NICOLE WONDERED WHAT Jordan was thinking about; there was a relaxed smile on his face, as if he was contemplating something pleasant. Probably her imagination.
The traffic was stop-and-go, even on surface streets.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a particularly long wait on the freeway. “My talk with the other models probably put us in even worse traffic than if we’d left immediately.”
“I doubt it made much difference and you’re the one paying the price, if there is one. All I have to do is sit back and relax while you drive.”
“How about avoiding this mess by getting a bite to eat? Or do you have plans?”
“No plans, so I guess it’s all right.”
A freeway exit was ahead and Jordan went off with a string of other vehicles. He seemed to know where he was headed and soon turned into a restaurant parking lot.
“I eat here often,” he said.
Nicole made sure to get out before he had a chance to walk around to the passenger side. She had a feeling the restaurant was a place where he normally took a date. If they were observed, she wanted this to appear to be what it was, a simple business dinner.
“Mr. Masters,” the maître d’ greeted him, “how nice to see you. Did you have a pleasant trip to Fiji?”
“Excellent. I didn’t make a reservation, but we were stuck in traffic and stopping for dinner made more sense than sitting in gridlock. Is there any possibility of getting a table?”
“It’s before the rush and there’s always room for you.” The man’s gaze shifted to Nicole and he bowed slightly. “Ms. George, isn’t it? I read that you had moved to Seattle. Welcome.”
“Thank you,” Nicole acknowledged. The restaurant was the sort of high-class establishment where the staff expected to see people from the news. As time passed, she’d be recognized less often and become more anonymous. Agents simply didn’t have the same public profile.
With Jordan there to interview and probe her transition to a behind-the-scenes agent, she was asking herself the kind of questions he might have asked, such as...how would she feel about becoming a face in the crowd?
Being human, the answer was complicated. Part of her would miss the attention. She recalled reruns of an old television series she’d seen as a kid. The theme song had said something about being in a place where everyone knew your name. Undoubtedly it was nice to be recognized in certain situations.
“What are you thinking about?” Jordan asked as they were seated at a discreetly secluded table.
“Honestly? About what it will be like when waiters don’t recognize me any longer. It isn’t as if I’m known everywhere I go, but for a while there will be restaurants like this one, where I’ve never eaten and I’m still greeted by name.”
“Will it bother you if people forget?”
“It’s inevitable they’ll forget, so there’s no ‘if’ about it. I bet even the most famous actors and actresses walk into places where people don’t recognize them. And once they move out of the public eye, they’re naturally recognized less often.”
“You sound pragmatic about it.”
“There isn’t much point in being anything else.”
His intense brown eyes studied her. Jordan had the same rugged good looks as a man like Matt Damon, only his coloring was dark. No doubt Jordan had sat in this restaurant many times with a woman who’d felt fortunate to enjoy his attention for the evening. She might have felt the same...if she didn’t know every word from her mouth could end up in print.
“You still haven’t said whether it will bother you to be unknown,” he prompted.
“I don’t think it will, but no one can say for sure how they’ll react as time goes on.”
“You aren’t a diva.”
“And you sound surprised by that.”
“I’m always surprised when I look in the rearview mirror and see my preconceptions lying in pieces on the road.”
Grinning, Nicole sipped from the goblet of ice water the waiter had brought. Jordan wasn’t the only one whose beliefs had been run over by current experience.
“It’s odd,” she said, “when you realize how many alternate realities are possible in life.”
“How do you mean?”
“If certain things had been different, we might have become friends, the way you and Emily were. I know you and Em are the same age, but you were only two years older than me and we lived close to each other.”
“So what would have had to be different?”
“I’m sure it would have helped if I hadn’t seen you as an arrogant egotist and you hadn’t seen me as a brain-dead puppet.”
He grimaced. “You knew I called you that?”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. There were kids who couldn’t wait to tell me whatever names you or someone else devised for me. High school was the worst. You were the star, whether it was in soccer or one of the other sports, while most kids either resented me or tried to suck up in hopes of getting something.”
“You were invited to parties, but you mostly didn’t go. The other kids thought you were too stuck-up.”
“I was embarrassed to explain my parents wouldn’t let me because they were afraid I’d mess up my clean teen image.”
He looked rueful. “Our fellow students probably would have resented that as well.”
“Probably. Lissa Anderson was furious when I sneaked out to her birthday bash and my parents showed up to rescue me from the wild crowd, then called the police after we were safely away. It caused quite a ruckus. Lissa said she’d been humiliated in front of everyone who mattered and would never forgive me. I didn’t get many invitations after that. She made sure of it.”
His brow creased. “Did I go to Lissa’s party?”
“Yes, but you were drunk by nine. Lissa’s parents weren’t there and they hadn’t locked up their liquor. Most of the kids were drinking.”
“I’m impressed you remember.”
“Well...” Nicole hesitated, wondering if she should tell him what had happened, but it wasn’t important enough to keep secret. “Mostly I remember because when I went out to the patio for air, you grabbed me and gave me a very hot kiss.”
* * *
JORDAN’S MOUTH WENT DRY. In his high school years he would have been mortified to know he’d kissed “the brain-dead puppet.” Now he’d give a lot to remember it—which made him a fool, since he was already having a difficult enough time controlling his response to her.
“Should I apologize?” he asked finally.
Nicole chuckled with easy humor. “If it mattered, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. We were kids. You were a typical teenage boy, into sports and cars. I was a weird teenage girl with one foot in high school and the other in the bizarre world of modeling.”
At the moment, trying to wrap his brain around the image of them pressed closed together was too much of a challenge, so he focused on her choice of words.
“Do you tell your clients that modeling is a bizarre world?”
“I’m honest with them.”
“Does your family appreciate the description? You mentioned that they made the decisions about your career until you were nineteen.”
Her gaze dropped to the menu. “I don’t say it to them, since they’d consider it a criticism. As fashion buyers they love the culture surrounding haute couture and advertising. Having a daughter they could promote as a model involved them even deeper in the international fashion scene and gave them even more influence.”
“Is it a criticism?”
She lifted her eyes again and stared at him frankly. “Every life, every career, every choice we make is full of pros and cons. When I was a kid, the only reason I knew my parents’ life in the fashion industry was bizarre was when I saw how other people lived. Maybe the hardest part was knowing my sister was getting left out. It kept us from being as close as we should have been. I love Emily, but we don’t have much in common and I don’t know how to bridge the gap, especially now that she’s married and starting a family in another state.”
“Why especially?”
“Because I don’t expect marriage and children will be a part of my life.”
His start of surprise must have been obvious, for her brow rose and she regarded him with a bland expression.
“That’s unusual. Why don’t you think your life will include those things?” he asked.
“You think it’s perfectly all right for a cynical columnist to be happy with his bachelor life, but a woman can’t make the same choice without it being questionable?” she countered.
Jordan felt the walls closing in him again...cave walls and he was a Neanderthal. Only a man mired in old-fashioned stereotypes assumed all women wanted marriage and children. Still, his gut told him that Nicole wasn’t being entirely truthful. But the article he was writing wasn’t about her love life and asking out of personal interest was too, well, personal.
He’d be wise to keep his distance from anything approaching intimacy. Yet his job as a reporter was to get at the real Nicole. It was a quandary he didn’t know how to resolve.
* * *
BARTON DROVE TOWARD his house, whistling happily. He was tired—short nights could do that to a guy—but some things were worth a few after-the-fact yawns. Monday’s game had gone into extra innings and he was still catching up on sleep. He’d offered to leave at ten and, to his delight, Chelsea had made a face at him.
“Leave?” she’d asked. “With the score tied and the home team needing support? What kind of fan are you?”
The Mariners had won the game at midnight. Chelsea had cheered and clapped along with the faithful diehards in the stadium, and then they’d made their way to the parking garage. With the late hour, the traffic wasn’t bad and getting home hadn’t taken long.
Part of him had wanted to kiss Chelsea good-night, but she’d stopped him from even going up the stairs to her apartment door. Instead he’d watched until she was safely inside, then strode home to slide into bed and think about what a great evening it had been.
Now as Barton came down the street, he saw Chelsea walking up the sidewalk in shorts and a light sweatshirt. The air felt hot to him, but it wasn’t unusual for newcomers to find Seattle weather cooler than people who’d lived there for a while. He braked and rolled down his window.
“Hi, Chelsea. There’s a great walking trail at the park. If you’re interested, we could go together.”
He liked the quick, shy smile she gave him.
“Okay.”
“Do you want to ride back to the house with me?”
“No, I’ll meet you there.”
Once home, he hurriedly changed into casual clothing and was ready when she came up the driveway. He knew he might be rushing things with Chelsea, but he wasn’t thinking completely straight around her, despite the voice of caution in his head.
“How was your day?” she asked as they headed for the park.
“Mostly right now it’s riding herd on kids who can’t wait for summer break to get here. The unseasonable weather is making them stir-crazy.”
“I remember how it felt to be anxious for summer, though I could also be sad if I really liked my teacher.”
“Did you enjoy school?”
“Um...sometimes. When I didn’t, it wasn’t because of school. My home life was messed up.”
Barton saw a fleeting sadness on her face. “That’s too bad.”
“It’s just the way it was. My folks had problems. I think we were all relieved when they finally got a divorce.”
He winced.
“Did I say something wrong?” Chelsea asked.
“No, I was thinking. I got divorced two years ago and I was grateful that we didn’t have kids to be hurt by our failure. Odd, because I’d really love to have children.”
“I’ve heard that teachers sometimes change their minds about having a family.”
He shook his head. “Not me. There are days when I pray I won’t make the blunders that produced a few of the students in my class, but I’ve never stopped wanting kids of my own.”
“I know what you mean. I swear that I won’t make my parents’ mistakes, then humility forces me to admit that I’ll probably screw up my own way.”
Barton glanced at Chelsea. Essentially she’d told him she hoped to have family someday, which was nice. Looking back he couldn’t honestly say that his ex-wife had ever expected them to have children. Maybe if he’d listened closely enough when he and Ellyn were dating, he would have realized they were in completely different places about what they wanted.
“Reality knocks us all down to size,” he murmured. “But we have to hope that love will make up for some of the inevitable errors.”
“Yeah, and that they’ll forgive us for the rest.”
He grinned. “You bet.”
They reached the park and Barton veered toward the hiking trail. “Runners are discouraged from using this one,” he explained, “and bicycles aren’t allowed.”
“That’s good. I’m uncomfortable sharing a trail with bikes. One knocked me down a while back and just kept going.”
“That’s awful. At least they’re reasonably courteous in this neighborhood.”
Chelsea nodded, but despite his reassurance, she seemed uncertain and Barton wondered what made her so tentative at times. During the excitement of the game, she’d come out of herself; now she was more guarded. Perhaps that was to be expected, especially when making a new acquaintance.
Something Terri had said in passing made him think Chelsea had recently gone through a bad breakup. Maybe she was still picking up the pieces. He could definitely sympathize.
In the meantime, he would to do his best to get to know her better. He was sure she was worth the effort.
* * *
NICOLE ENJOYED THE perfectly prepared shrimp scampi she’d ordered, trying to ignore the raw tension inside of her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have told Jordan about that long-ago kiss, but it had seemed silly not to mention it. The same with the time Jordan had knocked her down when she was trying to skate. The events had been meaningless kid stuff, yet his eyes had flared in a very un-kidlike way when she’d explained about them kissing.
It didn’t help that the restaurant’s atmosphere made the meal feel like part of a romantic tryst...low lights, flowers and candles on the linen-covered table topped by fine china and crystal. But she and Jordan didn’t want anything together, despite whatever physical attraction existed between them.
“Would you care for dessert?” he asked as the waiter cleared their dishes.
“Not for me, but go ahead.”
“I’m fine. With luck, the traffic has eased up by now.”
“I hope your meal was adequate, Ms. George,” the maître d’ said in calm understatement as they neared the door.
“Everything was delicious,” Nicole assured him.
“As always,” Jordan added.
She breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped outside and the aura of romance vanished. As they walked toward the car she drew a calming breath and glanced around, appreciating the evening light. “Seattle is a beautiful city. I’m looking forward to the long days during summer.”
“Short winter days are the downside.”
“True,” she conceded. “But while it may not be your idea of a great evening, I love curling up with a good book by the fire. And this year I’ll have Toby lying near the hearth. I suppose you pop off to Hawaii or the southern hemisphere when the worst of winter approaches.”
“I spend a fair amount of time away,” he conceded. “As I’ve mentioned, I can work from anywhere, even in a hammock under a palm tree.”
“A rare and pleasant circumstance.”
“But you chose a second career that keeps you tied to the same place most of the time. I know we’ve talked about this a little already, but weren’t you tempted to retire and enjoy a leisurely life style?”
Nicole shrugged. If they were two other people, someone might think they were innocently chatting, getting to know one another as friends or potential lovers. Instead, anything she said would have a good chance of finding its way into a PostModern article.
“I was tempted,” she acknowledged, “but it didn’t seem like much of a life goal. I wanted to accomplish something.”
“So you don’t anticipate any regrets?”
“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be nice to fly off to Paris or Rome whenever the urge strikes, but I’m putting something else first. And as I’ve indicated, once my partners are all here, I’ll have more time for other things.”
Jordan inclined his head and she could practically see the wheels turning in his journalistic brain. “Aside from reading, what other hobbies do you enjoy?” he asked.
“I’m still figuring that out. I’m curious about many things and would love a pastime that I could be excited about.” She grinned. “You know that movie, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? I love the diary Indy’s father kept for years, filled with arcane details and lore about the Grail. It might be fun to get totally absorbed by something. Does that sound silly to you?”
They’d gotten into the car while talking and there was a funny smile playing on Jordan’s lips.
“I have to confess,” he finally said, “I have a book like that. Actually, more than one. I’ve collected every single bit of information and speculation about Sasquatch that I can find. Go ahead and poke fun at me.”
“Not at you,” she assured. “You live in the Northwest and Bigfoot is a big thing here...if you’ll forgive the sort-of pun.”
“In my case I’m fascinated that modern people still persist in believing without real scientific evidence.”
“So you don’t actually believe in Sasquatch yourself, it’s more about his followers?”
“I’m keeping an open mind. They discover new species every day, so anything is possible.”
Like Nicole’s earlier suspicion that Jordan had latent knightly impulses, his interest in Sasquatch gave her an unusual glimpse into his psyche. On the other hand, she wasn’t entirely certain he was telling the truth; he might be teasing her.
“Do you include the yeti in your research?” she inquired.
He started the car. “I’ve concentrated on local legends.”
“But the yeti could be Bigfoot’s cousin. You might be ignoring a branch of the family.”
“There’s a thought. If the Bigfoot info runs dry, perhaps I’ll head to the Himalayas and check on yeti references. Or maybe you could do that for me.”
“Hey, I’m not your leg man. I’ll find my own obsession.”
“I’m not obsessed,” he complained in a light tone. “I just enjoy being well-informed on the subject.”
“Do you have a Bigfoot lamp hidden in your closet?” she inquired, hoping to keep up the relaxed conversation until they ended the evening. Anything was better than the yearning to invite him home to spend the night.
“Nope, I’m an information man. But I confess to having Harry and the Hendersons on Blu-ray.”
His embarrassed smile convinced her he was telling the truth about his hobby. The film, however sweet, was hardly in the top ten best-known flicks.
“I like that movie, too, especially Harry’s distress when he sees the husband helping his wife into a hot tub.”
“Be careful,” Jordan warned, “it’s only a small leap from where you are to tracking down old folk tales and newspapers on microfilm.”
Nicole turned toward him. “That sounds cool.”
“It’s amazing to tread through the old reports, quite apart from anything related to Sasquatch.”
The skeptical mask that Jordan habitually wore seemed absent, but it dropped back into place as he parked next to her sedan in the agency parking lot.
“Thank you. This was an informative afternoon for the PostModern article,” he said politely.
“How so?”
“I shouldn’t say. I’m still putting my impressions together.”
He was definitely back to his normal, closed-in self. Illogically, she was annoyed.
“The afternoon was quite informative for me, as well,” she told him crisply.
“In what way?”
“I’m still putting my impressions together.”
“How amusing, to throw my words back at me.”
“Turnabout is fair play. In a nanosecond you went from pleasantly discussing hobbies to being an aloof interviewer.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want to answer interview questions while we were driving. This wasn’t a date.”
Nicole stared in astonishment. “Thank you so much for the information. Just think, if you hadn’t said anything I would have gone home to my little diary with the heart-shaped lock and written about the journalist who wined and dined me this evening. A journalist who claims he isn’t cynical or biased, but keeps going out of his way to show that he is.”
Jordan had the grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t in the mood to be forgiving. “I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone. I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to romance and if I ever change my mind, I certainly won’t want a guy who’s pursuing a tidy, controlled bachelor life. So, whatever is going on inside your suspicious brain, it’s your problem, not mine.”
Getting out, she slammed the door and got into her own car, fuming. Apparently Jordan was the sort of person who only recognized a line that shouldn’t be crossed when he was looking back at it. Everyone made mistakes and she wasn’t immune to them herself, but he’d leaped over boundaries more than once, including the other night when he’d kissed her. She might have given him a friendly hug, but it hadn’t been an invitation for more. And she was quite certain he knew that.
The challenge, of course, was wondering if her hug really had been as innocent as it could have been. There was no question she had felt attraction from the start. It had only grown in the days since, so she felt as if she was walking on shaky ground when trying to evaluate Jordan’s actions. But what she was feeling was only physical...wasn’t it?