping by instead of waiting to call once I got home.”
“I’m glad you did.”
He left with a wave and drove to his house whistling. This was definitely better than the funk he’d been living in for so long.
Leaving the car in the driveway for a quick departure later, he went through the front door to find Spike careening through the house with a yowl.
“Hey, buddy.”
Spike turned his big striped head to one side, then suddenly leaped into the air. Barton barely managed to catch him. The cat had never done it before, but now he looked self-satisfied and purred his loud motorboat rumble.
It might be a coincidence, but maybe Spike also recognized his human was feeling differently. For a while after Barton’s marriage splintered, it had seemed as if nothing would be normal or good again.
It was nice to know he’d been wrong.
* * *
JORDAN WIPED PERSPIRATION from his forehead. The unseasonably warm weather shouldn’t be a problem; after all, he’d just gotten back from Fiji where he’d never dressed in more than shorts and a T-shirt. Maybe his discomfort was from commiseration with the models, who were wearing heavy winter jackets under hot lights.
Nicole was consulting with her clients, giving them last-minute pointers. With her experience in the field, she seemed to be interpreting her role as an agent and coach. It reminded him that she’d claimed one of her interests was helping people be at their best.
“Remember,” Nicole finished, “though the final decision belongs to someone else, you can make diplomatic suggestions. Don’t be a complainer about things that don’t make a difference, but it’s all right to say if something makes you uneasy. The most important thing is listening to the people around you.”
The photographer approached and she stepped away from the set that held fake snow and a winter backdrop.
“Some of what you told them didn’t mean much to me, but the last part sounded like sensible advice,” Jordan said. “Do models turn into prima donnas very often?”
“It’s an occupational hazard. After all, it seems as if you’re the center of attention, the focus of the world, when it’s actually the image or product that they want to sell. Nothing damages a career faster than to turn into someone nobody wants to work with. At the same time, I want to protect my clients from feeling as if they have to put up with any treatment to get ahead. It’s a delicate balance.”
The next hour passed slowly as the models posed, took one coat off in obvious relief, only to sigh as they put on another one. The photographer tried using a fan to make it cooler for them, but it blew the fake snow around too much.
Nicole helped a few times, unobtrusively, but other than that, she watched carefully and made notes. After an hour and a half, she waved goodbye to the photographer and models.
“We can leave now if you like,” she told Jordan.
“Do agents usually spend a lot of time on the set with their clients?” he asked as they drove back to the agency.
She hesitated, though he wasn’t sure if it was the traffic making her pause, or if she was formulating her answer.
“Not usually,” she said at length. “When you have a large number of clients, it isn’t even possible, though the previous owner of Moonlight Ventures made a valiant effort. But these were all first-timers and the photographer was also new to me. I like to have some confidence that the situation is okay for our clients.”
“None of them seemed the type who’d do anything inappropriate.”
“You can’t tell just by looking.” An expression of distaste twisted her soft lips before her face smoothed out again. “Besides, that isn’t the only hazard to a model. Improperly managed equipment, for example, can be dangerous.”
“I’m sure your clients are grateful that you watch out for their welfare,” Jordan said, making a mental note to ask more about how her experiences as a model were influencing her actions as an agent. He had a feeling there was a history. And now that he thought about it, he remembered one of her partners at the agency had been badly injured on a set.
“It’s my job to do as much as I can.”
“Did your agent do the same?” he asked, deciding to probe while the subject was open.
Another pause as she navigated a left turn at a busy intersection.
“They didn’t spend much time on location, but I had good agents. The one I had the longest retired three years before I did. While the woman who took over was competent, it made me think about what I appreciated most in an agent.”
“So that helped fuel your choice of a second career?”
“I hadn’t thought of it before, but I’m sure the contrasting styles were a factor.”
Jordan began envisioning the sort of situation where a young woman might be vulnerable. Scantily clad girls with men having power over their career? The potential for problems was distasteful, and he was too realistic to believe they never happened. The question of whether it had ever happened to Nicole disturbed him as well. It was probably because he knew her; for anyone else it was theoretical.
“You’ve been in a dark reverie,” Nicole commented as she parked in front of the agency several minutes later.
“I’ve been thinking about the potential risks to people in your former line of work, especially when men have power over a woman’s career. Did you experience any sexual harassment?”
“Not often. I did have a close call with a photographer who thought sex with models was part of his compensation.” Her face was grim. “I got him fired from that particular job and later someone else went further. I understand he’s in jail now.”
“Good.”
“You said that passionately.”
“I don’t like victimizers. Taking advantage of someone with less power is contemptible.”
A smile turned up the left corner of her mouth. “That’s an excellent ethical standard.”
“Does it surprise you that I have ethical standards?”
“Not so much now, but it might have when we were kids.”
It had never occurred to Jordan to wonder what Nicole had thought of him when they were growing up. He’d called Nicole “the little princess” and hadn’t meant it in a complimentary way. To his friends he’d groused about his mother’s awe when it came to the girl who was pictured everywhere, though he’d never mentioned the spite his mom had later developed. But he had never thought about whether Nicole’s attitude toward him was positive or negative.
“So, what did you think of me back then?” he asked.
“When we were kids, you came off as a brat who didn’t care who he ran over or whether he hurt anyone. Literally, like the time you mowed me down when I was trying to learn how to skate. When we were older, it still seemed as if you didn’t care very much if what you said or did injured me or other people. You were also full of yourself, anxious to have sex with girls. Now I think you were trying to run so fast your feelings couldn’t catch up with you.”
As Jordan stared through the windshield, he wondered if Nicole had hit the mark.
“Really,” he said noncommittally.
Her head cocked. “It’s possible. Anyway, teenage boys tend to be driven by their hormones, which explains some of it.”
Curiously, Nicole wasn’t showing rancor over his past behavior. The quirk in her lips indicated humor instead.
“When did you stop holding my youthful transgressions against me?”
“Who said I have?”
“It’s obvious, or at least it seems that way.”
She unfastened her seat belt. “Everyone has to choose what portions of the past are going to matter. It’s part of growing up.”
“And I wasn’t significant enough to matter?”
“Heck, I never expected to see Jordan Masters again, so my memories of you got mostly sanitized. You know, bleached bones of history or something like that...something poetic.” There was a glint of amusement in her voice and eyes.
There was no denying that Nicole was entirely different than he had expected, and he shouldn’t have had expectations about her in the first place. Maybe he’d fallen into the trap of viewing her as two-dimensionally as a magazine layout. For one thing, he’d never imagined she had a sense of humor, or that she was rational and mature enough to shrug off old injuries.
Stupid of him.
He sighed. Maybe lingering guilt was responsible. After all, outside of the parties involved, he appeared to be the only one who knew what had really happened between their parents. Not that it mattered anymore. Nicole might not even care that his mother had tried to seduce her father. But he wasn’t sure. It was something he’d kept to himself for a long time, something that didn’t seem right to share. Now he wondered, particularly since learning his mother had taken the feud to social media, however briefly.
“Sorry, I have to cut this short,” Nicole said. “I need to get inside and finish up some work.”
“Of course.”
He climbed from the car, aware of her graceful movements as she did the same.
“There’s something else,” Nicole said after locking the vehicle. “I’d like to suggest that if we go somewhere together in the car, we don’t do interview questions while driving.”
“Why not? Multitasking gets more done.”
She shook her head. “Not everyone agrees that it’s productive. I’ve always had a preference for concentrating on one task at a time, and some recent studies indicate that it’s healthier.”
“Okay, we’ll play by your rules.”
“Not rules, just a mutual agreement. Okay?”
“Sure,” he said, knowing it would be useless for him, at least. They might agree to focus on a single task or subject at a time, but he had a feeling one track of his brain would be required to continue dealing with his libido—some things were inevitable.
“Great. When should we get together again?”
“How about tomorrow morning or afternoon?”
“Let me check my schedule.” She pulled out her phone and looked at it. “Tomorrow isn’t good and Wednesday afternoon I have another photo shoot. Also, at 11:00 a.m. Thursday I meet with a potential new client.”
“Could I sit in on both?” he asked, wondering if he was a masochist.
“I’ll check to see if it’s okay. The photo shoot isn’t a problem. It’s at a gym, so it’s a public location. Hopefully it will be cooler than today.”
“Uh, that sounds good.” He was disappointed that it wasn’t outdoors, but it would still be a more relaxed setting than a photographer’s studio. “What time?”
“I need to leave just before 1:00 p.m. to allow for traffic. The shoot starts at 2:00.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
He indulged himself by watching her walk toward the front door of the agency. The hardest part was where to let his gaze linger. Nicole had plenty of attractive curves and a single-minded focus on them would provide a man with a huge amount of fuel for his imagination.
* * *
NICOLE SAW JORDAN’S reflection on the window as she walked across the small parking lot. She wondered if he realized she could see him in the reflective coating on the glass almost as well as he could see her.
It was tempting to turn around and do something outrageous, but she couldn’t think of the right gesture. Besides, it would be childish.
Yet for some reason she thought about something she’d seen at Emily’s wedding. The groom’s brothers had painted “Thnx” on the sole of one shoe, and “Em” on the other, so when the pastor asked them to kneel at the altar, the words were visible to the guests. It had appealed to the sentimentality Nicole tried to keep hidden. Her parents must have guessed part of what she’d felt—which might be one of the reasons they’d believed the wedding had influenced her to change her life.
As she went through the door, Nicole reminded herself that she didn’t need romance. Still, she flicked a glance backward and saw that Jordan was now headed for his vehicle. His standing there, seeming to watch her walk away, probably hadn’t meant anything; most likely he’d been contemplating whether he wanted to go in and say hello to his sister.
“Hi, Chelsea,” she said, stepping into the cool reception area, heartily glad she’d insisted they have air-conditioning installed. In Seattle it might not be needed on a regular basis, but when it was needed, it was really needed.
The new office manager’s face was pink and excited.
“Something happen?” Nicole asked.
“Oh, nothing. For the agency, that is. Um, Barton Smith dropped by this afternoon to see me. I hope it’s all right.”
“It’s fine,” Nicole assured her. “What did he want?”
“He had extra tickets to the Mariners game tonight and asked if I wanted to go.”
Glancing at the clock, Nicole saw it was almost four thirty. “That’s great. Leave now so you can get a jump on the evening.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Sure you can. I’m the boss and it makes me feel good to tell you to go home early once in a while.”
“Okay. Thanks so much.”
With a shy smile, Chelsea quickly turned off the computer and was gone. Since a legitimate visitor would ring the doorbell, Nicole locked the front door and went to her office. She wished she’d brought Toby for companionship, though it would have been awkward taking him outside to do his business.
She couldn’t deny that she was lonely once in a while. But she’d felt that way sometimes before moving to Seattle and it didn’t mean anything. Besides, her partners would be here before long and she was making new friends. Today she should get a stack of files together so she could work at home on the deck, Toby at her side.
As she straightened her shoulders, Nicole’s spirits rose. Moments of loneliness aside, she liked how everything was going.
Chapter Nine
CHELSEA WATCHED AS they inched forward in the heavy traffic and wondered if they’d be able to get parking. She’d already learned that Seattle had traffic congestion issues, just like LA.
“I’m awfully sorry,” she said. “You probably would have preferred leaving even earlier, instead of waiting for me.”
Barton’s eyebrows rose. “Nonsense. I’m just glad you were able to come.”
“What if the parking garage is full?”
“We’ll deal with it. There’s lots of parking, I just prefer the garage across the street from the stadium entrances. Besides, I doubt this will be a top attendance night, so we should be fine.”
“You act as if it’s no big deal.”
“That’s because it isn’t.”
Chelsea relaxed slightly. It was hard to stop reacting as if she was still with Ron—to him, everything had been a huge deal. He would have berated her all the way to the ballpark, despite her gett
ing home sooner than expected.
Barton probably thought she was an idiot for saying anything—after all, he was the one who’d invited her, aware that she had to work until five, and he hadn’t known Nicole would let her leave a half hour early. If they were going to be friends, she had to remember Barton was his own man.
Despite the slow traffic, they managed to arrive in time to get the desired parking.
Safeco Field itself was splendid. It had a retractable roof, but Barton explained that even when it was closed for rain, there was plenty of open air on the sides. Today the roof was retracted and she was delighted to see seagulls go sailing through.
“These are good seats,” she said as the first inning ended.
“Better than I normally get.” Barton suddenly appeared uptight. “On a teacher’s salary, I’m usually in the family section.”
“Same here. There’s nothing wrong with economy—and the family section is nice because of the rules about alcohol—but it’s fun to enjoy treats like this when they come our way.”
He grinned and seemed less tense. “Absolutely.”
During the third inning they hurried out and got food. There were several cuisines to choose from, but they both opted for traditional ballpark fare. Barton seemed amazed when she squirted a huge blob of mustard beside her garlic fries.
“Mustard and fries?” he asked.
“It sounds strange to some people, but I like it.”
He tried it himself and added a large serving of mustard to his French fry container. “It’s terrific. I’ve been missing out.”
Ron had done the same thing on an early date, later saying he’d “endured” it so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with her weird choice. Once again she reminded herself that she couldn’t keep seeing Barton or anyone else through the lens of the past. It wasn’t fair and could mess up a friendship.
Returning to their seats, they saw that the score hadn’t changed. There weren’t any significant plays during the next inning as they ate their fries and hot dogs. The people around them grumbled at the lack of runs for the Mariners, but Chelsea was having too much fun to care.
Moonlight Over Seattle Page 13
