Moonlight Over Seattle

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“Excuse me?” She cast a surprised glance in his direction.

“There wasn’t much for a talent agent to explore.”

“Did we see the same performance?” she asked incredulously.

“What are you talking about?”

“For one, the kid who sang a song in the third act. Her role was too small to see if she has any acting ability, but her singing was excellent.”

Jordan frowned, remembering the short girl with stringy hair who had sung a few lines before getting interrupted by other onstage action.

“That kid isn’t exactly a star in the making.”

“Is that based on your prejudice against girls who aren’t your idea of sex goddesses, or because you think the agency can’t be interested in people who don’t fit the world’s limited concept of beauty?”

Whatever else Nicole might be, she was sharp enough to analyze his response and require him to define his intent.

He shifted in his seat. “If anything, I figured Moonlight Ventures would only be interested in clients they can develop as supermodels or into major acting stars.”

“Actors and models don’t have to fit a particular idea of good looks and I’m not interested in stereotypes.”

He shook his head, bemused by Nicole’s relentless logic. “Okay,” he said, deciding not to pursue the subject further, “the girl has a good voice. Is that all you got out of it?”

“The play itself was authored by one of the seniors.”

“It was?” Jordan had thought the show was well-written, despite the often excruciating performances.

“Yes. According to the principal he’s been a rebellious screw-up and had to write the play to get enough credit to graduate. I thought it was good and we may be interested in writers. Adam is exploring development of a literary division in the agency. I don’t know if that will work, but other agencies have done it and he’s been making editorial contacts. If anyone can pull it off, he can. At the very least we could refer the play’s author to one of our connections.”

“Isn’t it unusual for a talent agency to divide its focus?”

Nicole waved her hand. “Right now, maybe, since I’m still the only one working full-time. But once all of us are on board, it might make sense to diversify. We have varied interests and know there’s a wealth of talent in the Seattle area. Eventually we’ll hire other agents as well. The kid who wrote that play may have the ability to go all the way. Talent often emerges young. Walter Farley wrote his first Black Stallion book in junior high school, and there are a number of other authors who also began early. Adam is bugged by the idea that there could be a great author out there who might never realize their own potential.”

“Why is that Wilding’s special area of interest?”

“His mother is a writer, though she’s never tried to get published.”

Jordan hadn’t thought that much about Nicole’s partners. The focus of the articles was supposed to be on her as a supermodel changing her life. If he could schedule conversations with Nicole’s partners, it would mostly be for getting information that was related to her.

“So the agency might get a writing client for a potential literary division, and perhaps a singer. But do you need to go back again just to listen to amateurs reciting good lines?”

“I like to give them a second chance. It’s hard to perform at your best in front of fellow students. But if it’s too tedious for you, feel free not to attend this evening. After all, you’ve seen what I’m doing there and it isn’t world-shattering.”

“I’m going,” Jordan asserted, stung by her “tedious” remark.

One thing was clear, the assignment was turning out to be very different from what he’d anticipated.

Chapter Four (#u9c86c194-2932-5459-a77e-0431c154d25e)

NICOLE COULDN’T INTERPRET the expression on Jordan’s face and decided not to try.

She pulled up in front of her house. It was after three thirty and she’d be heading back to the school in four hours. The schedule seemed rigorous for the kids, but the principal had explained the afternoon’s performance was mostly intended as a dress rehearsal.

Considering how the agency had been inundated with people wanting to become clients, it might be silly to go out searching. But this was more dynamic—not to mention more fun—than sitting in her office looking at pictures or videos.

“What now?” Jordan asked.

“I’m going to sit on my new deck and breathe fresh air while I make notes about the performance.”

“May I join you?”

“I suppose,” Nicole said reluctantly.

It was ironic. If PostModern had sent a different reporter, she probably wouldn’t be letting him or her into the house. So in a sense, being “herself” might actually be easier with Jordan. Well...easier on some levels, harder on others.

She went through the kitchen on the way out to the deck and took a bottle of mineral water from the beverage chiller.

“Help yourself,” she offered. “Sorry, there isn’t any beer.”

He glanced into the compartment and selected ice tea. “I also see there’s no wine. Worried about the calories?”

“I don’t care that much for alcohol. The last time I had a drink was when we toasted the purchase of Moonlight Ventures.”

Nicole spent a few minutes playing with Toby, tossing a toy while he fetched it and returned. The dog wriggled with pleasure each time she praised him. According to Toby’s records, he’d been found as a hungry puppy near the Bainbridge Island ferry. It broke her heart to think of any animal being abandoned, but at least she could ensure this particular dog had a good life.

Finally he collapsed on the grass, panting and looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Some people thought cocker spaniels or corgis had the corner on adorability, but Nicole’s money was on beagles. When he’d whimpered and looked at her from his kennel at the rescue center she’d practically melted. Until then she’d been considering a German Shepherd adolescent with enormous paws and a goofball personality.

She went back to her chair under the covered section of the deck and started making notes in her electronic notebook, periodically referring to the program from the play. The kids had seemed eager and sincere, though most of them weren’t polished actors and actresses.

“I didn’t know you liked dogs,” Jordan said after a while.

Nicole reached down and patted Toby, who’d come over to sit next to her chair. “I couldn’t get one before because of my travel schedule—it wouldn’t have been right to kennel it constantly.”

“That’s why I’ve never adopted a pet or thought about family. I like being able to drop everything and head to another part of the world.”

“Being free to travel is nice and I suppose a pet or a family would tie you down.”

Though Nicole was glad she no longer had to be on the go constantly, she also missed it. But a business couldn’t be run on an occasional basis.

Jordan’s head cocked. “You have an odd expression.”

“I was thinking about choices. This is probably the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid. It seems strange in a way.”

His gaze sharpened. “Then that’s one of the costs of your decision to change careers?”

Nicole didn’t want to discuss what she thought or felt, but she had agreed to the interviews and intended to follow through.

“Yes,” she said, “if you want to call it a cost. I’m responsible for taking care of the agency until there are more of us here to fulfill our commitments. Being more mobile the way I used to be might be nice, though I rarely had time to simply appreciate the locations where I worked. Still, I got to see a lot, even if it was on the fly.”

Jordan had pulled out a notepad and written a bit before looking up once more. For a minute she was afraid he was going to imply again that she felt sorry for herself, which would tempt her to send his pad into the yard for Toby to use as a chew toy.

“Do you think you’ll be able to resist the freedom of travel?” he asked instead.

“I don’t intend to stay in Seattle three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Once the four of us are here, there will be some leeway. In the meantime, I made a choice about what I wanted to do with my life. It means I can’t do some things, but can do others, such as have a dog.”

Jordan looked at Toby. “He’s a pretty nice choice.”

“Yeah. Originally I wanted a large dog, but this guy charmed me into taking him instead. Maybe I’ll get a cat to keep him company when I’m out.”

“Two animals? I can imagine the look on Helen’s face if she had to clean up after them.”

“Helen?”

“She comes in once a week to clean my condo. She jokes that I’m Felix Unger, the neat freak from The Odd Couple.”

“But didn’t Felix hope to get back together with his wife?”

“So I’m like him in some ways, not in others. Besides, I’m not exactly a neat freak, I just like to have everything in its place.”

Jordan fell silent again and Nicole made a few more notes, trying to ignore his very male presence on her deck. It wasn’t easy. Tension emanated from him, as if just sitting while she worked was taxing his patience beyond its limit. Though he’d claimed otherwise, she sometimes wondered if he’d already written the articles and if interviewing her was just a pretense.

Nicole mentally slapped herself. It was hypocritical to condemn the guy before giving him a chance to prove himself. If the PostModern articles turned out to be pure opinion, the same as his columns, then she’d know the truth.

She glanced at him from beneath her eye lashes. He was good-looking enough to be a model himself, though there was no telling how his looks would translate into photographs.

Saving her work after another half hour, Nicole looked at Jordan. “It’s nice that you didn’t just sit there watching me.”

“No problem.”

He exuded virile energy and she decided it was best that he was a reporter. She had never dated one, considering it far too much of a risk.

She was always frustrated when lingering pangs of longing for love and happily-ever-after threatened her peace of mind. It wasn’t that she wanted something like that with Jordan, but sitting on the deck with him was a reminder of the old dream.

Surely her disquiet was related to the radical changes she’d made in her life. She was no longer doing the work that she had enjoyed and her friends couldn’t join her yet in the enterprise they’d planned together. Naturally she was unsettled.

“Something on your mind?” Jordan asked. “You have another odd expression.”

“Nothing important.”

* * *

“I’D LIKE TO SAY—even though we’re understandably wary toward each other—” Jordan stopped and grinned at Nicole’s wry glance. “I am worried about Chelsea. You’re right that she’s had a tough time and I appreciate your consideration toward her.”

“I’m not being considerate, at least not in a sentimental way. One of our goals at Moonlight Ventures is to help people be at their best. The way I see things, that applies to our employees, too, not just our clients.”

“So Moonlight Ventures is trying to develop talent, not just sell it?” he asked.

“Some people may need help to make their potential visible. Advertisers don’t have time to look beneath the surface. They want someone who’s already professional and able to project their best.”

“Then basically being an agent is teaching salesmanship, like washing a car and doing a tune-up for a used car lot.”

“That sounds cynical...which doesn’t surprise me. What I’ve read of your columns suggests you have a jaded view of human nature.”

His lips twisted. “The critics say I’m cynical, too, though I’ve noticed it hasn’t hurt my readership.”

“So you went from angry teenager to cynical columnist. Was it due to one grand event, or a process of continuing attrition?”

“A combination,” he admitted, not wanting to discuss his parents and their inability to stay faithful to each other. But he also hadn’t found life beyond his family’s home to be much of a counterbalance to his attitudes.

All the same, he didn’t think he was cynical—he was more of a skeptic, or perhaps a realist.

“In other words, you don’t like talking about it,” Nicole guessed. “That’s understandable. Disillusionments are also about our vulnerabilities and most of us keep our most tender spots hidden.”

“True. Do you plan on revealing any of your vulnerable spots?” he asked. He’d interviewed people who were experts at shifting the focus onto the interviewer and Nicole might be one of them.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her lip and he found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Every move she made seemed to have a seductive edge to it, though he didn’t believe she was doing it deliberately. Trying to bemuse or seduce a reporter didn’t seem to be her style.

“No soft spots on display for a while,” she said and he had to think a moment to recall the question he’d asked about revealing her vulnerabilities. “You have to really trust someone to uncover that part of yourself.”

A flash of annoyance struck at the inference that she didn’t trust him, but Jordan reined in his feelings. After all, she had no reason to find him trustworthy and he’d already revealed he had biases. A rational person wouldn’t trust him.

“Is there anything I can do to gain your trust?” he asked.

Reaching her hands high in the air, she stretched and yawned. “Who knows?”

Jordan’s muscles tensed. Her motions were alluring, but he still didn’t think she was being consciously seductive.

One thing was for sure—Nicole hadn’t dropped out of the fashion scene because her looks were fading, which was what a few disgruntled journalists had suggested when they couldn’t get an interview. In fact, she looked better than ever, with naturally gold hair and the same vibrant blue eyes he remembered—no enhancement from colored contact lenses needed. She also exuded sexy vitality, so he didn’t believe illness had led to her hiatus.

Another possibility was a personal issue, such as a love affair or a relationship that had gone bad. He’d tested those waters already and would return to it when the timing was right.

Settling against the high-backed chair, Nicole closed her eyes. “Don’t you love a spring afternoon?” she asked. “It’s still so fresh, the earth waking after winter. I didn’t know it could be like that. Of course, everyone tells me this is a warm spring for Washington, so maybe it isn’t typical, especially the hot spell that’s been predicted.”

“You act as if this is the first time you’ve ever seen springtime.”

Her eyes opened. “It is in a way.”

“Another thing you missed because of being an international model?”

“Stop barking up that tree,” she said coolly. “This has nothing to do with me being a model. It’s about having lived in Southern California my entire life. The weather down there is pleasant, as you know, but let’s face it, the seasons aren’t that definitive. They just sort of meander from one place to another. The seasons really make an impact up here. I’m loving the spring after winter.”

Jordan nodded. He’d moved away from Los Angeles after college, wanting to leave the past behind and had lived in various places around the country. He liked the Northwest.

“Even in Seattle, seasonal changes aren’t as definitive as they are back east,” he said. “Spring also seems to come slower there.”