Ringing the bell at the house didn’t get an answer, so Jordan dialed Nicole’s cell.
“Yes?” Her voice was breathless.
“It’s Jordan. Are you home? I’m at your front door.”
“I’m still digging, getting ready to start more planting.”
“I hoped that was what you’d be doing. You’ve gotten me interested in seeing how everything will grow.”
“Really? I seem to remember you claiming it was pointless to raise my own veggies when I could easily buy them.”
Jordan winced.
“I’ve come around to your way of thinking,” he said firmly. “I even brought a peace offering.”
The door opened and Nicole stood there wearing shorts and a T-shirt, her forehead damp with perspiration. The day abruptly got much warmer. He turned off his cell phone and dropped it in a pocket, trying to keep his body from reacting.
She cocked her head. “What’s the peace offering?”
“You mentioned wanting to plant another apple tree, so I got one.” Jordan pointed to his small sports car. The top was down and the vehicle seemed dwarfed by the tree slanting over the passenger area. The root ball, a term he’d learned at the nursery, was on the floor of the car, while the top branches extended past the miniscule trunk.
“What kind of apple?” Nicole asked.
“Fuji. You said you needed a second one for pollination.”
“Okay, bring it out.”
Turning, she walked toward the back of the house, Toby tagging along, and Jordan was treated to another delicious view of her curves.
Putting a firm grip on his libido, he got the tree and went around by the side gate. It was awkward and heavy and he was breathing hard by the time he’d reached the large section of the property fenced off for a vegetable plot. Nicole eyed the space along the side, then grabbed a shovel and started digging.
“I’ll do that,” he offered.
“You came to work? I thought you were just bringing a peace offering.”
“As it turns out, I enjoyed myself the other day.”
Nicole’s expression was skeptical. “I also thought you avoided hearth and home activities.”
“It may take me a while to admit it, but I’m capable of, uh, appreciating new experiences.”
He’d almost said he could change and had made a fast substitution.
“Anyhow,” he said to distract himself, “the manager at the nursery said to dig a hole twice as wide and deep as the root ball. The idea is to loosen up the soil so the roots can expand quickly and provide stability for the tree. That’s a whole lot of digging. At the very least we can take turns.” He fished out the sheet of paper he’d been given with instructions on proper planting. Nicole took the paper to read, while he snagged the shovel.
Toby wisely stayed several feet away, but he seemed fascinated by the activity.
“Why did you get such a big tree?” Nicole asked at length. “I was just thinking about getting a little one.”
“This one might start producing fruit faster. The nursery says they have a service where they’ll come out and plant them, but I figured you’d want to do it instead.”
It took a while, but once the hole was deep and wide enough, Jordan lifted the tree out of the container, shook it to loosen the roots, and held it straight while Nicole pushed the dirt in.
“There, that’s good,” she said finally.
Jordan wiped his forehead. “You mentioned plums, apricots and cherries. Are there any special varieties you want?”
“I have to research which ones grow best up here. I’d also love citrus, but I don’t think they’d work in the Northwest without a greenhouse.”
He mentally measured the area. “You have room for one with this huge lot. You know, most people who buy something this large are thinking about family space,” he said, picking his words carefully.
Nicole raised an eyebrow. “I suppose it seems strange to a guy with a one-bedroom condo.”
“How do you know the size of my place?”
“Chelsea mentioned it.”
“Well, it doesn’t make sense to have something larger with all the traveling I do.”
It was true, but Jordan had also seen his condo as a message to the women he dated—evidence of his disinterest in starting a family. It was the same with his two-seater sports car—definitely not a family vehicle. Now both seemed a hollow gesture.
“I suppose.”
Nicole turned on the hose and gave Toby a drink before watering the new tree. It gave Jordan a strange sensation to watch her. Nurturing wasn’t a word he would have associated with a supermodel famous for wearing the hottest clothes in high fashion. Yet despite Nicole’s ability to look sensational in the simplest of outfits, she was a caring person.
Jordan sighed, thinking about all the stupid things he’d said since they day they’d met again. He’d dug a deep hole for himself, and not just in the ground.
Now he’d have to discover if he could climb out—and once he did, what he wanted to do.
* * *
CHELSEA SMILED AS Adam Wilding came into the reception area. When she first met him, she’d been dazzled by his good looks. Now she was able to see Adam as a nice boss who fit in well with Nicole and Rachel. The only partner she hadn’t met was Logan, but she wasn’t nervous about him any longer.
“It was a lucky day for us when you came looking for your brother,” Adam said, handing her a stack of paperwork.
“Thanks, I feel lucky to work here.”
“In three weeks I’ll be at the agency full-time. The Realtor gave me the keys to my new loft this week.”
The door chimed and a young man came inside. “I’m Drew Goldstein. I, um, have an appointment.”
“Please come to my office,” Adam invited. “I know you expected to see Nicole George today, but I’m one of her partners. She’s out, so we’ll be talking.”
To Drew’s credit, he didn’t look disappointed that he wouldn’t be meeting one of the hottest women to ever grace a magazine cover.
Chelsea went through the reports. She’d set up a computer program to track information on clients so they’d have a quick reference. She swiftly entered the data and after a while, realized she was smiling for no special reason.
Being happy was a new experience for her, but she was beginning to think it was a possibility, and not just on the job. Barton actually discussed things with her...significant things like feelings, choices and values. Most important, he was willing to consider how their behavior affected each other. The night before they’d kept talking while fixing dinner, and then long into the night. It amazed her that he was willing to set limits and make adjustments. Maybe it wasn’t that unique, but she’d never seen it before in a guy who was interested in her.
The way Barton was acting also made her think a future with him might actually be possible. On the other hand, they’d agreed neither of them were quite ready, even though he’d confessed that his own feelings were becoming more serious.
It worried her to think that by taking her time she could miss out on something special. But Barton insisted he was okay with going slowly, that he wanted them both to be sure.
Poor guy. He’d told her more about his marriage and how he still blamed himself for its failure, since the biggest problem had been Ellyn’s inability to adjust to his career change.
But Chelsea didn’t know what else Barton could have done. He’d hated being a stockbroker as much as Ellyn had hated being married to a teacher who didn’t have a stockbroker’s income. And he wanted kids, while she’d been opposed to having a family. Perhaps if they’d spent more time getting to know each other before marriage, they would have discovered how different their interests were.
“I rushed things,” Barton had said. “So you see, taking our time works well for me, too.”
>
In a way it remained hard for Chelsea to believe him. She supposed that was another thing she’d have to work on, learning to trust him and her own perceptions about the kind of man he was.
Still, hope kept springing up and making her happier. Maybe she should just be grateful.
* * *
NICOLE WAS SURPRISED when Jordan stayed and kept working with her in the garden. If it had been another guy she might have been annoyed, and part of her was frustrated. What was he doing, hanging around and making it ever more difficult for her to stop having romantic daydreams?
Seriously, what kind of idiot was she to picture a little girl with Jordan’s dark hair trotting alongside the wheelbarrow as he pushed it? Or a boy with golden curls, climbing the apple tree as it grew?
Over and over she reminded herself that Jordan wasn’t prime family material to start with. His only preparation for a relationship was arguments, infidelity and domestic violence. His early aversion to marriage was probably based on those negative experiences. Then he’d discovered that being single gave him the life he wanted. So why shouldn’t he be happy in it? Why would she want him to change that decision and take the chance of making him unhappy?
“How many peas are we going to plant?” he asked, crouching along a furrow and poking a seed into the soil.
We.
Why did he have to use words like that?
“The whole row,” she answered, amazed her words came out so evenly. “I’ve got stakes and strings for them to climb up.”
He nodded and kept planting, carefully inserting the seeds in the way the seed packet had recommended.
Okay, she needed to be fair. She’d already realized that Jordan didn’t do anything halfway. So if he made a real commitment, she found it difficult to believe he’d resort to the lifestyle his parents had practiced.
Yet as she watched him dig up a pea and replant it, she wondered about how badly he needed things to be perfect and orderly. Every marriage had problems. Each relationship hit rocky sections. You woke up in the morning and it wasn’t a supermodel or a handsome prince you were married to, but a real person. Because of the rotten example of marriage Jordan had seen as a kid, he might find it harder than the average person to deal with problems. Perhaps he’d always worry that things would slide into chaos.
“You look as if you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he commented as he helped stretch strings from one stake to another.
“I’m just dwelling on life and decisions.”
“Anything that could shed light on the articles?”
She was glad he’d attributed her comment to something less personal than matters of the heart. They’d been talking for hours and he finally seemed satisfied with the material he had for PostModern, but he was probably open to new insights.
“Not especially. It isn’t that unusual to change careers. Don’t statistics show that most people won’t retire from the first job they get?” she asked lightly.
“Absolutely. I think that’s why articles like this are important to PostModern’s readers. Many of them will face similar decisions, so reading how another person did it could be enlightening.”
“Are you going to include a comment about that in the articles?” Nicole asked.
“How do you mean?”
“It would be easy for some people to see a feature about a well-known model as just hype to sell more copies.”
Jordan nodded. “Good point, especially since I know that isn’t why Syd wanted a story about you.”
“Then why did she?”
“She thought your transition from being in front of the camera to behind the scenes would be interesting. But she also said that your choice involved giving up the kinds of things that some people badly want—money and fame. It adds a different dimension.”
Nicole couldn’t help wondering how he planned to characterize her choices. With any other reporter, she wouldn’t care, since she’d learned long ago not to base her life on other people’s opinions.
If only she hadn’t fallen in love...
With a painful pressure in her chest, she acknowledged the truth. She had fallen for Jordan. It was stupid and she knew better. There was little chance he would ever want to stay in one place or get married, even if he loved her in return, which seemed unlikely.
Her romantic nature was warring with her good sense and it didn’t matter which won the battle, she was going to be left hurting.
Still, when the afternoon drew to a close and Jordan suggested ordering a pizza, she didn’t object, even though good sense argued hard for ending the evening.
The pizza that was delivered thirty minutes later included her favorite toppings—mushrooms, zucchini, artichoke hearts and onions. Jordan had obviously paid attention to her preferences, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He had a good memory and whether it was for the purposes of seduction or getting a good interview, he knew how to create the right atmosphere.
Part of her hoped he might be angling for a night together. With the hard work in the garden, it wasn’t unreasonable to consider a trip to the hot tub to ease aching muscles. And from there it was a short journey to her bed.
But he didn’t get seductive. While they ate, he chatted in a casual manner.
“You mentioned writing a blog about being interviewed,” he said. “Any progress on that?”
“I’ve made notes, but there hasn’t been much time.”
“It might have been interesting to do a daily blog. You know, what your thoughts were, how you saw the questions, the challenges, though I’m sure the magazine would have wanted you to wait to post anything until after the article was published.”
“You weren’t thrilled when I mentioned the blog.”
“I’m getting accustomed to the idea. I told Syd about it the other day and she thought it could be an intriguing counterpoint to the article.”
“I’ve been afraid it would come off too much as a ‘dear diary’ thing.”
She’d actually written every day in her journal, but a great deal of it—especially since they’d slept together—wasn’t for public consumption.
“Isn’t that what blogs are?”
“No need for another one, then,” she said lightly.
They were sitting on the deck, the early evening sunlight glinting across the yard. Despite the pull of desire, what tugged on her most was the thought of eating with a man who wanted nothing more out of life than to come home and have dinner with his wife and family. Once that was something she’d dreamed of having. Then she’d given up the idea, so why did she keep thinking about it? How could hope be that persistent, and foolish?
Because while Jordan might find pleasure in planting a garden, it was only the first step. Weeds would come up. Bugs would nibble on the leaves. Sometimes plants didn’t yield a crop. That was reality.
She had to stop being an idiot.
Chapter Seventeen
JORDAN COULDN’T READ Nicole’s mood. She’d worked hard throughout the afternoon, exuding the sexy energy for which she was known. At the same time she had chatted pleasantly, and now sat at the deck table with her customary grace. Toby lay with his head against her ankle, sound asleep.
After dinner she made coffee and Jordan lingered, wishing he could stay. But it wasn’t just about sex. Everything felt more vital around Nicole. She had a sharp mind with broad interests that made her a dynamic conversationalist. Yet from various things she’d said, he suspected many men had only been interested in her surface beauty.
His mind drifted back to their high school years...and Lissa Anderson’s birthday bash. It had been talked about as the party of the year, which was what Lissa had wanted. Well, party of the year until the police had arrived.
“No matter how hard I try,” he said idly, “I can’t remember kissing you at Lissa’s party.
Of course, I really don’t remember much from that night, period.”
Nicole looked amused. “I’m not surprised. I went to Hawaii the next day for a modeling gig. When I got back, I realized you didn’t have a clue.”
“Sorry.”
“Hardly the crime of the century, though for your sake I’m glad you didn’t keep drinking that much.”
He shuddered. “Amen to that. Getting so drunk I can’t remember what happened? That was the first and last time.”
“As far as you know.”
Her sly smile made him chuckle. “Let’s just say it’s a memory I regret not having.”
Nicole shook her head, still smiling. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even if it hadn’t been after our folks ended their friendship, wouldn’t you have found it hard to handle the knowledge that you’d kissed someone you disliked so much?”
Okay, she had a point. At the time he would have been upset and angry and probably would have taken his feelings out on her even more. So it was a good thing he hadn’t remembered.
“No answer?” she prompted.
“You’re absolutely right. I wouldn’t have appreciated it at all and likely would have reacted badly, so it’s just as well. But having had a similar kiss as an adult, I can look back on my teenage self and know I missed out on pure gold.”
“Oh.”
“I mean it.”
“In that case, thank you.”
He stood, taking her hand and drawing her up with him.
“How about letting me catch up on memories, since you’re one ahead of me?” Dropping his head, he laid a layer of small kisses down the angle of her cheekbone. “Mmmm.”
Her breath was coming raggedly as he pressed his lips against hers. It felt as if the energy from a locomotive was whizzing through his veins. Their mouths opened and he dipped his tongue between her teeth to stroke hers. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and he wanted to see them again so badly he could believe that it was possible for men to die from pure, unanswered need.
But he could also feel the slight resistance from Nicole, so he forced himself to loosen his grip and step backward.
Moonlight Over Seattle Page 24
